As the Story Crumbles

[ArtisticVicu]

Be it short or long, a random ramble or a thought out story, there's a little bit of everything here. The genres are just as wide spread as the focus of the piece, be it a sci-fi slice of life, a fantasy horror, or the more expected basic fantasy story or modern mystery. Some are short and simple, others just as short but far more complex. More than anything, the majority of what is contained here is exploration of the written word. There is enjoyment in writing it. I do hope you enjoy reading it in turn.

Please peruse at your leisure. Any comments are welcomed as the Table of Contents below is updated with every new post.




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[ArtisticVicu]

Sanity Virus
Transformers Movie Verse AU
Megatron X Optimus Prime

Please be advised that this story does have:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Major Character Death


Beginning
He leaned heavily on the balcony's railing, heaving a sigh. It had been a long day and the following were to only get longer. His dim blue optics drifted over the growing city with little more than weariness and defeat dancing in them. Try as they might, Cybertron would never be what it once was. Not in any of their lifetimes, nor in those of the next generations. He wasn't sure if he was content with how humble his race had become or sad that it had come to this. He shifted his stance, from forearm to elbow so he could bury his face into his hand. A hand stroked up from the base of his shoulder blade to nape of his neck, a thumb stroking the strained wires there. Optimus Prime pushed off the balcony's railing in favor of leaning into both the hand on his neck and the chest behind him.

"You need to quit doing this to yourself, Beloved," a deep, rumbling voice spoke softly from behind him as an arm wrapped around his chest and a face pressed into his shoulder. Optimus reached up, placing a hand on Megatron's faceplate. "You'll run yourself into an early grave."

Optimus gave a soft huff in amusement, relishing in the unconditional love he could feel surging over the abused sparkbond. They each had died once and had made it back before the other could truly lose their mind. The war had finally ended and all Cybertronians were now focused on repairing what had been thought to be unrepairable. A bite on his neck - hard enough to cause pain but gentle enough not to mark - brought Optimus from his thoughts and back to Megatron. He shifted enough to look into his sparkmate's optics, curious. His spark seized at the look in Megatron's red optics.

Concern and worry both dominated the larger mech's unwavering gaze. Optimus found himself trying to slow his venting. He wasn't sure what had caused the reaction but he knew it hadn't been a good emotion. He gave a weak smile, returning his hand to Megatron's faceplate. "I am sorry, Megatron. It has just been a long day."

Megatron kissed Optimus's temple, the kiss lingering for comfort being sought from both parties. When Megatron pulled away, he offered, "It has been for both of us. Let's go recharge."

Megatron stepped back and to the side. He kept an arm around Optimus's waist as he led the red and blue mech back into their quarters. It was simplistic, small. Megatron remembered a time when he had wanted elegance, the largest place Cybertron had to offer, but, when the war had finally ended and the rebuilding of Cybertron had started, he had found the smaller quarters had been much more pleasurable. The greatest factor had been how much it had put both veteran mechs at ease. Sometimes it was hard to push aside war taught habits and paranoias.

The berth was soft and warm. Optimus climbed in first, his systems already shutting down to rest. Megatron helped the sleepy mech settle before going around and climbing in on the other side. Optimus rolled over and pressed his faceplate over Megatron's spark chamber. Megatron wrapped his arms securely around Optimus, humming a tone that seemed to gently vibrate his entire being. It was something they had both discovered had helped a peaceful recharge after so long in war. Soon Optimus was in a deep recharge and Megatron finally gave in to the need to recharge as well.



"The attacks are getting more frequent," Sideswipe commented, leaning heavily on the table covered in datapads and holocubs. "Do we even know where they're coming from?"

Optimus sighed, rubbing at his optics as Ratchet replied, "No. From what we can tell, it's some kind of virus. There hasn't been enough time to analyze the compound fully to tell what the full effects are."

Sunstreaker huffed, pushing off the wall. "I can tell you the effects, Doc. They turn good bots bad. Make them do things they would never do."

"We don't know that for sure," Ratchet countered but Sunstreaker barked back, "I watched Arcee get her spark ripped out by her own sparkmate! I know for a fact that that would never happen! Their bond was too strong!"

"And yet that only restates what little we already know!" Ratchet shouted back. "We need time to know the true effects of-"

"Enough." Megatron stepped forward, glaring at the two mechs. Both silenced immediately, though Sunstreaker still glared at Ratchet. "Whether or not we know the true effects, we do know how it's being transferred."

Ratchet nodded, meeting Megatron's gaze. "As of right now, it's only through fluid. Fresh fluid. Give it a few hours outside of a system and it dies. There's no telling if it'll go air born."

Megatron nodded. "Then we work to contain the infected. Ironhide, work with Soundwave to set up teams and quadrants to patrol. Starscream, take your Trine and another and patrol the skies till the ground teams and quadrants have been set up. Then follow Soundwave and Ironhide's schedule as they need you."

All mechs nodded their acknowledgement before leaving. Megatron looked over to Optimus and knew the other wasn't reading the data pad in his hand. He dismissed the rest with the flick of his wrist and waited for them to leave. As the door clicked shut, Megatron pulled the datapad out of Optimus's loose grip before engulfing Optimus in his arms. He more felt then heard the sigh that escaped from Optimus's vents as his frame relaxed. Megatron placed a chaste kiss on Optimus's temple, offering, "You could have stayed home today. I can hand this."

Optimus shook his head. "I am losing many friends, both old and new. If I can aid in stopping this virus, then I will."

Megatron stole a kiss before he pulled away. "I'm going to visit the building sites. Stay here and go through some of these. I want you to take it easy today. Nothing more strenuous than reading useless information."

Optimus laughed weakly and Megatron took it. Kissing Optimus one last time, he left the room. Optimus sighed and picked up the datapad Megatron had pulled from his grip. He scrolled back to the top, intent on truly understanding what he had been reading but he had barely read the first line when he was interrupted.

The screech was the only warning he got as the windows shattered. His head whipped around and he engaged his cannon without even thinking. A Cybertronian mass collided with his side and his hip caught the edge of the table, both of them sliding across the tabletop and over the other side. Datapads and holocubes scattered in every direction as the table tipped and collapsed overtop them. Optimus's left shoulder burned but he ignored it in favor of dealing with the attacking Cybertronian mass. Optimus managed to land a right hook to the side of the mech's face, giving him enough of an opening to kick the form off and take aim. The door burst open, drawing the assailant's attention away from Optimus for the millisecond it took to register what he was seeing.

The Cybertronian was Soundwave, but he looked damaged, frozen in the middle of withering in pain. Limbs were twisted in painful directions and broken in others. Energon dripped from the wounds that grew with each movement. The worse part of it all was Soundwave's face.

The mech never had much in the way for expressions but the way his face was distorted...Optimus had to look away before he purged his tanks. Even after all that he had seen, it was a gruesome sight.

"Optimus!"

Optimus cursed himself as Soundwave collided with him, slamming him into the floor again. Optimus was able to get an arm free to keep Soundwave from ripping into his throat with serrated teeth. A shadow covered them both and suddenly, Soundwave was crashing into the opposite wall.

Megatron fired at Soundwave. It was a direct hit to the spark and Soundwave crumbled. Tension seemed to escape the room as Megatron lowered his cannon and turned to Optimus. "Are you-"

Megatron was tackled by Soundwave and the sound was excruciating. Megatron was able to throw Soundwave off as his back hit the floor before the infected mech could scratch or bite him and promptly decapitated Soundwave. The frame crashed to the floor unceremoniously as Megatron straightened up. He retracted his blade and turned to Optimus, offering the mech a hand. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe came rushing in. Sunstreaker went directly to Soundwave and Sideswipe walked over as Megatron pulled Optimus to his feet.

"Ironhide's in pretty bad shape," Sideswipe stated without prompt. Optimus gently gripped his burning shoulder. "He's in medical right now, getting cleaned and patched up by Ratchet. He said Soundwave just snapped and attacked him. Rachet said that Ironhide hadn't gotten infect."

Megatron nodded, his gaze going to Optimus. He placed a hand on the small of Optimus's back, offering when dim blue optics looked up at him, "Let's get you to medic."

Optimus nodded.



"You're clear as well," Ratchet stated, reading the scanner in his hand. "The energon that had splattered you was merely surface exposure. Nothing to worry about."

Optimus sighed, relief flooding his spark and mingling with the relief Megatron was feeling. Megatron slid off the medical berth. "How much longer till you have a way to counteract the virus."

Ratchet shook his head. "Until I figure out what caused it, there's no telling on when I'll come up with a way to counteract it."

"We will need to keep everyone on high alert," Optimus voiced. "We cannot allow this to become wide spread nor can we allow it to pull us apart."

"Agreed." Megatron turned to Ratchet. "How long till Ironhide is ready for a debrief?"

Ratchet shook his head. "Soundwave had done some serious damage. It was a miracle Ironhide was conscious when he was brought in and still clean of the virus."

Megatron nodded. He turned to Optimus. The red and blue mech met his gaze with a tired one. Megatron cupped Optimus's faceplate. "I'll be back when things settle. Get some rest."

Optimus nodded, accepting the kiss before watching Megatron leave. With a sigh, he settled back onto the medical berth, rolling onto his good shoulder. Ratchet walked over and stated, "If you need anything, just call."

Optimus nodded, already halfway into recharge.

He woke with a start, feeling as if he had only drifted into recharge. He sat up, wincing as his healing shoulder and hip protested to the movement but didn't hinder him. He looked around the dim medic bay trying to decipher what woke him. He turned his head to the door and saw that it was partially open and harsh whispers were emanating from the hallway. Sliding off the berth, he rubbed his sore shoulder briefly before dropping his hand to the side.

The closer he got, the more he could make out and he recognized his sparkmate's voice long before the words made sense.

"-ther time," Megatron was growling, sounding as if he was trying very hard to keep his voice down. "I won't repeat myself."

"Well, that attitude will get you nowhere," Ratchet replied. Optimus reached out to pulled the door open as the medic commented, "You have to come back in the-"

The door opened and Optimus stepped back. Ratchet jerked back at the sudden appearance of Optimus standing before him. He frowned. "You should be in a deep recharge."

Optimus gave a half shrug, feeling like a youngling getting reprimanded. "I woke up."

Megatron chuckled and Optimus looked at him, smiling gentle. But the smile faltered. Something was off with Megatron but he wasn't sure what. Megatron held out his hand to Optimus and Optimus took it as Megatron offered, "Let's go home."

"Optimus should-"

"We're going home," Megatron growled.

Optimus frowned, retorting, "Megatron."

Megatron looked at him and he seemed to calm instantly. He gave a tired smile. "Sorry, Beloved. It's just been a hard day."

"Then you should be home."

Megatron shook his head. "Not without you."

Optimus looked to Ratchet, the question in his optics. Ratchet sighed, waving the pair off. "Fine. But Optimus is to rest. Nothing till past mid day."

"Nothing till past mid day," Optimus agreed.

Megatron jerked his hand gentle, urging Optimus to follow. Optimus fell into step beside Megatron. Megatron gave Optimus's hand a gentle squeeze and started on the path home. Optimus was pleasantly surprised when they continued walking. It had been a long time since he had walked home with Megatron. Most of the time, they were too exhausted to think of covering the distance by foot. The distance would tax his hip but it would be gentler than shifting forms. Optimus wondered if that was why they were walking.

They reached their apartment half an hour later. Optimus was exhausted, limping, and already slipping in and out of recharge. Megatron had, somewhere along their walk, wrapped his arm around Optimus's waist to support him. The room lit up in a gentle glow when they entered. The pair was silent as Megatron led the way to the bedroom. He turned the lights on before taking Optimus over to the berth. Vents hissed as Optimus cringed from the pain in his hip. Megatron placed a gentle hand over the ache, catching Optimus's dim gaze. Optimus couldn't focus enough through the partial recharge to read the emotions flickering through Megatron's gaze. He reached out, cupping Megatron's cheek. Megatron leaned into it, covering Optimus's hand with his own.

"No matter what happens, you know that I'll always love you?" Megatron asked, his voice soft.

Optimus frowned, forcing himself out of his haze as best he could. He had little success. The fog of exhaustion was winning. "Of course. You would never do anything that states others."

Megatron dropped his gaze to Optimus's spark and Optimus looked over the crouching mech, wondering where this had come from. He must have voiced his concern because Megatron breathed, "The virus is spreading."

Optimus's hand clenched on Megatron's cheek subconsciously as Optimus tensed. Megatron looked up at him with sorrow filled optics. As a sense of foreboding settled in his spark, Optimus snapped, "We will get through this, Megatron. We have made it out alive from much worse."

Megatron gave a faint smile as he captured a kiss. Optimus felt himself being pulled back into recharge as the kiss continued soft and gentle. Megatron broke the kiss and Optimus wasn't quite sure when the larger mech had laid him down. Megatron kissed over Optimus's spark, muttering, "Sleep well, my Beloved."

Optimus gave the hand he still held a squeeze. It was a weak one but Megatron seemed to understand as he squeezed back gently. As Megatron's hand left his, Optimus fought the recharge urging him to sleep, watching as his sparkmate looked back in the doorway, before completely leaving.

His recharge was restless. He became fully aware with a start, feeling completely worn and sore. He sat up stiffly, careful of his right shoulder and left hip as both complained. He froze.

Something was off.

He looked around, his optics taking in the still dark window, the closed door, and the empty berth beside him. It took him a moment to figure the time and yet he didn't trust that it was just before the sun rose. He shifted so his feet hung over the edge of the berth and waited for the strain to subside.

He focused on the closed door, the sound of something breaking muffled by the solid door and good seal. Optimus stood up, favoring his right leg more than his left as he hobbled over to the door and opened it. Something flew at him and he ducked, automatically engaging his canon. He would have raised it too if he hadn't caught sight of Megatron first.

The red optic mech was furious, trashing the sitting area in a rage. Most things were overturned, sliced into multiple pieces, and smashed underfoot. Optimus had to his cannon to disengage. It was a rage he hadn't seen since the war and it honestly scared the Prime. Taking the courage that most Autobots still remember him harboring, he stepped out into the chaos, ignoring the twinge in his hip and the fear in his spark.

Megatron threw something at the far wall that shattered, peppering both their forms in debris. Optimus reached out, clasping a hand on Megatron's arm as he choked, "Megatron."

The blade was at his throat before either of them could fully process it but the manic in Megatron's gaze had been there long enough for Optimus to see it. Recognition and guilt quickly overtook the manic, burying it as the blade disengaged.

"Optimus," came the strangled apology. The red and blue mech found himself being engulfed by Megatron's arms and he wrapped his own arms around Megatron's slightly larger form, his face buried into Megatron's neck. "I'm so sorry, Beloved. I was-it's-I don't know what came over me."

Optimus tightened his grip. "Have you slept, Megatron?"

"I..."

Optimus sighed, pulling back. "Is there anything you have to do first thing?"

Megatron had already given in before he had even answered the question. It wasn't hard to see where this was going as he gave Optimus a gentle smile. "No. And I believe a decent recharge will help."

Optimus accepted the kiss before pulling away and towards the bedroom. Megatron followed without a word, closing the door behind them both. They settled down to recharge but Optimus found recharging on his hip was much more painful than on his shoulder. Megatron didn't seem to mind that the positions had changed slightly. He still wrapped an arm around Optimus and fell into a deep recharge almost instantly. Optimus hadn't been sure if he could even make it into a deep enough recharge to rest fully. Still, he found himself waking without remembering when he had fallen asleep. The berth beside him was empty but still warm. He smiled gently and got up.

His shoulder and hip were still sore but the strained joints were getting better. He walked without any trouble. He entered the sitting room and had to pause in the doorway as the fear from just a few hours ago gripped him again. His hand latched onto the doorframe and cracked the paint. The room was clean, spotless, and repaired. A spike of fear shot through Optimus as he wondered frantically if the previous night had occurred.

Movement drew his attention elsewhere and he smiled gently to Megatron. The mech was leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed and smirking. Optimus released the doorframe with some difficulty and walked over. The fear was still there, still just as strong, even though he knew it was irrational. Megatron wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't harm him. He knew that in his spark. Megatron seemed to have known the turmoil in his spark and captured a chaste kiss briefly as the smirk fell. "I'm needed back at HQ. You're welcome to tag along but, if Ratchet gets wind you left this place, it'll be your own aft."

Optimus chuckled, accepting the chance to be playful. It aided in ignoring the fear. "I thought you liked my aft to be exclusive."

The grin on Megatron's face shouldn't have scared him, shouldn't have reminded him of the times of war. He shouldn't have even made it to the other side of the room as quickly as he had while tripping over the furniture. None the less, he found him back crashing with the far wall as he tried desperately to stop the hyperventing and to disengage the cannon beamed to Megatron's spark. Fear and concern were clear on Megatron's expression as he moved forward slowly. He stopped at the end of Optimus's charged cannon and slowly forced it to lower. His expression never changed as he reached up with his other hand to cup Optimus's cheek.

Midpoint
"Beloved, what happened?" Megatron asked, his voice breaking on the pet name. That did it. That simple break broke through the fear and Optimus lunged at Megatron, burrowing into the other in fear of the memories and of the fear itself. Megatron held on tight. He soothed his sparkmate as best he could without knowing what had caused the episode and Optimus fought to calm down to explain. He owed Megatron that much.

"I apologize," Optimus wheezed.

Megatron bristled at the soft spoken apology and moved back to look at Optimus fully. "Don't even, Optimus. Just tell me what happened. What triggered this? Neither of us have had such strong episodes before."

Opimus shook his head, elbows on bent knees and gaze to the floor. "I do not know."

Megatron gripped his chin forcefully. Probably more forcefully then the mech had intended but Optimus flinched regardless, his head jerking back to connect sharply with the wall behind it and bright blue optics focused on regretful red ones. Megatron cupped the back of Optimus's head, offering, "I'll try and be more careful, Beloved. I don't want to cause such turmoil." Megatron kissed Optimus's forehead, offering, "I'll be back after the meeting."

Optimus frowned as Megatron stood. He took the offered hand and got up. "Is a compromise possible?"

Megatron smirked, but it was guarded this time, sharper almost. "Depends."

"I go with you but the only strenuous thing I do is read useless information."

Megatron laughed, accepting that as a good compromise. "Alright."

They left a bit after midday, walking hand in hand for most of the way. As they got closer, though, Optimus realized this was the third time Megatron had rubbed his temples. He frowned, asking, "Are you alright, Megatron?"

Megatron looked at him, an optic ridge raised in question. "I'm fine. I'll stop by medic on the way to take care of this. It's nothing. Don't worry."

Optimus didn't believe him but let it slide. Others greeted them, though most sounded hollow. Megatron seemed to have noticed as well because he wrapped an arm around Optimus's shoulders and sped up the pace. They entered the same room as last time. The room had been repaired in their absence and looked exactly the same. There was nothing to reveal what had happened less than a day ago. The same bots were in the room – excluding Ironhide and Soundwave – and the table was covered in datapads and holocubes ones more. Optimus picked up a datapad with a sigh and started skimming, not really registering the words he was reading.

"The attacks are getting more frequent," Sideswipe commented, leaning heavily on the table covered in datapads and holocubs. "Do we even know where they're coming from?"

Optimus rubbed at his optics as Ratchet replied, "No. From what we can tell, it's some kind of virus. There hasn't enough time to analyze the compound fully to tell what the effects are."

Optimus's hand froze as he tensed. Sunstreaker huffed, pushing off the wall. "I can tell you the effects, Doc. They turn good bots bad. Make them do things they would never do."

Optimus's head snapped up and his gaze locked onto Sunstreaker.

"We don't know that for sure," Ratchet countered but Sunstreaker barked back, "I watched Arcee get her spark ripped out by her own sparkmate! I know for a fact that would never happen! Their bond was too strong!"

"And yet that only restates what little we already know!" Ratchet shouted back. "We need time to know the true effects of-"

"Optimus?"

Optimus flinched, blinking as he found himself face to face with his sparkmate. Optimus looked to the others and saw them watching him, mixed expressions among the crowd. Megatron gripped his arms tighter, drawing Optimus's attention back to Megatron and to the fact that his entire form was shaking. He sank to his knees and Megatron went with him, keeping him upright. Optimus rubbed at his head as he tried to force his body to stop shaking, blinking at the shattered datapad under his knee.

"Optimus." Optimus looked up into red optics. He reached up and placed a hand over Megatron's spark, his fingers curling into the metal in an attempt to redirect his thoughts. "What's wrong?"

Optimus slowly calmed down as he spoke softly. "I...Things had been so similar. It felt as if there would be a repeat of what had happened."

Megatron frowned and, for a fleeting moment, Optimus thought he had seen confusion, as if Megatron hadn't known what he was talking about. But it was there and gone so quickly, Optimus just brushed it off to a trick of the light. Megatron tightened his grip gently, briefly, asking, "Can you stand?"

Optimus hesitated before he nodded. Megatron hauled him gently to his feet, turning to the others. "We'll continue this later."

"Megatron," Ratchet started, gaze on Optimus.

"I said later!" Megatron shouted, suddenly furious. It was either great self control or a miracle that his grip on Optimus hadn't tightened. Sunstreaker opened his mouth but Megatron overrode him. "OUT!"

Everyone scattered. Megatron turned to Optimus, working desperately to suppress the sudden rage. He rubbed where he had been holding Optimus, asking, "I didn't harm you, did I?"

Optimus shook his head, doing his best to keep the onslaught of fear back. So many years out of war and the Last Prime was going soft. But, then again, his sparkmate was the notorious Megatron, Ruthless Leader of the Decepticons. No one ever loses that large of a part of themself, after all. Megatron didn't seem to notice the turmoil within his sparkmate and Optimus sighed inwardly. He didn't need to worry Megatron with this. There was enough to do already that he didn't need to add his sudden onslaughts of day terrors. Megatron kissed his forehead, breathing, "Good."

Megatron turned to the table and rubbed at his head, running the hand from his temple to the base of his neck where he worked on soothing whatever pain was ailing him. Optimus frowned. "You were going to go take care of that, Megatron."

Megatron look up, arching an optic ridge. He smiled gently. "I will. But I need to make sure you're ok first."

Primes don't pout. At least, not in public. But around their sparkmates, they seem to pout all the time and this was one of those times. Optimus crossed his arms and pouted at Megatron. "I am fine, Megatron. Just a day terror that has passed."

Megatron chuckled, standing, once more, before his sparkmate. A stolen kiss from a pouting Prime and Megatron replied airily, "I know, Beloved. Just humor me. Just this once."

Optimus's resolve deflated and Megatron stole another kiss. Optimus gently pushed Megatron and the other laughed, shoving back in retaliation. Optimus chuckled, staggering the two steps it took in exaggeration of compensating the weak shove in. Returning to the table, Optimus started collecting the datapads and holocubs.

As he picked one off the floor, Optimus straightened with a frown. He started stacking his armful neatly on the table. "There was no need to snap at them."

Megatron sighed, rubbing at his head as he leaned on the table. "Can we not do this, Optimus?"

"Megatron."

"No!" The table jumped and cracked from the impact of Megatron's fist on its surface. Red optics upturned to glare at the Prime. "I do not have to justify myself to you, Optimus. Nor do I have to listen to your lecture."

With the fear that had yet to leave him since last night, Optimus took a step forward with anger and hurt driving him forward, refusing to back down as he countered, "I had no intentions of lecturing you, Megatron. I was merely stating you did not have to act that way with our friends, regardless."

Megatron gave a barking laugh and Optimus was proud that he hadn't visibly flinched. "Friends? Last time I check, Optimus, they were your friends. Not mine."

"They are your friends, Megatron. They have been since the day we started rebuilding Cybertron."

The table shattered and Optimus leapt back, unable to stop the cannon from engaging, charging, and targeting Megatron. Megatron stood over the shattered table, fist still where it had stopped. Slowly, Megatron pulled out of the stance, almost like he was coming out of a daze and not quite sure what had happened. He looked at his hand briefly before looking up at Optimus. Optimus watched as Megatron took in the stance and the cannon pointed at him. Megatron took a step back, shaking his head slowly. His clenched his hands, ripping his gaze from Optimus as his vents hissed. He reached up and pressed his palm to his temple, offering weakly, "I'm sorry, Beloved. I shouldn't...I just..."

He sighed, his frame relaxing. He looked to Optimus and Optimus was startled out of his stance by how guarded Megatron's gaze was. "I'm going to go blow some steam. I'll see you back home."

Optimus gave a tentative nod and watched as Megatron left without looking back. Optimus looked back at the table and overrode the cannon, disengaging it and smothering the fear with routine. He cleaned up the mess of datapads and datacubes before heading home.

He stopped walking when he received an urgent ping. He frowned. It was an old frequency from back during the war. Activating it, he didn't have a chance to get a sound out before an onslaught of noise was unleashed.

"Any available warriors, come in! We need help! Headquarters is being attacked and we've got two other assaults going on at North Point and Iacon Records! Any available warriors within these areas, please give aid! I repeat! Any available warriors, come in! We need help! Headquarters is being attacked and we've got two other assaults going on at..."

Optimus shifted forms and raced back through the streets. He transformed just outside the doors to Headquarters and found the telltale signs of an assault. Mechs and femmes scattered the grounds and Optimus engaged both a blade and a cannon as his battle mask locked into place. With this many offlined, it was a large scale assault. Which meant –

"Megatron!"

Optimus made his way through halls lit with emergency lights as quickly as he could, barely feeling his sparkmate at the end of their abused link. He rounded a corner and staggered to a stop over a small squad barely holding up against an assailant. Optimus opened fire over their heads, his optics quickly confirming that the assailant and the small squad was not who he was looking for. Optimus was both surprised and pleased to see a familiar face among the strangers.

"Bumblebee."

"Nice timing, Optimus. I was worried we were going to get scrapped," the little yellow ex-scout chimed happily. "This is what I get for teaming with rookies."

The only femme in the group smacked Bumblebee upside the head, snapping, "Don't blame us for your mistake, Commander."

Bumbebee laughed, not taking his attention off their target.

"These things are resilient!" one of the remaining anonymous mechs commented. He sat back, hiding behind his comrades to recuperate. Optimus could hear his vents working overtime to keep his system cooled. The purple and red frame was shaking. Optimus met the blue optic gaze that looked up at him as the mech asked, "How do we kill these things, Optimus Prime, Sir?"

Optimus looked back at their target. "Decapitation."

"Seriously?" the mech asked, the fear of the moment growing a bit much for him.

"Great," one of the other mechs grumbled. Optimus didn't bother looking at which as he ducked the wall panel that had been thrown at them. The panel embedded itself into the wall behind them. The grumble, though, seemed to settle the purple and red mech a bit. At least his frame had stopped shaking.

"Any ideas?" Bumblebee asked.

Optimus frowned. "Just one."

"Good enough for me," the ex-scout announced, happily agreeing. He stood up, offering cover fire as Optimus raced forward.

The fight was over in a matter of seconds. The once whole Cybertronian collapsed in a heap of metal at Optimus's feet, the head rolling down the hall somewhere. Optimus looked at the squad as it approached cautiously, ordering, "Keep your weapons out."

The blue and green mech that had been ready to disengage his weapon jumped, meeting Optimus's gaze. He nodded and hurried to take up the rear. Bumblebee nudged the mass with his food. "None I recognize."

"I know him." Optimus looked at the remaining mech of black and red, recognizing the voice as the one that had grumbled earlier. The mech looked too seasoned to be a rookie. "Lived next door. Good mech. Vet, if I remember correctly. Autobot."

"Frag," Bumblebee cussed, looking away. "It's not like we needed another one lost."

"There are no more factions, Bumblebee. Any we lose now is one of ours, no matter past alliances."

"Yes, Sir," Bumblebee accepted with a not.

Optimus nodded in recognition, asking, "Have you seen Megatron?"

"Last I heard, he was up aiding Ratchet in keeping the medic clear. He may have moved on."

Optimus nodded. "Sweep this floor. Aid anyone you come across."

"We'll be here if you need us," Bumblebee agreed, saluting. He turned to his team as Optimus started down the hall again. "Alright, troops. I want an open commlink at all times. If there's any trouble or if you find..."

Silence was only cut by what noise Optimus made. It was eerie trotting through hallways he knew should be bustling at this time of day. Twice he came across deserted battlefields in those tight hallways. The second one had been the worst yet.

Parts and spilt energon splattered the hallway for the entire length and Optimus couldn't distinguish features enough to know if anyone he knew was dead now. The carnage continued along the path he took and, while there were other ways of getting to medic located on the third floor, Optimus was going for the shortest route. He could hear shouts and weapon fire as he approached the stairs. He hugged the wall, raising his cannon as he tried to decipher what was happening. He flinched when the corner beside his face shattered from a shot. Swallowing his fear, Optimus stepped out.

He was racing towards fire without really processing anything, blade scraping the floor every so often. His body moved on instinct alone, falling back on training he had long since thought rust. He was upon the assailant and had it decapitated before those fighting to stay alive even registered what had happened. Someone was shouting a cease fire as Optimus ducked one shot and sidestepped another. Optimus looked to the rag tag team of Cybertronians and was pleased to see another familiar face. "Barricade."

"Prime," the once Decepticon responded, nodding. "Lucky you showed up. We were being picked off faster than we could have anticipated."

Optimus returned the nod. "Bumblebee is with a squad near the entrance. Retrace my steps and see if you can offer some aid. They had an open commlink. See if you can contact them."

Barricade nodded as those with him started past Optimus. Barricade studied the Prime before offering, "Megatron was alive last I saw him. Up on the third floor. They were holding their own when I left."

Optimus nodded and moved to go up the stairs. A hand stopped him. He looked back at Barricade but the mech didn't release his grip. "I'm sending one of mine with you."

Optimus shook his head. "If there is a chance of getting everyone out, I will take it. Clearing this floor is our only option without Seekers or more information."

"Megatron ordered me to send one of mine with you."

Optimus gave a gentle smile, though the battle mask hid it. "I will deal with Megatron. Take care of your squad, Commander."

Barricade released Optimus's arm with a sharp nod. The mech saluted before following his team. Optimus watched them till they all disappeared around the last corner before he started to climb the stairs. The emergency lights flicker briefly before going completely dark, leaving Optimus in a pitch black stairwell. He took a moment to adjust to the new development before moving on, knowing full well he was at a disadvantage in this dark. He pressed against the wall beside the exit and charged his cannon. With a steady hand, he opened the door.

Silence.

Optimus kept his weapon to his chest as he looked around the edge of the door. Nothing. Stepping out, he raised his weapon, taking careful steps. He sent a comm ping from where he stood before hurrying down the wall. It was unclear if the infected bots were still sane enough to understand a ping like that but anything could draw their attention as well as nothing.

He sent another ping as he rounded a corner, listening for anything. The farther he moved, though, the more he was certain no one was there. The medic bay was 3 minutes away and that was without any complications. He rounded the next corner only to backpedal, raising his weapon. He was instantly grateful he wasn't trigger happy like a few bots he knew because he had just stumbled upon three sleeping infected. He shuddered, thanking Primus for the steady hand. He ignored the gore in the hall around the three sleeping infected and continued down the hallway he had been traveling. There was always another way.

The next turn had been impassible. The roof had caved in from something and Optimus wasn't about to take the chance to blast his way through. Sadly, that had been his last short route option. The hallway he was now in continued on for a good 3 minutes on its own before anything opened up to allow him to go right. He just hoped it would be clear.

When he came to the turn, he found it dark and empty. Neither of these boded well with him. Clenching his free hand, he started down the hall, foot fall as quiet as possible. He had a rough idea on the floor plan but it had been some time since he had been in this part of the building. The back of the building still had large areas of construction. This building was to become the central hub of activity, creating a place for Cybertronians to mingle and learn. But, for now, it was merely Headquarters.

The floor panel he stepped on gave way and Optimus staggered away. He cringed at the sound of the floor panel clattering off of the support struts and other panels on its way down. He looked to his left and saw that the wall was still there, still solid, but the floor and the lowest part of the wall had been taken out as something had come through at an angle, heading for the ground floor. Optimus placed his foot down carefully, testing the floor panel as he moved forward. It was slow, tedious, but he made it through the damaged area without another incident. Hurrying along, Optimus rounded the next corner and started to hear noises. Noises he wasn't too sure he was grateful to hear.

Shouts and weapon fire echoes off the walls as screeches and screams mingled with the chaos. Optimus rounded the corner to find himself a good distance behind a squad. The medic bay was in between Optimus and the squad, holding the middle line. Optimus ran forward only to stop at the medic bay.

The place was organized chaos. Most of the medical berths were occupied and any trained medic was running between patients, trying their best to take care of what they could. Ratchet was near the door, thankfully, and had seen Optimus before the Prime could fine him.

"He's with the squad keeping the infected at bay!" Ratchet barked, stopping a sudden gush of energon. Optimus was gone before he could become a hindrance.

The first mechs he ran into of the squad were Starscream and one of his trine. Starscream had a nasty gash on his wing and a burn from a gun on his opposite side. His trinemate was working on stilling the flow of energon enough to get Starscream the short distance to the medic bay without Starscream falling into stasis lock. Starscream's trinemate nodded in welcome as Starscream onlined one dim optic before offlining it quickly. He rasped out, "He's been waiting for you, Prime."

Optimus nodded, clasping the trinemate on the back before moving on. He hugged the corner to get a look at who else was there. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were working together to take down one of the four infected trying to get past the blockade Optimus was standing beside. Several other mechs and femmes were among the infected fighting but not many were getting close enough to do much. It was clear it was a suicidal mission going in like that, getting close like that. The infected were all leaking energon and the hall was covered in it. Optimus added cover fire with the barricade, finding himself standing side by side with his sparkmate.

"Beloved." A strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling his back flush with Megatron's chest. Megatron brushed a kiss on the top of Optimus's helm, questioning over the noise, "You're unharmed?"

Optimus clung to Megatron's hand as he continued to fire at the infected. It was hard, especially with friendlies among them. "Yes. I ran into Bumblebee and Barricade. They and their squads appeared to be holding their own for now."

Optimus felt Megatron's nod against the back of his helm. One of the infected went down and didn't come up. "I've lost 12 so far and more are going to fall before these three are taken out."

"How many infected were in the initial attack?" Optimus ducked, stepping out of Megatron's hold as a piece of Cybertronian went flying through where they had been standing. They returned to the other's side but didn't return to the embrace.

"20, from what I was told."

Optimus tensed. "20?"

"20."

Optimus got a lucky shot in, catching an infected in the face. It opened up the opportunity for those in the brawl to get the upper hand. Another infected fell and didn't get back up.

"We've been at this for nearly an hour. If we don't finish this now, we'll start losing more mechs."

Optimus nodded.

A half an hour later, the last of the infected fell. They had lost 8 more mechs in the brawl but, thankfully, things had quieted. As Optimus knelt to aid Sideswipe with his injured twin, Megatron ordered, "Back to med bay. Two mechs at point at either end. Interchange every 15 minutes. No point should be left unattended."

Sunstreaker gave a strangled scream as he was moved. Sideswipe seemed lost, trying to aid his brother as best he could as they moved him to medic. It was worse in there than the first time Optimus had hurried in there less than an hour ago. Ratchet came over almost immediately, directing, "Bed 13. Get the energon loss to stop."

Optimus nodded, directing Sideswipe in the right direction. Sunstreaker collapsed onto the medical berth with nothing more than a groan. Sideswipe started fretting over his brother, inhibiting others to give Sunstreaker the medical attention he needed. Optimus gripped Sideswipe's shoulder firmly and directed him back out into the hall where he was pleased to see those that had minor to no injuries were waiting. Most were silent but a few were talking in hushed voices. Optimus saw Megatron talking with Starscream's trinemate so guided Sideswipe in the opposite direction to the outer edge of the group.

"Sideswipe, your brother will be fine," Optimus tried, watching the smaller mech's reaction.

Sideswipe shook his head, snapping – though softly – "He got infected. I know he got infected. How could he not get infected? There was tainted energon everywhere! Ratchet said–"

"Ratchet had stated that they have had little time to work on an antivirus. Your brother will remain your brother long enough for them to complete it."

Sideswipe looked up at Optimus, his blue optics bright with fear and apprehension. Despite the emotional turmoil raging inside, Sideswipe took those words as truth and nodded. He gave a weak smile and an even weaker, "Thanks, Optimus."

Optimus reached up and gripped Sideswipe's shoulder in a way to offer comfort. "You're welcome."

Completion
Optimus left Sideswipe to his thoughts and walked towards his sparkmate. At first, he thought that Megatron was just having a heated discussion with the Seeker before him but as he got closer, it became more and more apparent Megatron was pissed and Optimus had the feeling the Seeker happened to be the outlet. The fist collided with the wall next to the Seeker's head, just inside of the wing. The Seeker flinched. Optimus broke out into a run, closing the distance in three strides. He quickly wrapped a hand around the drawn back wrist, whispering harshly, "Megatron. Enough."

Megatron yanked his wrist from Optimus's hold and stormed down the hall. Optimus hurried after, not about to let his sparkmate do something stupid. They passed the sentries as Megatron worked his way deeper into the building. By the time Megatron had lost whatever rage had overtaken him, they had been speed walking for a good quarter of an hour, if not longer. They had come to a T and Megatron walked up to the wall. He placed both his hands at shoulder level before leaning into the structure, head hanging between his arms. Optimus came up beside him, placing a hand on Megatron's back. He kissed Megatron's neck, asking quietly, "What happened?"

Megatron shook his head, leaning all his weight onto his right hand so that he could rub at his head with his left. "I don't know. I was suddenly engulfed in rage, I didn't really have any control over my actions."

Megatron's frame was shaking beneath Optimus's touch. Optimus wasn't sure if it was because of all the stress or if Megatron was still fighting the rage. Optimus frowned, noticing Megatron's hand had yet to fall from the mech's temple. "It has gotten worse."

Megatron growled, stepping away from Optimus. Optimus met the glare with nothing more than concern. Megatron took a step to the side in an unconscious move that settled him in a battle stance. "Of course it's gotten worse. I haven't had time to take care of it and this situation isn't helping."

Optimus deliberately slowed his venting, fighting against the wave of fear. He took a calculated step forward, raising his hand slowly as he spoke, "I was merely pointing it out, Megatron. I am aware of how hard things have become. That does not mean you can deny yourself medical aid. Let us go back. Ratchet will take the few seconds to take care of you."

Megatron growled, turned, and punched his fist through the wall. Optimus leapt back. His sword engaged out of shear reflex as he fell into a battle stance. Silence fell with Megatron standing there with his hand in the wall and Optimus waiting with baited breath. Slowly, Megatron pulled his fist from the wall. Optimus forced himself out of the stance and retracted the sword. Megatron rubbed at his head again. Optimus stepped forward. He placed a hand on Megatron's arm just to have the larger mech flinch away.

Optimus's hand hung in the air where Megatron's arm had been. Red optics fell onto the outstretched hand before falling to its owner. Megatron entangled their fingers as he rushed, "I'm sorry, Beloved. I'm just on edge."

"You have no need to apologize, Megatron." Optimus stole a kiss before offering, "Let us return to the others and get you some medical treatment."

Megatron nodded and he followed Optimus's lead down the hall. It was quite, dark, and yet neither worked on fixing either fact. They progressed through the halls slower than they had traversed them. There was no hurry. The mechs and femmes at the medic bay were able to hold their own without them. After all, the ultimate goal was to keep the medic bay safe.

Megatron rubbed at his head for the second time in their walk and Optimus watched him, seeing the pain flash across the larger mech's expression. He gave Megatron's hand a gentle squeeze in hopes to convey some comfort. The squeeze was returned but Optimus wasn't sure if there was any emotion behind it.

A sound from behind them stilled their feet. Megatron still had a hand to his head but the pain had long since cleared from the bright optics. Fear coursed through Optimus with every pulse of his spark as he engaged his cannon. They turned as one to look back to where they had come from. Another sound, this one sounding like a screech, echoed off the walls. Optimus listened to Megatron's own cannon engage and charge. There was no comfort in the sound. Instead, it just seemed to intensify the fear. Shoving the useless emotion back as far as it would go, Optimus moved to the wall, pressing himself up against it as he knelt and took aim. Megatron moved in behind him but stayed standing.

The seconds turned into minutes and they waited. Optimus relished the touch of Megatron's hand gripping his shoulder even while it just seemed to add to the fear. Optimus's cannon never wavered and shot straight when the infected they had heard came around the corner.

Optimus wanted to scream as he continued shooting. He knew that bright yellow paintjob. He knew that frame. He knew those bright blue optics were no longer the right blue. Megatron's grip on his shoulder quickly grew painful as Bumblebee came racing towards them, a screech emanating from the distorted form. Fresh energon splattered the walls and floor with every motion and Optimus could see that some of the energon on Bumblebee's frame wasn't even infected. Three strides away and Optimus engaged his sword. Two strides away and he felt Megatron move to the side with his own sword engaged. One stride away and Optimus was standing. Bumblebee collided with Optimus, throwing them both down the hall to impact the floor painfully. Optimus used the momentum to kick Bumblebee off but his foot slipped on the energon covered armor. Bumblebee was so much smaller than him, that he was having a hard time keeping a hold of the yellow scout. Bumblebee scratched at the plating over Optimus's spark. Optimus fought to keep his hold on the scout just so that Bumblebee couldn't get the chance to infect him. A swipe at his face and Optimus could feel four sharp fingers leaving gashes that went through his battle mask and scrapped his cheek. Optimus threw his head back to avoid the next swipe.

Suddenly Bumblebee was off of him and Optimus watched as Megatron threw him against the wall before decapitating him. Optimus rolled onto his side, sitting up. Sad optics took in Bumblebee's limp form as Megatron retracted his blade. Optimus stood as Megatron approached.

"Did he get you?" Megatron asked as Optimus's battle mask slid back. Megatron hissed.

Optimus reached up and touched the four scratches, tracing the longest as it went from his cheek to across his lips. "They are not life threatening, Megatron. The surface is barely scraped."

Megatron ran his own fingers over the marks. "None the less, you're getting checked. You ran into Bumblebee when you entered the building."

Optimus nodded, offering what he had. "He appeared normal to me. As bright as he had always been."

Megatron nodded as he dropped his hand. "Let's hurry back."

They had barely gone two paces when another rounded the corner ahead of them. Megatron attacked first, Optimus right behind him. It was a femme Optimus didn't recognize and she was faster than either of them had been ready for. Optimus was slammed into the wall as he blocked the attack. She landed a knee into his side and he crumbled into the blow, receiving a fist to his temple. Optimus's head snapped back, connecting with the wall. Megatron was there again and her head went flying down the hall. Megatron yanked Optimus from the wall, barking, "Why are you always the target?"

Optimus rubbed his head. "I doubt I could answer that."

Megatron placed a hand over Optimus's, kissing Optimus's temple. "That's the second time you've been the target and I have no idea why. I don't want anything happening to you."

Optimus met Megatron's gaze, offering, "Just as I want nothing happening to you. We must return to the others."

Megatron nodded, ready to reply, when a screech came from either end of the hall. A string of curses came from Megatron as he spun Optimus and pressed back to back. With cannons on one hand and swords on the other, the pair readied.

The infected charging at Optimus was the young mech in Bumblebee's squad, the one of black and red with too much experience to be on Bumblebee's team. Sure enough, the infected mech moved with an experience and unpredictability usually familiar with one of the older infected he had the ill fortune of fighting. He shoved the infected back, taking two shots. The first was dodged, the second was a direct hit to the shoulder. The arm dangled useless from the shoulder but the infected wasn't hindered. The second attack was a low kick and Optimus blocked, countering with a blast to the chest and a swipe at the head. The shot missed the spark chamber by millimeters and the infected dodged the swipe, the blade barely skimming the top of its helm. The infected bounded back a few steps before charging Optimus again. This time a blade was drawn and shoved at Optimus. Optimus felt the blade bury itself into his left side but, this time, he didn't miss his target and the head bounced against the floor.

As the infected frame crashed into the floor, Optimus yanked the blade from his side and moved to aid Megatron. Megatron was farther down the hall, shoving the infected back but never getting a clean slice at the mech's throat. Optimus ran as hard as he could but he felt as if he was moving through mud. He just couldn't get there fast enough, just couldn't get to his sparkmate. As Megatron passed the threshold into where two hallways crossed, a third infected launched itself into Megatron's side. Megatron went down hard but he was able to kill the infected. The first infected was on Megatron before he could recover and Optimus screamed Megatron's name as the infected's blade buried itself into Megatron's abdomen.

Optimus found himself coming to a halt, knees bend and blade scrapping gently against the floor. A battle cry rang through the hall and Optimus watched in horror as his sparkmate retaliated, ripping the infected mech to shreds long after the frame had gone limp. Fear shoved him forward, forced him to race towards the source of his fear. He grabbed Megatron's arm, yanking him away as his other hand went to Megatron's wound. "Megatron! Enough! It is dead!"

Frantic optics locked with Optimus's and Megatron slowly stopped struggling. His vents were on high and his weapons remained active. His entire frame was shaking and pain rippled across Megatron's faceplace. "Optimus."

"I am right here," Optimus assured.

Megatron's frame convulsed and his hands went to his head. A pained scream escaped Megatron as the mech doubled over. Optimus moved to go down with him but Megatron's hand was over Optimus's spark, stopping him. Megatron's bright red optics locked with Optimus's bright blue ones and Optimus could clearly see the fear. "Run."

Optimus placed a hand over Megatron's, shaking his head slowly, but Megatron shoved again, urging, "Beloved, run!"

Optimus felt the shove in his spark across the bond and Optimus stumbled back. Optimus watched in terror as his sparkmate started convulsing, screaming. Optimus could do nothing more than plaster himself to the wall behind him as hot tears streamed down his faceplate. The pain, the anguish, and the fear Megatron was experiencing was flooding the bond, blending with Optimus's own terror. As abruptly as it had started, it stopped, though the period of time it had traversed was so long that Optimus wasn't sure how long they had been missing. Slowly, he extended his sword, watching his sparkmate, frozen in mid convulsion.

Optimus jumped when Megatron's head snapped up. Try as he might, Optimus couldn't bring himself to look away. Megatron's face was twisted into one of pain, fear, and sorrow, places cracking from the severity of the expression. The only thing that just didn't fit with the face, though, was the grin spread across Megatron's face. Sharp teeth glistened in a grin that wasn't happy, or natural. Optimus met the red gaze once more before he ran. A screech alerted him that Megatron was following and Optimus felt fear shoving him harder down the hallway. Optimus skidded as he took the sharp turn, ducking as Megatron flew over his head. He felt Megatron's fingers scrape his back between his shoulders.

Optimus ran for as long as he could, longer than he thought possible. Fear had gripped his spark and refused to let go and he could not, for the life of him, understand where it had come from nor understand why it was affecting him so. He knew fear, knew how to overcome it and fight. His footfall faltered. He didn't want to fight his sparkmate, didn't want to face the fact that he was losing him. And he knew, without a doubt, this was the reason behind his inability to fight this fear.

Optimus cursed under his breath, skidding to a stop where a large chunk of the building had been taken out. By what, Optimus didn't want to know. He turned, ready to back track, but found that he was cornered. Megatron was just on this side of the next hall juncture, his blade out and scrapping the floor as he stepped slowly towards Optimus. Optimus readied his own blade and Megatron attacked.

Optimus met the attack, not wanting to be anywhere near the abrupt end of the hallway. Their blades met with a ringing force and Optimus found himself thrown back. He staggered, mere feet away from the ledge that he had been trying to avoid. He winced, his arm hurting. Megatron was either much stronger or he had forgotten just how strong Megatron had been.

His fear spiked as he blocked another attack. He was shoved to the edge of the gaping hole. Megatron's attack wasn't just a single blow and one slipped past Optimus's defense, catching his left thigh and leaving behind a rather deep gash that damaged the mobility of the limb. Optimus cringed.

Megatron took the opening and kicked Optimus. Optimus tried to grab Megatron as he lost his balance but missed. As he fell, Optimus watched as Megatron stepped to the edge to watch. Something hard and sharp slammed into his right shoulder and spun him in his tumble.

His back slammed into the floor two stories beneath the ledge. The floor was uneven, damaged, and it made the impact all that more painful. Systems were offlining and warnings were blaring. His right shoulder was on fire and his right arm was completely disengaged. He reached over, feeling a limb attached but something was protruding from his shoulder. He gripped what he realized to be a metal rod and yanked it out. Vents hissed but he was able to still the scream before it could erupt from his chest.

His entire system nearly went into stasis lock. He forced himself to stay online, to stay active and, thankfully, pressure over his spark chamber gained his attention. He onlined optics he hadn't realized had flickered off only to look up at Megatron standing over him, a heavy foot on his chest and a cannon charged and ready to fire at his head. Optimus moved his dim blue optics from the cannon in his face to the red optics above him. The cannon fired and Optimus flinched from the sound. He onlined his optics and looked over to see the floor eaten away an inch from his head. He focused back up on Megatron's gaze.

He breathed, "Megatron."

Tears were streaming down Megatron's face, the broken grin still there. The twisted expression had yet to change, to shift to something else. The pressure on his chest grew as Megatron added more weight behind the foot. Optimus grunted, vents hissing.

Time ticked by and all Optimus could do was hold Megatron's gaze. Slowly, the weight shifted and the cannon moved. At first, relief flooded him at the thought that Megatron was regaining control, that Megatron was fighting. But as the cannon rose higher, so did Optimus's fear to where it was aiming.

"Megatron. Megatron, please." The barrel of the cannon settled against Megatron's temple, charging. "No. Megatron. No!"

His spark seemed to scream. The blast resounded through the hallways and it felt like a giant hole was ripped into Optimus's chest. Megatron's dead weight fell onto his legs and the fear was there, driving him to dig his fingers into the floor in a desperate act to get away. A ringing had settled into his mind, clouding it. Scratches lined the floor where his hands hadn't gained real purchase. He caught something solid and pulled. He didn't care what it was. All that mattered was that it held. He pulled himself out from under the mass that had been his sparkmate.

His left foot finally came free. He ran down the hall, stumbling over things his mind wasn't registering. His foot caught on something and, in a brief flick of logic where the ringing in his head died down, he wondered why he hadn't been kissing the floor, why suddenly he had use of his right arm. The fear and the ringing was eating at everything, pushing him forward, keeping logic at bay. If he could just get away, maybe – just maybe – the nightmare would end.

He heard his shoulder collide with the wall, but it was a flicker of registration that vanished the instant it was realized. It wasn't till he felt his foot catch again that he realized he was climbing stairs. As soon as that registered, his footfall was sure and he stopped tripping in his haste. Again, the fleeting moment of clarity vanished as quickly as it had come.

He slammed into a door and the door shattered. He tucked and rolled, coming up only to find himself facing a group of infected. The image before him flicker, as if the over image of the infected wasn't holding to a mirror image of still healthy Cybertronians. He spun around, ready to run in the opposite direction only to find another group of infected blocking his way. He looked to his left and found the hall empty.

He ran.

His shoulder caught something. He wasn't sure what and doubted it really mattered. All that mattered was the sudden, brief moment of clarity as he felt his balance disappear, only to have his body twist to accommodate and keep him running. He should have fallen, should have landed hard. The logic slipped from his grasp as the fear came back in, swallowing the thoughts and leaving his mind with one thought.

Keep running.

He rounded another corner only to find himself slamming into an infected. His body reacted, twisting with a blade out. The infected fell and the ringing in his head grew. A second was on him but his body moved as his mind reeled in pain as the ringing grew progressively louder. Optimus stumbled back a few steps, blade scrapping the floor. Something in his mind was screaming at him, screaming for him to see, but the ringing – no, screaming his mind was engulfed in wasn't allowing him to focus.

The screaming, whether from himself or some outside force, blinded him to his actions, blinded him from the sight before him. If he were to say he knew what he was doing, he would have been lying. A moment, he knew what he was doing, and the next, the memory of it was lost.

A sharp pain cleared most of the fog, bringing into startling focus the fight before him for a brief, spark stopping moment.

He knew now the screams were his.

He knew the infected he was fighting, weren't infected

He had fought alongside those he was now fighting as they protecting the medic bay. Already, a few he had come to know well lay beneath his feet. He watched as his blade sliced through a young feme, severing a limb before taking out a battle aged mech with a stab through the spark. As he turned, blocking another attack, he tried desperately to still his hand, to still his motion. It made no difference. His body parried the attack and took the mech down with a single stroke.

The fog of his own screaming, his own pain filtered over his mind again and he lost the clarity that had been there. He didn't care. He just screamed in pain and in the anguish that had been storming his system since his sparkmate took his own life.

Continuation
He blinked, touching his raw throat. He couldn't remember but it felt like he had been screaming. Dismissing the odd sensation, he focused on what was around him. He found that he couldn't remember anything and yet he didn't feel a sense of panic like he thought he should. The image before his optics was currently swimming so he turned his focus from the lack of memory to trying to clearly see what was before him.

The image sharpened into things that he recognized and could name but that didn't mean it made sense. Definitions were not forthcoming with the names. With a groan, he rolled onto his side.

The startled yelp was embarrassing but he was sure anyone would have yelped all the same when coming face to face with a severed head. Actually, now that he looked more closely, he felt he should remember something about said severed head but it was like fishing through air for invisible fish. He stood up. His legs shook but, other than that, he seemed undamaged. Strange. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should be damaged. Dismissing the feeling, he looked around. The place he was in was rundown but he did seem to recognize it. Headquarters came to mind but he had no idea what that meant in relation to himself.

He started down the way he was facing. It was rather fascinating, whatever this place was. There was damage everywhere, like there had been a fight or something. Forms littered the hallway he walked and a sticky substance covered the floor. Energon flittered in to name it but it held no meaning to him. Stepping over a rather large mound of bots, he felt a wave of sadness. He knew what death was. That seemed to be one of the few things he actually knew the meaning of and it was clear that all the bots in the hallway were dead. He wondered what had happened here to cause so many to die such gruesome deaths. He shuddered and quickly changed his mind. Whatever it had been had left him untouched and he was very keen on keeping it that way.

He wandered on, stepping over more dead as he went. The numbers seemed to have steadied out to a constant by the time he reached the first open door. He looked in and frowned. There were dead all over the place, a small handful draped over anything that would support their weight. A few looked like they were lying on the remains of the things that were supporting others. He stepped around one of the dead lying in the doorway, a gaping hole through the chest and an arm missing. Again, a wave of sadness washed through him.

Moving around, he avoided touching any of the dead as best he could. It wasn't so much out of disgust as it was out of some sense of respect. He didn't mind. He could maneuver just fine without needing to disturb any of them.

He came across something that drew his attention instantly. It was an odd metal strip with identical claws coming out of either end. He picked it up, curious. Why would a strangely shaped piece of metal draw his attention? The answer didn't come and he tucked the odd metal strip onto his person, deciding to ponder it later.

Finding nothing more in the room, he maneuvered his way out and farther down the hall. The more distance he covered, the less dead he found till there were no more to be seen. He smiled gently. Maybe that meant he would find some that were actually alive.

He wandered around. At one point, he realized he was going in circles. Though what had prompted this realization, he doubted he would ever figure out. He started marking the wall and, eventually, he found some stairs and went down. A large 2 was on the first door he came to. He frowned. That 2 was important but he didn't know why. He moved to push the door open but stopped before his hand touched the metal. No, he needed to go down. Nodding his head in determination, he continued down the stairs. He wasn't sure why he needed to go down but he went with it. There wasn't a door but an arch way was open to him and he smiled gently. This felt better. He continued his marking as he went, enjoying the walk. He came across some scattered dead, had to even jump over one dead that took up the whole hallway. It was promising that there were so few this way.

A gentle, cool breeze drifted towards him. The air smelt pleasant, sweet even, and he happily followed the breeze. It wasn't like there was anything else to follow. The wall on his right dropped back, formed by windows that had been long since blown in. He walked over to the metal frames, touching the framework tentatively. He wondered what it would have looked like in its prime.

He froze. Prime. Why did that ring through his mind as if he was supposed to remember another meaning? What was so important about the word prime? He tried to think of what was so important but it never came to him. Dejected, he stepped through one of the frames and out into the open. He looked around, seeing more dead. He walked across the way to a pool of water that had a damaged statue in the middle of it. He touched the surface of the water, watching it ripple from the disturbance.

Nothing. He couldn't remember anything about the dead, about what had happened to him, or about either the odd strip of metal on his person or the word prime. He leaned on the edge of the stone pool and looked in. His reflection was distorted a bit by the ripples but he could see clearly enough to know he didn't recognize his own face. Optimus prime filtered through his head but it held no meaning. He wondered if that went with his face but it didn't seem like it was that specifically. He wondered if it was his name and there was a sudden surge of glee. That was right, that rang true. His name was Optimus Prime. The glee didn't stay for too long, though. Prime still had more to it but he couldn't remember. Sighing, he straightened, looking around. It was quiet, besides the soft wind. He turned to his right and started walking, content with the path he had chosen.

He followed the road for just over an hour but all he saw was more dead and dark buildings. It was rather depressing now. He kicked a stone in his path and focused on it till he accidentally kicked it too far out of reach. He looked around.

He stopped walking, his face lighting up.

There was a glow coming from one of the windows in the building beside him. He hurried to the door, found it unlocked, and went in.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing off the walls. The hallway he found himself in was dark but, so far, no one was there, dead or alive. He took that as a partial good sign. He called out again, "Hello."

He walked down the hall, taking the stairs when none of the doors showed signs of light. The window had been on the second floor so he hoped the stairs would bring him close to the light. Sure enough, down a side hallway, he found a door with light streaming from the crack underneath it. He hurried forward and tried the door. It was open.

The room was pleasant, well furnished, and homey. Some of the lights were on, casting the room in a nice, warm yellow light that reflected nicely off the light brown paint of the walls.

"Anyone here?" he asked the empty room. There wasn't a reply. Not ready to give up, he tried the other rooms branching off the main one. There was no one in the kitchen and dining room, nor the bathroom or a bedroom. Going to the last door, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

He sighed happily. It was another bedroom and someone was sitting on the berth with their back to him. He smiled, offering, "I'm so glad there's someone else here."

He waited for a reaction, waited for some sign the bot had heard him, but none came. With a light frown, he moved tentatively forward. "Can you tell me what happened here? Why is everyone dead?"

There was no reply, no sign of life and, for the first time in his awareness, he felt fear coursing through his system. He took slow, measured steps towards the mech sitting on the birth. Even at the little sounds that he created there was no reaction, no stirring of life. Determined to figure this out, to get answers, he stepped around to the mech's front.

He turned away and retched. The mech's head – which he had thought had merely been bowed as if thinking or asleep – was nearly gone. It looked like someone had blasted the head away, leaving nothing more than a battered body and the remaining base of the jaw and scull. He shuddered.

He frowned, thinking back on all he had seen. He had seen so much worse when he had been in that first building. He could remember each and every one of those quite well and yet none of those images made him shake in fear and sick with sadness. That was it. The fear and sadness meant something. He looked back at the mech. He had known this mech and had known him well. The injury the mech had sustained was connected to him, he just didn't know how. Getting up, he walked over, forcing himself to take in all the damage in an attempt to remember who this was.

The grief was nearly overwhelming as he looked over the mech's form. He reached out with a shaking hand and placed it over where the spark should be. The metal was cold beneath his hand and there was no pulsing of life beneath it. He gripped the metal, resting his forehead next to his clenched fist when his legs could no longer hold him.

"Megatron," Optimus choked. And it felt right even though the grief seemed to only increase. A strangled sob escaped him as he sank fully to the floor, still maintaining connection with the lifeless form. His spark ached for knowledge of why this mech had meant so much to him and quivered at knowing how this had happened.

There was a shift beneath him and he froze mid sob. Fear swelled within him as he scrambled back and away, narrowly missing the grasping hand. He collided with the wall behind him as he watched in horror as the lifeless form stumbled slowly to its feet. He scrambled to his feet, ducking under the sweeping arms and leaping out the door.

He didn't take the time to close doors behind him. There was no way that was going to help enough to waist the time. With as much noise as the thing was making behind him, he was sure that a closed door would be the world's smallest obstacle. He stumbled as he reached the street before back pedaling a few steps. The bodies that had littered the streets were rising back to their feet. His body shifted forms automatically but his ill informed mind was startled at the sudden transformation. He found that having wheels on the ground was a rather comforting sensation and he peeled out of there in the opposite direction of Headquarters. He knew that if he started in that direction that he was going to run into the hoard from Headquarters eventually. Hopefully this new direction would be better.

He didn't get very far. Something collided with his side and he was sent rolling. Automatically, he returned to the biped form. He ended up sprawled out at the end of the tumble but at least he was able to handle the attack better. It was someone he didn't recognize, which wasn't much of a surprise. But the headless form of Megatron was one he did recognize and did not like the sight of. He had nearly freed himself of the unknown mech when more appeared. He was restrained in a matter of moments, too overwhelmed with too little knowledge. His fear and panic grew as Megatron came to stand before him.

He jerked against his captors as Megatron reached out. There was no hesitation, no sign of actual life as Megatron dug his fingers into Optimus's chest. Optimus screamed as his spark was ripped out of his chest.

Pain caused his body to shudder and optics he hadn't realized had turned off flickered weakly. The image still registered in his pain-riddled mind. There, standing before him, was a headless Megatron holding a dripping, pulsing spark in his claw like grip. He gave one final, feeble attempt at moving only to find himself flat on his face on the ground. He didn't get back up.



"Keep him pinned!"

The shout had been out of sheer reflex. As the mech on the berth thrashed, four others tried to keep him from harming himself more. The episode was much longer than the last and all were panting heavily by the time the ordeal was over. Megatron looked up, locking optics with Ratchet as the episode seem to come to an abrupt end. The old mech looked his age as he looked back. Ratchet turned to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, quickly ushering them to another task.

Megatron, now left alone at his sparkmate's berthside, leaned heavily against the berth. He gently clenched Optimus's hand, breathing in a broken whisper, "What has you so scared, Beloved?"

His grip on Optimus's hand tightened as the fear over the bond spiked. Megatron gave a frustrated roar, slamming his fist into the wall with all the force he could muster. He knew he had scared most of the occupants in the room but he couldn't bring himself to care. He felt useless and that was the worst thing right now. They had already lost Arcee and her bond to this unknown virus and were losing Soundwave, Ironhide, Bumblebee, Starscream, and countless others to it as time ticked on. Megatron couldn't lose Optimus, not like this.

He brought the hand he held to his lips and kissed the appendage, optics never leaving Optimus's face. He ran a hand over Optimus's forehead, trying to send some comfort over their battered bond. He wanted to fix this, wanted to see Optimus look up at him with weary optics and a happy smile. He wanted his sparkmate whole again.

Optimus's lips started moving and Megatron barely heard the words leaving Optimus over the noise in the room. "Megatron. Megatron, please. Don't." Megatron's spark clenched and his breath hitched. What could the virus possibly have him do to have Optimus begging in such a way? "No. Megatron. No!"

Pain shot through Megatron as Optimus screamed the most spark wrenching, fear inducing scream any of the mechs and femmes in the med bay had ever heard. He vaguely felt his knees slam into the floor as his side hit the med berth, his mind dazed. His hand clenched over his spark chamber as he gasped, losing the only thing that had always been there for the second time in his lifespan.

"No," was a strangled whisper past his lips as several pairs of hands pulled him up.

His mind was shutting down out of shock and someone was yelling at him to focus. Their voice was nothing but noise to him. Optimus was thrashing even harder now, energon leaking from new wounds. Ratchet was barking orders for them to keep him pinned long enough to be sedated but no one could get a good enough hold to pin the Prime down fully. None of this registered, none of this computed. Megatron felt as if the world had stopped turning and darkness was returning to swallow him into nothingness.

Suddenly, Barricade was in his face, looking worse for wear but determined. Megatron focused on him briefly, noting that Barricade was talking, before his attention slipped. Optimus had arched off the berth, optics wide but unseeing, mouth wide with his screams. The screaming – that dreadful screaming – didn't stop as Optimus fell back onto the berth, still desperately trying to get away from them all. Barricade shifted, once more, into his line of sight and Megatron finally felt something in the clawing numbness. Annoyance.

"What," he snapped, though it came out breathy and without any heart. He attempted to glare at the mech. Barricade didn't even flinch and that just pissed Megatron off more. Megatron valiantly ignored the voice in the back of his head that commented about how feeble both attempts to gain such a reaction had failed.

"What happened?"

The anger was gone as quickly as it had risen above the numbness and he pressed his hand harder against his spark chamber as his gaze slid back to Optimus. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to share or show his open wound. But a small part of him knew that if he didn't, things were going to get worse. "The connection, our sparkbond, it's gone."

The numbness came back with revenge but Barricade's hand was covering his over his spark in a sudden burst of white hot fire and seemed to keep the numbness back enough for him to register Barricade's words next words. "Don't go deactivating on us before we can save him, Sir. We'll lose him just as we save him if you do."

Megatron locked optics with the mech and saw the understanding and pain in the other's optics. His mind flittered over to Bumblebee. Barricade had grown attached to the little scout after the war but he wasn't sure if they were bonded or not. Megatron sighed, pulling himself from the thoughts and focusing on Optimus as he nodded. Barricade's hand disappeared and the spot he had touched stayed white hot, keeping some of the numbness back. His fist clenched as he saw a mech get thrown by Optimus's fear and pain filled thrashing.

"Make it out of this, Beloved. You have to come back to me," Megatron pleaded too softly to be heard over all the noise. "Please."

Optimus jerked to a stop. For a brief spark beat, it seemed the entire room held its breath. When nothing more seemed to be forthcoming, bots scattered to aid others. In that held breath, Megatron had hoped that his plea had been heard and answered but it was snuffed out as quickly as it had risen. He got up from the berth he was sitting on and stepped to Optimus's side. He ran a hand over Optimus's forehead, watching as his fingers trailed down the Prime's cheek, down his neck, and over his chest to settle over the spark chamber. He leaned over, pressing his forehead over the spark he cherished more than his own. How he wanted to be connected to that spark again.

He wasn't sure how long he was like that. The chaos around him was nothing more than white noise. He buried his fingers into the folds of metal over the spark and gently held on. Optimus twitched under him every so often and Megatron would raise his head to look at his sparkmate each time. When nothing more happened. Megatron returned his forehead Optimus's chest.

Optimus twitched much more violently then the previous times and Megatron pressed down to keep Optimus on the berth. Megatron gritted his teeth, prepared to keep Optimus pinned but the episode didn't start. Megatron stood up. Whether it had been Megatron's pressure or just bad timing, the episode Megatron had thought he had been prepared for lashed out in a fury that was much weaker than the last and Megatron felt a surge of terror at the notion. Bots were there helping pin Optimus down but, as the episode wore on, Optimus thrashed less and less till it dwindled down to the slight twitch of a limb or appendage and then nothing.

This time, there was no hope. They had seen it too many times and the bots around Megatron worked frantically as Optimus's spark faded completely. Megatron's spark seized and he tried to wake his Beloved, tried to get him to look at him once more. He fought the hands that pulled him away others got in his way. He screamed Optimus's name like so many bonded had screamed for their partner and with that scream went all of Megatron's fight and all his will.



The sun was high in the sky, the crisp day pleasant. Mechs and femmes wandered the square, sparklings and younglings playing around the magnificent fountain, some even playing in the cool water. An old mech of grey and black metal smiled gently at the sight of the youngsters playing. He was slightly hunched by age but stood as tall as he could manage. He wandered among the other Cybertronians, returning greetings that were sent his way. He came to a stop at the edge of the fountain and, with some difficulty, sat on the edge. He traced a name in the stone rim of the fountain, memories returning gently with the simple engraving.

"Aren't you supposed to be napping, old mech?" Said old mech looked up to find himself face to face with a grinning little sprite femme in a bright yellow and black paint job that brought back memories. "My dad's not going to be happy with you."

"Honeybee," the old mech offered pleasantly. "I see you have your Grandfather's spirit as well as his paint job."

Honeybee's grin seemed to get larger, though the old mech wasn't sure how that was even possible. "What can I say? He's my idol."

The old mech chuckled, patting the stone wall lacking the name he had been tracing. Honeybee happily plopped down, kicking her legs back and forth in a show of barely contained energy. "Dad says I look more like Grandpa every day."

"Do you believe him?"

Honeybee's grin turned into a sad smile. "I do out of the hopes its true."

The old mech smiled gently. "It is."

Honeybee looked up at him with large optics. It was a brief moment before she grinned again. "I'm glad."

The old mech chuckled, patting the top of her helm. She accepted the affection happily. The old mech moved his hand to her back and gave a gentle shove. Honeybee got to her feet at the prompting, moving a few feet ahead of the old mech before turning to face him. He smiled at her. "Go play while you still can. Once you're an adult, there's no going back."

Honeybee smirked. "That's not what Sunswipe says."

The old mech pointed a menacing finger at her, glaring in good humor. "Do not listen to anything Sunswipe has to say. He is the grandchild of a pair of twins I do not even want to be reminded of."

Honeybee grinned again, bounding off, "Whatever you say, old mech!"

The old mech sighed, before chuckling to himself. A form settled next to the name the old mech had been tracing and the old mech reached out, gently taking hold of a hand he had fought and loved over his too long life. "You're late."

"I got caught up with Blockade."

The old mech arched an opticridge, watching some younglings play tag. "Honeybee's father?"

"Yes." A pleasant silence settled over them briefly. The form beside the old mech shifted closer, leaning against him. "I am pleased we've changed our ways."

The old mech smirked. "Wishing you had a parental bond like the new generations?"

"No," the form stated. The thoughtful frown was audible. "More content with how well the new generations have blossomed with having one."

The old mech shifted enough to look down at the slightly younger mech currently nestled into his side, red and blue paint faded with age. The old mech smiled gently, kissing the other's forehead. "I'm glad we've lived so long to see it."

The other smiled gently, looking down at the stone. He made a face. "If they keep putting my name on memorials, people are going to start thinking I am a figment of their imagination."

Megatron laughed as the image of a smirking Optimus Prime and a perfect world cut to a world of ruin and death for the briefest of spark beats. He pressed his forehead against Optimus's. "We will be with time."

He never noticed the gaping hole in Optimus's chest.

[ArtisticVicu]

Random Event 1
An Assortment of Writings
These were all from the first event I did. I no longer have access to what the event was originally labeled and am simply pulling from my tumblr archive. Every item title is the given prompt. Some are song, some are word or quote. A number had word limits whether it was a minimum or an exact.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

As the world dissolved around the group as the portal came down around them to take the ground away from beneath their feet, he closed his eyes. The inverting left him reeling and, for the briefest of moments, panic rushed through him. Not from his rapid decent possibly ending in a shattering smack against the ground several hundred feet now above his head, but from the oncoming battle he was dropping into. He snapped his eyes open and his companion that could fly came to intercept him as he remembered that he was not alone in this; the 16 others around him were there to support him and just as ready for this fight as he was.
She let out a breath, watching as is solidified in the cold air before dissipating. The snow had long since stopped falling, gray from the ash of the battle and now muddy and red where the worst of the fighting at been. The air was stale, stiff. There was no breeze to bring life back to the land. She shifted her weight, looking back at the castle behind her.

The massive stone structure loomed over the battlefield, looking just as tired and worn as she did. Several of the towers had collapsed and a good number of the walls had been taken out. Just as there was no sign of a breeze, there was no sign of life.

She was alone.

In a sudden fit of frustration and disgust, she yanked the diadem off her head and tossed it to the ground as if it burned. What was the point? There was no one left. They had lost and so many had lost their lives because of her and her companions’ stupidity.

She turned back to the castle, heart heavy but expression determined. She made her way back into the castle walls as she started sending her magic back into the walls and grounds. The castle took the gift and started to repair itself as the lands came up and swallowed the dead, creating a burial ground that would be forgotten over time.

As she stood in the center of the courtyard, eyes closed, she gave up her life in favor of masking what had truly occurred. She prayed that her sacrifice and those that had died before her would not have been in vain and that the truth would be erased from history.

A tear streaked down her cheek as she crumbled to the ground.
This isn’t something we can see, something we can truly track. We perceive it, we use it, but that doesn’t mean that it actually exists. How can it exist when we can’t validate its existence? There are too many people that perceive it differently. When one leaves the planet’s surface, it behaves differently between those on the planet and those off world. When those that have left come back, it has changed. Those on the planet may not even exist anymore it has changed so drastically.

Being able to manipulate time for travel may not ever be within our grasp.
Credit: “Ozymandias” by Percy B. Shelley

She stared at the letter in hand in disbelief. Well, more the first line written on the parchment than the letter itself. She passed the letter on to the other two as she turned her gaze to the messenger in disbelief. The one beside her took the letter. “Is this for real? Are they serious?”

The messenger nodded. “Yes, your Highness. I brought it from his hand here personally.”

Laughter bubbled out of her as she looked at the other two, her eyes still wide with mirth. “They can’t be serious.” She fought her laughter though the grin settled into place. “Ancient ones, they cannot be serious.”

“Seems legit,” the one beside her commented, passing the letter to the man across from her. “And very serious.”

She shook her head, laughter still playing in her chest. “This is just ridiculous.” The one beside her smirked in agreement. She looked to the man holding the letter, asking, “Are they threatening one of us or the kingdom, then?”

He shook his head. “Hard to tell. It could be one of us or the kingdom itself.”

“It would be very foolish to challenge the kingdom,” they commented.

She snorted. “That or arrogance.” She frowned, the humor in the situation dissipating. “Is there any immediate threat to the kingdom?”

He shook his head as he passed the letter back to the one between them. They took the letter, looking it over again. “Not that I can tell,” he supplied. He looked to the messenger. “Do you know if your supposed King of Kings is coming to take the kingdom or challenge us?”

The messenger shook their head. “I do not know, Sire. If I may extrapolate…” The one in the middle gestured to go ahead. “Your Highnesses, my King has – as of late – challenged rulers. If it is not successful, he destroys the lands. I do not think you will be the exception to that rule. He has become arrogant,” they nodded towards her, “as your Highness had speculated earlier.”

She looked to the one across from her, all three of them frowning. He didn’t miss her look but he didn’t comment on it as he spoke to the messenger again. “You have quite the tongue for a messenger. You are educated?”

“Yes, Sire.” The messenger shifted their weight, a sign of unease. “I…am of a higher class originally.”

She stood up, her frown deepening. “Were you of noble blood before he took your kingdom?”

The messenger let their head drop, hands clasped before them. “I am sorry, your Highness. It is forbidden to talk about the days before his rule.”

“That would be a yes,” the one between them ground out. She turned to them, placing a hand on their arm while looking to the man across from her. “Eros, we have to defeat him.”

“I know, Elpis,” he soothed. He looked to the one between them, her eyes following. “Eir?”

“Might as well show him why we see this as a joke.”
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The sound of marching feet was deafening. Armor plating clattered against itself as the invading army made its way towards the heart of the city, the heart of the kingdom. If any were still living within the ruins of the city, they hid at the sound of the passing army. Fires were still burning, even in the heart of the city, a walled off area just as destroyed at the rest of the city. The enemy had been relentless and made sure not a single part was missed and those that were seeking refuge behind battered walls did not have time.

“Taika.” She turned, her footfall stilling. The teenage boy joined her, weapon in hand. “Are you sure about this? Can we really do this?”

Taika started again. “I don’t know. But we don’t have other choices.” She glanced at him as he fell into step beside her. “You don’t have to do this with me, Ove.”

Ove gave her a smile. “Yes, I do.” Rushed footfall drew them to a stop, their gazes going back the way they had come. Another teenager was approaching, their red hair bobbing around them as they came to a stop beside the pair. “We both do,” Ove continued. “This is our kingdom as well. We’re not about to let you do this alone.”

The red haired teen grinned. “Not in any lifetime,” they agreed.

Taika offered them a tight smile. “We will most likely die.”

The red haired teen shrugged. “We’re gonna die anyways. Might as well try.”

“Please Taika.” She looked at Ove. “Let us help.”

She sighed. “Fine. But stay close.”

Taika took the lead, weaving her way between knights and civilians, between the tired and the injured. This was their last stand, their last fight, and a lot of hope was resting on one teenager’s shoulders.

The archway leading into the heart of the city loomed over them as they passed underneath it with the knights that were making a last stand with them. The knights spread out to either side as Taika continued straight ahead, stopping several hundred feet before the archway. Ove settled behind her right shoulder, the red haired teen behind her left. Before them, emerging from the smoke and flames, was the invading army.

Taika settled the book in her left hand and allowed it to fall open. She barely glanced at the page as the army came to a sudden halt. The silence that followed was deafening.

A man on a horse wearing golden armor stopped a short distance before the army, facing Taika. “Surrender now or be wiped out!” the man shouted, his voice cold and lifeless. “Your kingdom has fallen!”

“As long as we stand, our kingdom survives!” Taika shouted back, her right hand tightening around her tool.

The man arched an eyebrow and gestured. A shot lobbed itself through the red haired teen’s shoulder and the teen grunted, curling around the wound.

“Bai!” Ove exclaimed, taking a step towards them.

Bai threw up a hand, shaking their head. “I’m fine.” They straightened though their back was hunched and stepped closer to Taika. “Taika.” The army before them surged forward with a battle cry. “Now.”

Taika took a step forward as the book in her hand started to glow. Words fell from her lips that were not of the common tongue, not of any tongue that existed in that world still.

A rumble rolled through the earth as the center of the city began to glow behind the final stand.
The dust billowed about them as the wall came down, opening a secret passage. She lowered her hand, the rest of her team coughing behind her. Her headlamp illuminated the passage now exposed, revealing a path that hadn’t been touched since the temple had been abandoned.

“Rachel, wait.” She stilled, her foot in the entryway. The man that had called out hurried to her side, a hand latching onto her arm. “Let’s send the drone in first.”

She shook her head. “We know this part of the temple is stable. There’s no need, Harry.” She gently slipped from his grasp and stepped fully into the passageway. “Besides, a drone won’t trip any of the traps anyways.”

She pulled at her collar and a little scaly head popped out. She smiled down at the little dragon, asking, “Fos, can you light the way?”

The little dragon chirped and pulled itself out of her jacket. Fluttering ahead on soft wings, the little dragon began to give off a soft glow that illuminated quite a bit of the hallway without blinding her and her team. She followed after, as did Harry. Her dad and father made it into the passage before the way in was sealed abruptly, cutting them off from the rest of their team. Rachel glanced back but kept moving. She had what she needed. They’d find a way out later.

Harry hurried to follow as she trekked after the little dragon bobbing ahead. “Rachel, what now? Our only exit is now blocked.”

She grinned at him. “No it’s not.”

There was a chirp and Rachel turned her gaze ahead once more. The little dragon had stopped at what appeared to be the end of the passageway and Rachel hurried to come up to the dragon’s side. She reached out, stroking a careful finger under its jaw. “What’s wrong, Fos?”

The critter flew onward and Harry gasped. Rachel grinned.

Before them was a massive room, much larger than any they had seen previously in the temple. The little dragon flew up to the top of the dome and shone brightly, the curve of the roof reflecting the light incredibly well to not only illuminate the glyphs and written language clearly, but illuminated the room itself to the point that Rachel turned her headlamp off.

“Unbelievable,” her dad breathed. Rachel walked straight across, her gaze skyward. Joy and pride filled her expression. “The sword of Damocles hangs above,” she quoted, pulling out and opening an old, leather journal. The same glyph on the page and the notes scribbled on the page were the same forgotten language that was all throughout the temple. She grinned at the others. “We’re almost there.”
“Is it true, that up on that hill you can still feel the ocean breeze?”

He looked up from the book he was reading, confused until his mind processed the question. He smiled gently, putting the antique aside with the same amount of care a mother would her child. “No,” he offered with a pleasant smile, standing. “We are too far inland to get those kinds of winds anymore.” The youth that had asked the question slumped, looking almost defeated. His pleasant smile fell away for a concerned frown. “Why do you ask?”

The youth hesitated and he waited patiently for them to speak. They always did, once they found the right words for it.

“I just figured that I had experienced it, is all.”

Aw, so that’s what was troubling the youth. His smile returning, he sat down by the youth, clothing billowing around him till it settled against the floor and his frame. “I do not feel as you do, child,” he started. Brown eyes looked up at him, wary but curious. “I never will. But I have been around long enough to get a glimpse into the human mind and how it works, how statements such as what you have stated are accurate and not.”

He placed a gloved hand on the youth’s head without looking at them. The youth dipped under the contact but did not pull away. “Long ago, when the lands began shifting and changing towards what they are now, the ocean had appeared to recede. Planetary crust is not meant to move as rapidly as it had, thus why we have the land formations we do. But, at the beginning, while the planet’s plates moving as they were was still very new and not well understood, there was a fear of losing everything. To sooth that fear, many stated that they could still feel the ocean breeze on top of that hill. It was merely nostalgic hoping, a lack of accuracy.” He looked down at the youth, a weak smile on his face. “But it helped.

"The thing is, in all technicality, every breeze you feel is an ocean breeze, as well as a mountain breeze, a forest breeze, and a desert breeze. The air on the planet is all in the same even with the heating and cooling of the atmosphere and the texture of the planet’s surface which cause the winds we feel.” He got to his feet, his joints creaking in a way that warned him to take care of himself soon otherwise he was not going to be able to move for much longer. “So, if you really want to be technical about it….” he gave the youth a smile, “you did indeed experience an ocean breeze.”

The beaming look from the youth was worth it all.
It was said that all myths and legends start out as truths. Not all keep their connection to where they start. Bloody Mary is no different.

There are so many different renditions, so many different experiences, that many don’t think that it is more than a child’s game played to scare each other.

They would be wrong.

The truth is, Mary had been a young girl, not the youngest but also not the oldest out of her seven siblings. But she did live in a family that believed in fantasy and it is said that Mary was sacrificed to bring in the blessing of the fae. Or, more specifically, a fairy. No one knows if it worked or not. Rumor has it that the reason she’s called Bloody Mary is due to the fairy gifting Mary with a brief moment of life at the cost of her mind and Mary killed her entire family before taking herself out. They say if the ritual is properly done, you can still hear the girl’s ungodly laughter ringing through the wind to this day.
They relished the feeling of the reset, enjoying the knowledge that no one save for two souls knew what they were doing. But a part of them was getting tired.

Bored.

There was nothing for them to do. No matter how many times they went through the actions, no matter how many times they did something “different” with the limited choices presented to them, there were only three results and none of them – none of them – set them free.

They watched as their weapon slid through the next target, not understanding. They had done this so many times and so few ever truly fought them. Even fighting one of the two that had knowledge of the resets had become predictable.

Their hand stilled. Had they been at this that long? Long enough that they knew each and every move of that final battle, of every battle?

They brought their weapon down with a sneer, finishing off the target. Pathetic. Wiping themselves off, they started towards the next target. Fine then. If nothing was going to change, they were going to make it change.

They went through the motions, ignoring the words spoken to them. They found their hands and clothing covered in the remains of their targets like times before but it did nothing. There was no disgust, no remorse. Not even when they stood before the one that remembered, the one that was the Judge.

As per the norm, the Judge started talking but they had heard it so many times they could quote him. So, instead, they attacked.

There was a jerking sensation, accompanied by the feeling of being torn apart. They gasped for breath, finding that they were on their back staring at the ceiling in the hall, golden light still pouring in. They got up with a grunt, flinching from the pain that remained. Across the hall, the Judge was standing, eyesockets black holes.

“what did you do, kid?” he asked, his voice gravelly. “what was that?”

They smirked. Aw, so they changed it. They attempted to attack again before the Judge could speak again.

It happened again.

They didn’t hesitate, just got up and threw their body at the Judge still standing there, hands in the pockets of his jacket and eyesockets blank, black holes.

Again and again the event occurred. They screamed in frustration, gaining a reaction from the Judge. He took half a step back.

They turned, glaring at him. He didn’t react. They attacked. The event happened again. They slammed their weapon into the floor, cracking the stone. They were not going to be controlled by this new limit. They were not going to let this occur. Turning with eyes blazing red, they readied their weapon and attacked the Judge.
He jerked back but there was no where to go. The sword in his leg had him pinned to the floor but the reaction happened all the same. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get away when his body screamed at him to run. He watched the other straighten, their gaze hard. “Tell me,” they panted, glaring at him. “Tell me!”

He bared his teeth. “I have told you, time and time aga-”

“Why did you kill my sister?”

Aw, that question. He relaxed a bit, trying not to agitate the wound in his leg. If he was as intelligent as he boasted, his artery had been nicked and it was only a matter of time before he bled out. He had probably 4 minutes, as long as the blade didn’t move. If it was removed, he was gone in a matter of seconds. “I didn’t kill your sister-”

“You attacked my home!” they screamed at him, grabbing him by the front of his drenched shirt and shaking him. He winced, the wound in his leg getting worse. He was out of time.

“A casualty of war,” he ground out, glaring at his assailant. “If I could have helped it, I would not have touched your home.” The surprise and disbelief was a nice change of pace. He fought to keep himself centered. He was already losing too much blood too quickly. “Your home, your town was a very prosperous location, fertile land, grand artisans. I was unable to meet that battle head on before it reached the town borders.”

“You…..tried to stop it?”

He chuckled, closing his eyes. He found it hard to open them again. “I tried to keep this damn war from even starting.”

“I don’t…”

He smiled softly, placing his hand over the one still fisted in his shirt. “Remember that there are always two sides of the same story. I am not who I’ve been made out to be.”

He missed the shock that crossed the other’s face as he passed out and the sudden concern that came after it.
She grabbed his arm and yanked back, preventing him from being ran over by a car. She raised her fist at the driver that had honked at them and shouted, “We have the right of way, asshole!”

“Rose,” he chuckled, fixing his glasses as he started walking again. She fell into step beside him, her hand falling from his arm. “Calm down. They didn’t hit me.”

She gave him a flat look. “I don’t care. We had the right of way in the crosswalk. It that impatient little fu-”

“Rose,” he tried again, his voice tighter. She looked to him, defensive. His expression belayed the edge in his voice, though. He gave her a soft smile. “Drop it.”

She sighed, looking away. “Fine.”

He grinned at her, settling their schoolbags on his shoulder. “Thanks, Rose.”

She relaxed, smiling in return. They walked in silence for some time, just enjoying each other’s company and the scenery. She glanced towards him, her thoughts curious. “Hey, about last night…”

His face darken, suddenly defensive. “Don’t worry about it. It won’t happen again.”

She frowned and grabbed his shoulder. “What? Why?”

He looked at her, almost horrified. “What do you mean why? I forced myself upon you in an inebriated state. I was in no place to have done that with you and you should not have been put into that situation.”

“You weren’t drunk.”

His expression turned flat. “Yes I was.”

“No, you weren’t,” she countered sharply. “And I asked. You agreed.”

He tried to deny it. “But I cannot hold my liquor like you can. And it was just one night. That doesn’t mean-”

She grabbed him by his tie and pulled him to her, kissing him. He bristled out of shock before he buried his free hand in her hair, kissing her back. When they separate, she huffed out a laugh, teasing, “Dork.”

He smiled at her. “I’m your dork, though.”

“Always,” she agreed readily, beaming. Her expression calmed a bit. “Now, will you let me ask you to be my boyfriend or are you going to bounce around that too?”

He laughed. “No. I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Good.” She linked their arms and started walking again. He fell into step beside his childhood friend, now girlfriend, with a soft smile. “Because I really don’t want a different dork.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

They didn’t see the truck.

He jerked awake with a gasp, scrambling into a sitting position as he tried to breathe, his body shaking and tears streaming down his face. He pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes, trying to rid himself of the memory. It had been years.

He moved to the edge of the bed and he heaved himself into his wheelchair. He drowned a glass of water at the bathroom sink as soft footfall came up behind him. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he met their gaze in the mirror. Even after all this time, he could not let Rose go.
The smoke and dust billowed out around them and they were all coughing because of it as a roar filled the air.

“Whelp,” she commented, grinning around her coughs. “That wasn’t suppose to happen.”

“How the hell is that a happy statement,” he snapped, trying to clear his lungs quickly. “You were supposed to banish the damn thing, not turn it into a dragon!”

She shrugged, still grinning. “I like dragons.”

A hand clasped her shoulder and she looked up. “Thank you for trying, Belinda. Let us take it from here.”

The white haired figure stepped passed, their long hair swaying in its ponytail. Belinda watched them and another walk towards the dragon, her gaze going to the blond beside her. “Sisu?”

He gave her a hard look even as it turned fond. “Still not pleased about the damn thing being a dragon now.”

She grinned at him. “I know. Should we help the leaders?”

There was a burst of magic somewhere in the smoke they couldn’t see. Sisu shook his head. “No. We’re better off not interfering.”

A body flew at them and Sisu grabbed Belinda, dragging her to the side. It flew past them and hit something beyond their sight. “We need to clear this smoke and dust,” Sisu grumbled, standing.

“I can do that!” Belinda exclaimed, grabbing for her magic tomb. Sisu’s hand snatched at her wrist, holding it tight. He glared at her. “You have already done enough.”

She grinned at him. “Then you do it,” she challenged.

He gave her a flat look but complied. Belinda watched as his gaze became unfocused as he turned his focus towards his task. She waited with bated breath, looking for it. The first sign was minute, small, but she saw it. She grinned as the magic suddenly became visible around Sisu before expanding rabidly, engulfing the area. Suddenly, the wind kicked up and the field was cleared.

Belinda looked around, frowning. “Sisu, where are we?”

He sagged against her, grumbling, “Great. Now it’s my turn to say that wasn’t suppose to happen.”

Belinda beamed at him. “See? I’m not the only one that messes up.”

“Shut up, Bella,” he chastised, though his exhaustion bled into his words as he tried to stand without her aid. “Come on. We have a long way to walk.”

She pulled one of his arms around her shoulders and gave a cheeky grin. “Want me to turn something into a dragon?”

He glared at her. “No.”
“There’s no such thing as destiny.”

Her hand stilled mid spell, her brain belatedly registering the comment. A laugh burst out of her and she slapped her hand over her mouth as she dispersed the magic she had been gathering, trying desperately to swallow the laughter that was coming out without her permission. The grey gaze of her blonde companion was sharp, defensive. “What are you laughing at?” he demanded. “There isn’t!”

She leaned on the table, trying desperately to not fall onto the floor from laughing so hard. It wasn’t working very well and she ended up kneeling beside the table anyways. By the time the laughter gave way to giggles, she was crying and her sides hurt. She rubbed at her cheeks, grinning at the boy beside her. He hardened his glare. “Sorry, sorry,” she urged, attempting to get back up. “But that’s a ridiculous statement.”

“No it’s not,” he chided, though he uncrossed his arms and helped her back up. “There’s no such thing as destiny.”

Her smile grew endearing. “Then why does Fate exist?”

“He’s an anomaly.”

She smacked her hand over her mouth again as another bout of laughter welled up inside her. She could feel Fate grumbling about being called an anomaly but there was amusement in his disgruntled tone. She grinned on his behalf and he mentally smacked her. She wasn’t even fazed. “He’s Fate.”

Her blonde companion turned and enacted the spell they had been practicing flawlessly. “He’s a part of a sentient entity that’s playing God.”

“Fate is keeping us all on our destinies.”

Her companion’s hand stilled in the air and a distant and almost hopeless look crossing his face. She felt the humor of the situation fall away as quickly as it had appeared and she turned away, looking down at the matchsticks they were turning into needles. She picked a match up and lit it. It crackled to life before settling into a simple flame. She rotated the match this way and that as she allowed magic to keep the flame at the tip of the match without going out. She knew that her companion’s gaze was on the flame as well.

“Many people question fate and destiny,” she started out, her voice soft in the empty room. “Many question the existence of a god or several gods or whether there is something out there guiding us and they have a right to do so. For me, fate and destiny exist. It has to. Because if it doesn’t,” the flame was blown out, “then I am nothing more than a broken mind trying to piece together two separate personalities and an overactive imagination.”

She put down the spent match and looked at her companion, her expression serious. “I don’t mind if you don’t believe in destiny, Draco. I really don’t. But, for me, I have to believe that there is already a path we’re meant to walk, even if we stray from it or if it changes as we change and grow.” She turned away. “I have to believe that Fate is not just my creation, that what I see isn’t made up. Otherwise, I might go crazy.” She looked over at him. “And this world would be doomed.”

He swallowed heavily, his hand a tight fist around his wand. “Ok,” he said, giving a slight nod. “Destiny exists.” He touched her arm, offering a tight, soft smile. “And you’re not crazy, Ray. You’ll never be crazy.”

She smiled gently at him. “I hope you’re right, Draco.” She looked back down at the matches. “I hope you’re right.”
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The sun was out but it wouldn’t burn off the thick fog. The clouds had been overhead longer than the fog had and he didn’t expect that to change. His footfall was soft in among the trees as he made his way through the forest, his gaze sweeping the fog.

“They say it just appeared one day.”

He stopped, looking back. Three others were walking behind him, each carrying a child on their back. The one behind him met his gaze and she nodded. He returned it, looking to the other two. They nodded as well. Turning forward again, he started walking.

“People started vanishing without a sign.”

He picked up his pace.

“It took us three days before we started seeing shapes in the fog.”

The trees were whipping passed him as he dodged one and then another with relative ease. The bonus to being what he was.

“That’s when the bodies started showing up.”

There was a snap to their left and he dug his heels into the dirt, scraping to a stop. The other three came to a stop around him, all of them looking towards the source of the sound.

“Someone said that the fog was driving people to murder.”

All they saw was the forest.

“I believe them.”

And the fog.

“I’m worried that…..”

He turned to continue on but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black mass and he whipped around.

“I’m losing my mind, too.”

There was nothing there.

“There’s no way out.”

He jumped at the touch to his arm and looked to the girl that had been following him. She wasn’t looking at him.

“I keep seeing the shapes in the fog.”

He turned slowly.

“They keep speaking to me.”

He felt himself instinctively bristle.

“Keep calling my name.”

He couldn’t move.

“They won’t leave me alone.”

Couldn’t breathe.

“And no one else believes me.”

The masses in the fog stared at them.

“They don’t understand how dangerous these things are.”

He moved to reach for the girl beside him.

“That once you enter the fog….”

The masses were upon them before his hand reached her.

“You’re dead.”
WatchingConfusedAccident
Always watchingNot understandingNever meant to speak to each other
Never talkingSomething strange?Never meant to interact
Just observedSomething wrong?Something wrong


UnderstandingTrappedSmoke
Her questionsHe gave her a momentThey’re burning
Her obsessionShe took moreHe can smell the gasoline




HeatNoiseWind
She’s laughing with gleeHe begins to understandHer remains






SmileDamagedChanged
He spat blood to the ground as he circled the groaning figure on the ground. The crowd held its breath, its gaze either on the prone figure or the stalker. He came to a stop at their head, his expression murderous.

“Stay down,” he growled, and the figure flinched.

He turned and stepped towards the ring of onlookers. There was a shout and a commotion behind him and he turned in time to see the fist coming at his face. It collided and snapped his head sideways. He took a step sideways to counter, absorbing the blow with ease. He recoiled, countering with an uppercut to the attacker’s gut. They choked as he fisted their shirt and yanked hard sideways. There was a crack as they hit the ground. He brought his foot down on their knee and their scream joined the second crack.

He glared at the others, hands relaxed at his side. “Any others?” he challenged, his voice calm but dark. The crowd took a collective step back. He turned around again and continued the way he had gone. The crowd parted as quickly as it could, people stumbling over their own feet.

He pushed the door open and made sure it closed completely behind him before he continued on.

He entered the room, a bloody mess and head held high. The other capo looked to him but his gaze was for the underboss. “Situation’s been handled.” The underboss nodded without looking up. “Is the Don available? He wanted an update.”

The underboss gestured towards a side door. He crossed the room but stilled with a hand on the handle as the underboss commented, “He’s not in a good mood.”

A rueful smile crossed his face. “Neither am I.”

He opened the door and made sure it closed behind him before making his way down the hallway.

He knocked on the thick door. A muffled voice permitted him entrance and he stepped in, closing the door behind him. The Don was situated behind a large oak desk, the consigliere sitting in one of the chairs facing the Don. He took a step forward and dipped his head. “Situation is handled.”

The Don arched an eyebrow. “And you thought it would be prudent to appear before me in such a shape.”

A tight smile curled his lips. “He knows.” The man tensed. “He’s going to start a war.”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

He shrugged. “We all know the consequences of going war, but that’s beside the point. He’s aiming to hit you and yours.”

The Don ran a hand over his face. He could see from where he stood the hand was trembling. “Can you take him out?”

His expression tightened as he thought it over, running plans and information as quickly as he could. “Possibly.” The Don looked to him. “You know my in. A situation like that–”

“No,” the Don spoke vehemently, slamming his hand on the desk. “I will not condone such an act on that family.” His expression softened. “I will not do that to you.”

He found himself relaxing. “I’ll talk to him, see what he thinks.”

“He the one that gave you this information?”

He nodded. “He doesn’t want this war. He believes his Grandfather has officially lost it. His father and uncles won’t stand up to the geezer.”

The Don chuckled. “Rightfully so. That ‘geezer’ is the Don of that family for a reason. He’s the reason why that family has the reputation that it does.” The Don narrowed his eyes. “How much time do we have?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. He was trying to find that out without giving himself away.”

“He still has familiar support?”

He nodded. “The underboss has no qualms with our relationship, neither do some of the capo. But his father doesn’t know.”

“Find out. I do not want to be surprised.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement before turning and exiting the room. He pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text as he made his way out of the building. He nodded towards the underboss on his way out. The underboss returned it.

The drive was quick. He pulled into the parking spot, smiling gently at the sight of the car next to his. He climbed out and made his way to the apartment, opening the door as excitement rolled through him.

It quickly turned to ice in his veins.

There, standing in his apartment, was his lover. But he wasn’t alone. The Don of his family was sitting on his couch, the underboss beside him. His lover looked ashamed as a stranger that had been behind the door closed it and patted him down. His gaze was only for his lover.

“He did nothing wrong,” the underboss spoke as the stranger relieved him of his concealed weapons. “He did something rather brave, actually.”

He frowned at his lover but he had yet to gain the other’s gaze.

The stranger grabbed his arm.

It was instinct as he dragged his foot about to shift his stance as his hands wrapped around the man’s arm. He jerked them sideways, leaving a sizable dent in the wall. He drove his knee into the man’s gut before socking him in the temple, knocking him out.

“Steve!” His lover was on him, dragging him away from the stranger. Slender hands were suddenly cupping his cheeks, forcing his gaze away. Brown eyes were sharp, alarmed, but oh so familiar and he relaxed as he pinned the man’s hands to his cheeks.

The Don rose, stating, “I want to end this feud but I am unable to do it on my own.”

He pulled his lover to his chest as he looked to the Don, curious.

“I have a job for you.”

He tensed up, not sure he was going to like this.

“I need you to cut my strings.”

He blinked.

“I don’t understand.”

The Don gave him a flat look.

“I am being controlled.”
“I am being controlled.”

White hot anger rushed through him, blending dangerously with his confusion. He countered angrily, “But you’re the Don of one of the largest, most fears families in this city. You put the Stark family name on the fucking map! How can you be–”

“Rogers,” the underboss cut in, sounding tired. “Calm down and listen.”

He closed his mouth. The Don sat down. His lover gently pulled him towards the loveseat. He sat down with an arm still around his lover. The Don sighed, asking, “How did you end up in the Fury family, Rogers?”

“Unfortunate circumstances.”

A smile to pull at the Don’s face and his lover dipped his head to hide his laughter. He felt a smile creep onto his own face.

“And where do you sit in the Fury family?” the Don inquired, amused.

He was pretty sure these questions were for his benefit only. “I’m on level with the other capo.”

The Don nodded. “And how many of those capo are actually related to the Don.”

His brow scrunched in thought. “None that I’m aware of.”

Again, the Don nodded. “And the underboss?”

He shook his head no, certain.

“The Fury family is powerful and well known for being a family that isn’t of blood. Most of the other old families have tried sabotaging the Fury family because it goes against everything we set up but the family you’re a part of is strong and fought back, matching pace with the greats of us. But the one thing that is rumored is that there is no way to control the Don of the Fury family. Even holding family at ransom will bode in nothing more than one’s death.”

He chuckled, offering, “Not sure about the death part but it’s pretty accurate. We each can hold our own and fight back. We’ve lost a few capo that way but we each know the risks.” His grip tightened around his lover. “We’re willing to do everything in our power to not allow someone the upper hand on the Fury family. Even if that means we take our own life.”

The Don nodded, seeming pleased with the information. “Unfortunately, the Stark family is not set up that way. We are part of the old ways and we protect those that are most precious to us.”

He shook his head. “Then how did they get a hand on your strings?”

The Don’s lips quirked towards a smirk. The Don seemed pleased with the returned metaphor. “They’ve targeted your lover, my Grandson, who is slated to be the next Don.”

He tensed, looking down at his lover in concern. Brown eyes were watching him but there was no shame, no hit of anything, actually. He looked back at the Don. “What do you want me to do? Cutting strings is rather vague.”

“I need you to take Tony and protect him. Get him away from all this chaos. Then, arrange a meeting for me with your Don. It will put you both in more danger but he has the recourses and people to truly cut my strings.” The Don gave a rather sad look even as he smiled. “It’s time this ridiculous feud ended anyways. We would benefit far more by working together than against each other.”

He nodded, standing. His lover stood with him. He opened his mouth to reply.

He coughed, tasting metallic, earth, and acrid smoke on the back of his throat. His ears were ringing and his body felt like it was on fire but, as he moved, he realized he was littered in glass, shards falling from him as he got up. He looked up, frowning.

What had happened? And where was he? Last he remembered was talking with the head of the Stark family but this didn’t look like his apartment.

“Tony?” he shouted, choking on the smoke still hanging in the air. “Tony!”

He turned. He could make out the remains of his own car but that told him little. He reached into the back of his pants and found his gun still in its holster. He pulled it out and found it undamaged and the safety still engaged. He checked the magazine – it was full – before flicking the safety off. He slowly made his way down the sidewalk.

The place was a wreck, like someone had dropped a bomb on the place. But it was a town he didn’t recognize in an area of land he was unfamiliar with. There were mountains so close that he was certain the town was in a mountain valley. He ends his way on, not finding anyone. He wasn’t even sure of his lover was there with him but, without his memory–

There was a noise behind him and he whipped around, his gun coming up. He found his lover pulling himself out of a shop. He belted the gun and took off running, quickly aiding the other out of the shop remains. “Thank heaven,” he breathed, running his hands through his lover’s hair. “You ok?”

The lithe man nodded, reaching out and gripping the front of his shirt for a semblance of stability. He pinned the hand to his chest with his own hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” his lover uttered. “Sprained ankle but I’m not dead.”

He pressed a careful kiss to his lover’s lips, asking, “Do you remember what happened?”

He watched his lover’s face scrunch up in a way that had him smiling fondly. He always loved watching his lover think. “Last thing I remember is us standing up before my Grandfather. You were going to make a comment about protecting me and arranging a meeting between the Dons.”

He nodded. “That’s the last I remember as well.” He glanced about the town, pulling his lover to him. “We’d best get moving. Whatever happened here, I don’t want to be caught when it happens again.”

His lover nodded, holding tight to him. “How much survival knowledge to you know?”

“Enough.”
He reached out, grasping for the white gloved hand proffered to him. The black and white mask – always grinning, always staring – dipped with the motion of pulling him up and out.

“Ready to go?” a female voice asked from behind the mask, the grin on the mask clear in the words.

He glanced back, back at a life he was never meant to live. He nodded and followed the figure.


……………………………… .:~@~:. ………………………………

She shuddered, feeling his presence before he ever got the chance to announce himself. She turned, looking back at the black and white mask forever grinning at her. He tipped his head to the side and she got the distinct feeling he was grinning at her. “Ready?”

She made a face. “I never had a choice.”

He hummed, waiting. She glanced back before stepping towards him, taking his proffered white gloved hand.


……………………………… .:~@~:. ………………………………

The cigarette smoke wafted towards him as he sat at the bar milking his bottle. The chair beside him creaked as the figure settled into it, a phantom of his mind. “This is almost over,” a voice spoke, neither male nor female but solid, sure, and soft only for him to hear.

He chuckled dryly, bringing the bottle up as his perpetual smile grew sharp. “No, really? Could have sworn this charade was going to last forever.”

The figure beside him chuckled and he glanced over to watch as the figure pushed up the black and white mask – frozen in a grin as his own face was – and took a puff of a cigarette. The smoke curled around them as the world darkened. “Just hand in there.” The figure placed a white gloved hand on his shoulder. “You’ll make it out of this. Just give it time.”

He didn’t believe them.


……………………………… .:~@~:. ………………………………

She ripped the mask off her face and threw it aside, disgusted as a corporeal form appeared beside her, dressed as she was but still wearing the blasted mask – black and white with its frozen grin. The other tipped his head to the side and she could feel his frown. “There’s no need for that.”

“No need!” she bit back, rounding on him. “No need? Did you not just witness the same thing I did!?”

He brought his hands, the white gloves bright in the low light. “I did. But that does not warrant this behavior.”

She turned from him, yanking at the white gloves on her hands. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing this anymore.”

His disapproving glare was felt even through the mask. “Too bad. You don’t have a choice.”


……………………………… .:~@~:. ………………………………

He watched as the younger studied the black and white mask in their hands – forever grinning, forever metaphorical shackles – as he sat beside them, his fingers dressed in white gloves intertwined between his knees. “Henry?”

The young man looked up at him, brown eyes belaying the younger’s confusion even as the sharp mind worked to understand. “So, you’re Fate?”

He shrugged, looking down at his gloved hands. “More of a branch of Fate, a small part of Fate.” He looked sideways at the mask. “I have the abilities of Fate but Fate cannot be housed completely inside a human body. So, instead, Fate is in every person, allowing Fate to maintain guidance for any and every timeline possible. It allows Fate to see everything and understand it all.”

“And this mask?”

He reached over and pulled it from the younger’s soft grasp. “A symbol of Fate. This mask is known across timelines, across dimensions, into universes we will never understand.”

He gave a sharp grin. The mask cracked in his grip. “Fate is Everywhere, forever present.”
https://78.media.tumblr.com/f3f92394509afff8489868b216bc5937/tumblr_inline_oeuzffkvhW1t9y758_500.png

Her whole body bobbed with the music blaring from the headphones hanging around her neck as she reloaded. She traded it to the young man beside her for the gun he was already using. He was bobbing right along with her.

“Reload!” came the call from an older young man several windows away on the same wall. She caught the gun tossed at her and she grabbed up an equivalent already loaded and tossed it in return. She grinned as his shots went off in time with the music. She shoved another magazine into place into three more weapons before picking up a rocket launcher, leaning backwards through the window, aiming, and letting it fly.

The stream of exhaust curled about before coming down and she grinned at the explosion that threw up bodies. She slid back into the building and reloaded.

Without saying a word, she passed off a new gun to the one beside her, falling into routine as the song repeated.

“Nothing new?” the one beside her teased, taking four out without trying.

She gave a bark of a laugh. “Aw, come on! It fits the mood!”

“In Britain?” the one farther down challenged, though it was clear he was not complaining.

She shrugged, kicking over another weapon to him. He grabbed it without looking, pocketing it. “You have to admit, it’s got the best beat.”

He chuckled. “Just change it over when they come in.”

She gave a vicious grin as she flicked the safety off, turned, and aimed. “Absolutely.”

She took out seven in rapid succession.

The minutes passed and the waves lulled between being very heavy and lax. There was clamor from above and they were joined by four more people, all of who came through the glassless windows.

“They’re on their way,” the only woman of the four stated, her voice hard, her gaze even harder. She glared at the headphones. “Turn that bullshit off.”

She couldn’t help the grin she gave the leader, pulling out the music player tucked into a pocket. “Sorry, Boss, but ain’t happening.”

She flicked through music and changed songs as the two young men were replaced and they came to her, gathering the weapons. They clipped her in as she hauled gathered weapons onto her back, and she tested the rope and then her harness before slipping out the window. Allowing the rope and harness to take her weight, she took out four more targets as the young men joined her on the outside, both just as laden down with weapons as she was. The one that had been at the far window smirked. “Much better music choice.”

She beamed at him as the ropes jerked them skywards.

She passed the roofline first, flying up past the roof as the pull mechanism lost contact with her rope. She rolled in the air, the rope flying around, before she landed heavily on the roof. She shrugged off the weapons as the young men landed on either side of her. She unclipped herself as the woman operating the winch hurried over, shoving at her glasses. “Are you alright? The speed on the winch got stuck.”

She grinned at her. “Of course.” She walked towards her male companions. “You’d best get to safety.”

The woman shoved at her glasses again and nodded.

She watched as the nerdy woman hurried off, cocking the gun in her hand before joining the two young men at the roof’s edge. She grinned at them both. “Ready boys?”

The one that had been farthest from her shrugged but the one that had been beside her gave her a grin. A siren went off and their gazes went towards the horizon. Here came the airborne hoard.
She couldn’t breathe.

The smile that split her face, though, belayed the sensation of her stomach joining her heart in her throat as the rollercoaster pulled out of the dive. She let out a whoop, leaning with the rollercoaster as it banked this way and that, rolling completely over and going through loops. By the time the rollercoaster came to a jerking stop, adrenaline and thrill were pulsing through her.

“Bloody hell,” came the curse from beside her and she leaned forward against the harness, looking to her riding partner. He had a bewildered look on his face but there was the same thrill in his eyes as she was still experiencing. She grinned at him.

“Again?”

“No!” came a cry from behind them. They both laughed, though her partner’s laugh was more out of his bewilderment then true amusement at the cry. She leaned back, settling once more in her seat as she called back, “Didn’t care too much for that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love flying,” came the snappy reply. “But this was just brutal.”

She laughed again as another voice piped in behind her. “I thought is was bloody wicked!”

She grinned, though the other couldn’t see her. “Figured you would, Harry.”

The rollercoaster slid forward on the track, entering the terminal for unloading. The restraint raised itself as she released the buckle and hopped off, glancing first at her riding partner then moving to the two young men sitting behind her. The one that was directly behind her was fighting with his harness restraint. She walked over and promptly pushed down before pulling up, freeing the blonde from his trap. He pushed passed her, clearly eager to get off. The other boy, Harry, smiled at her but lagged, looking towards the back of the ride.

Four men were heading their way, conversing easily even after so many years of bitterness between two of them. It was clear that two of the four – and not the two that had so many years of bitterness between them – hadn’t really enjoyed the rollercoaster ride. She quickly cornered both men.

“Not your thing?” she questioned, already knowing the answer.

The blonde, clearly related to the young man she had freed, shook his head. “I will have to try it from the front, as you had suggested initially, and not listen to Severus when he says that the back is the best.”

He stepped passed her after the blonde boy. She looked to the remaining man, his scars unusually stark on his pale face. He gave her a weak smile and placed a hand on her head. “Sorry, Rachel. Just not my cup of tea.”

She covered his hand with hers, beaming regardless. “I’m glad you at least gave it a go.”

“Heck yeah we gave it a go!” One of the two remaining men wrapped an arm around the scarred man’s shoulders and, while the action looked as if it was rough, the scarred man wasn’t even phased and the concern on the other man’s face spoke that it hadn’t meant to be rough. “Do we need to get you anything or…”

She caught sight of Harry frowning in concern as she did the same thing. The remaining man – looking similar to the man currently touching the scarred man but with a hooked nose and a narrower face – stepped over to her riding partner, though his obsidian gaze was on the scarred man. “Nausea Remus, or something else entirely?”

Though spoken with a slight snide undertone, the words were of genuine concern and the scarred man – now named Remus – merely smiled gently. “I’ll be fine, Severus. Rollercoasters have never really been my thing.”

Rachel looked to her guardian, asking, “Should we start heading out?”

“Oh, no, I’ll be ok!” Remus assured as they all meandered to the exit. “You brought them along to show them the rides. Go have fun. I don’t mind sitting out.”

The man that still had his arm around Remus’s shoulder gave the other a small frown. “You sure, Remus?”

Remus nodded, giving the man a fond look. “I’m sure, Sirius. Go have fun. I’m sure Lucius and I can pass the time quite easily while you and the others ride more rides.”

“If you’re sure…”

Rachel bounded ahead as she came out of the exit path at last, grinning at the pair of blondes with equal sneers on their faces. She bound right up to them and clasped her hands behind her back. “Next one?” she asked happily.

The blonde young man narrowed his eyes at her. “Which one?”

She pointed at the building not far from where the duo was standing. “It’s like an arcade game. You shoot things with a laser gun and accumulate points. It’s great.”

“Sounds like something I would be ok on,” came a call from behind her.

She turned, beaming. “I hoped it would. It goes pretty slow, in comparison. Everyone should be fine on it.”

The remaining unnamed man nodded in approval. “Lead the way,” he urged, and Rachel grabbed a hand of both young men and dragged them away, the adults following at a more sedated pace.
A poem about two lovers separating at dawn.
Forever
We had Promised
Parted at the break of day
knowing We’d never see each other again
Ignorantof the fate awaiting us
Watching the sun risebeyond the cell bars
Metal gleamingsharp
[/td] Swift
A silence heavy
Weight of shattered hearts
Echoes of yesterday
There was no onecrying
Nothingbeyond our shadows
As the crowd gatheredOutside
Yesterday there was hope
There was Love
But now there was only
Death
“You doing ok?”

He looked up, startled by the young man standing before him. He offered a carefree smile, assuring, “Yeah, why?”

“You look sad.”

His smile faltered but he prayed the other didn’t notice. He forced it bigger. “Ah, just tired. I had a long day.”

The other before him took the bait and laughed. “Haven’t we all?”

The grin he had plastered on his face returned to the carefree smile, but he could feel how fake it was. A part of him desperately hoped the other couldn’t see the cracks in his mask. A much larger part was very certain the young man before him could not. “You doing anything after this?” he asked, changing topics.

The other lit up, happily launching into the plans for that evening. He listened attentively as he always did, conversing easily with this partial stranger before him. But the compression in his chest would not ease up.

“You gonna come?”

He chuckled. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

Because nobody cares. People will be happy to see you but they won’t care if you stay.

He swallowed against the thoughts, his focus on the one before him faltering as the compression in his chest expanded to include his gut. He turned his forced smile into a grin. “I can’t wait till this evening.”

Someone called the other’s name and they dipped out. He remained sitting there, anxiety taking his appetite away. He looked down at his meal.

No point in going. You’re just a waste of space. No matter what they say, you’re not important. You have no right to be there.

He bit into the rest of his sandwich.

Really, you’re nothing more than a nuisance.

He swallowed thickly and shoved the last bite into his mouth, slipping off the low wall he had been sitting on.

You’re worthless.

He entered the common space and greeted those that greeted him. He felt like he was floundering. He didn’t know what to do.

You’re a burden.

He slipped out, trying desperately to not panic.

Who would want anything to do with you?

He gritted his teeth as he tried to regain his mask.

After all…

He closed his eyes, fighting to keep his breath normal.

You’re defective.

He forced his eyes opened, desperately shoving the thought away.

Broken.
The man brought his head up as the bell at the top of the front door rang. With a sigh, he pushed himself up and away from the work bench, glancing briefly at the closed circuit security monitor. A single person had entered the shop and he thankfully recognized them. Sadly, in these times, one could not be too careful.

Stepping out from the back, he was standing behind the counter before the person caught sight of him. They approached, dressed in easily forgettable attire, with an easily forgettable face. The only reason why he recognized this person was because they visited his shop so often. They reached into what he supposed was a breast pocket as they approached.

Once they reached the counter, they placed their closed hand fingers down on the counter before carefully placing whatever was in their palm upon the glass. They retracted their hand, revealing several bits of currency and an odd trinket, no bigger than what could comfortably rest in a closed palm. He cocked a tired smirk, picking the odd trinket up. “Need a new one already?”

The figure shrugged. “Hard week.”

The man pocketed the odd trinket, arching an eyebrow. He had forgotten how forgettable their voice was. Nothing about this person seemed to stick in his memory very well, did it? “I’ll say. These things are not meant to break so easily.”

Forgettable lips twitched towards a smirk. “Hard week,” they repeated, though now there was amusement laced into their words. But, even then, they just sounded tired. Always tired. Funny how that was one of the few things he remembered about this person.

He reached under the counter and grabbed a crate before placing it on top the glass. He leaned back a bit, looking over the assortment of odd trinkets all meant to do the same thing but slightly different in minor details. “Not sure why you keep coming back here for one if you have such hard weeks. These are all used and won’t last you quite as long as a new one.”

The figure merely dug through the contents, though he didn’t understand why. There wasn’t really any need to. They all did the same thing.

But, like always, the person found one they seemed to deem worthy over the others and tucked it into an inner pocket as he put the small crate away and collected the currency. He touched the one in his pocket as he watched the person turn, his curiosity – and his concern – nagging at him. “Why do you keep coming back for these if you just keep needing to replace them? Wouldn’t it be easier to just buy a new one?”

The person stopped not far from the counter and turned back, their eyes piercing in a way that had him feel as if his soul was bare. He involuntarily shuddered. The person offered with ease, “This is the cheapest place to buy one. Besides,” the person touched wherever they had tucked the odd trinket, “they don’t make them how they used to.”

“Oh?” the man inquired. “And how’s that?”

The person smiled but it looked sad, yet fond, causing anxiety to quicken his heart. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that expression and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“They used to be stronger.”

The person left without another word, slipping out of the shop along with the man’s recollection of what the person looked like. He swallowed thickly, pulling the odd trinket out of his pocket to look at it worriedly. Stronger?

He turned and entered the back area, sitting at his work bench and placing the odd trinket down on the work surface. He grabbed the nearest tools and started popping the thing open, though it took a bit of work. The outer case clattered against the work bench as he stared, dumbstruck, at the thing before him.

With a shaking hand, he reached out careful fingers and gingerly brushed them over the exposed inner workings of the soul case. It was a mastery of mechanics and alchemy but, as of late, he had been getting a lot of them. He had thought it was because people no longer needed them. It would seem he was wrong; the newer cases were nothing but a hoax.

The case had always protected a soul from sharp words and anxieties, keeping apathy and self loathing at bay with ease. He looked to his door, his heart feeling heavy. How many people had come through his door that he had forgotten? How many of them had been hoping for just one reason to be remembered? Cared about? Loved? How many of them had he just sold a new case to that would not make it through the next week because it failed?
Influenced by:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRg4B_AEcS0


“You are my sunshine,”

The caverns echoed as she made her way through them, her breath short and her body aching. She pushed on as hard as she could, tripping in the dark with numb feet. The water that flowed through the caverns was ice but she had no time to avoid it. She needed to get out.

“My only sunshine.”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she ignored the tightness in her throat. It became a moot point as her foot caught and she let out a cry as she fell into the water. The freezing water stole her breath and panic swelled in her chest. She pushed against the floor.

“You make me happy”

She broke the surface with a gasping cough. Shaking from the cold and fear, she stumbled forward, searching for the rock wall. She found it and leaned against it, a sob escaping her as her body trembled.

“When skies are gray.”

She pushed away, moving on as quickly as she could. She was becoming numb, unable to feel anything now. She tripped again, but this time she kept her feet under her and she didn’t go under again.

“You’ll never know, dear,”

There was a sound from behind her and she tensed, listening. Eyes wide, she looked back. There was no light, nothing to illuminate what she had heard, but that didn’t matter.

“How much I love you.”

She was being followed.

“Please don’t take”

She moved farther into the caverns, following the wall as the water level slowly rose. Or maybe the floor was descending. She couldn’t tell.

“My sunshine away.”

She took a step but there was no ground to stand on.

“I’ll always love you”

Her head went under the water again and the freezing cold water stole at her breath again, coaxing panic into her chest. She swam against the current to where her other foot was still solid against the cavern floor. She pushed her head up over the surface again, gasping and coughing with lungs that felt like they were being compressed. She stood up fully and huddled against the wall.

“And make you happy,”

She looked towards the way she had come, not sure what to do. There was no telling what was ahead of her but she knew for sure what was behind her.

“Cus you are my sunshine,”

She looked towards the water before her, even though she was robbed of her sight with no light. Did she dare swim in the bitter cold, see if there is an end to the cavern and flow with the water to the way out?

“My only sunshine.”

But what if there wasn’t a way out?

“You make me happy”

The sounds were growing louder.

“When skies are gray.”

She was running out of time.

“You’ll never know, dear,”

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she sank into the water till her head was just barely above the surface. Setting her feet against the edge of what floor was left within her reach, she kicked off, swimming slowly and carefully in as straight of a line as she could manage.

“How much I love you.”

She swam for what felt like forever, her limbs numb from the freezing temperature of the water. She was getting tired but the sounds hadn’t died down. At one point, she rolled onto her back and just drifted, letting the water to take her wherever it wanted. She ended up bumping against a wall. She straightened in the water and felt along, finding that the ceiling was just barely brushing the top of her wet head. The cavern itself had closed in around her. She could touch both walls at the same time.

“Please don’t take”

There was a splash from where she had come from and she pressed up against the wall behind her, feeling solid rock against her heels. She was trapped.

“My sunshine away.”

She screamed when the amber eyes materialized before her.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
He watched his smoke tainted breath curl up towards the night sky, the smoke leaving his lungs illuminated by the street lamps around him. The sun had set barely an hour ago but there was still the sound of children laughing and adults talking as groups of people milled about the streets. One such group passed by him and he dropped his gaze long enough to nod towards the adults and wave at the kids, commenting and admiring the costumes each wore.

Halloween; a major holiday shrouded in mystery and folklore. The majority of the children in costumes going from door to door saying “Trick or Treat!” probably didn’t know all that was behind the holiday. He scraped his cigarette against the stone wall. Heck, he’d bet that a good number of the adults didn’t either. Or, at least, know fully.

He stood up from the low wall he had been perched on and started to make his way down the street. He made his way into a darker part of the neighborhood, the homes that were either empty due to whatever reason or the homes that just didn’t participate in the holiday. He pulled out his cigarette pack and lit another one. Pity.

The smoke from his cigarette curled around him as he moved from home to home. Some had unknowingly protected themselves from his presence. It actually made him happy when that happened.

He did not take pleasure in his job.

He came to the first home that was occupied and not protected. He made a face in disgust. He entered the home and closed the door behind him, the door returning to its locked state. A drunk man was passed out on the couch, some movie playing on the TV screen. The place was a wreck but he ignored it.

Ok, so he lied. There were some aspects of his job he took pride in. This was one of them.

He made his way into the first bedroom, finding it void of life. He moved to the second bedroom, finding it surprisingly clean for a children’s room. Two pulses of life came from the closet and he turned his head. The shutter closet doors were closed but he knew they could see his form. He walked over, hearing the faintest of breaths hitching. He squatted before the closet, offering a tired smile the children probably couldn’t see. “It’s alright,” he assured. “I’m a friend. I’m going to take you trick or treating.”

The only sound came from the living room, the TV still blaring its movie. He waited patiently, knowing what would happen. It always happened.

Slowly, the closet doors opened. The two children looked horrible. He offered them each a hand. Their tiny hands closed around his fingers and he gently guided them out of the closet. He smiled down at them. “Ready to go?”

The older of the two grabbed his cloak. “You really taking us trick or treating, Mister?”

He nodded. “If you would like. We have time before we need to be anywhere else.”

The older of the two narrowed their eyes, intelligent. “Where else are we going?”

No wonder he hadn’t visited the pair beforehand. “There’s a party where a lot of kids like you are going to be at and you get to make all the friends you want.”

“Really?” the younger asked, full of sudden, trepidatious hope.

He nodded again. “But we have to play a game first.” The older’s eyes were upon him, trying to decipher his words. “It’s called the Quiet Game.” The older’s eyes flickered in understanding and the younger tensed against him. They understood. Good. “Once we step outside, the game ends, but you can’t make a noise till we get to the front step. Ready?”

They nodded.

He led the way.

They had almost made it to the door when the drunk man woke up. The man blinked at him before realizing that he had the man’s two children in hand. He cursed under his breath as he pulled the children behind him, feeling them cling to his cloak. He faced the drunkard coming at him as he summoned his scythe with a vicious grin.

[ArtisticVicu]

October 2016
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

His breath curled before his face, visible in the cold fall air as he sighed. He watched it with tired eyes, body laden with more than just the pack on his back and the winter cloths keeping him warm. The sky above was barely turning from night to day without a cloud in the sky. Even the last few stars that he could see beyond the branches and remaining leaves seemed to wink goodbye at him as he turned his attention from the sky above.

As the last of his breath dissipated, he turned enough to look back at his companions. Two were standing about, patiently waiting with packs fully packed. Two were near the fire pit adjusting something on the younger of two’s pack. Another stood up from where one of the tents had been, slinging their pack onto a shoulder as they stood. He met their gaze briefly before looking over the others once more.

“Ready?” he called out cautiously.

There was a collection of nodded affirmations but the one still working on the pack spoke up. “Two seconds.”

He nodded in turn as the others started to move towards him.

A wind rustled the changing leaves and bare branches above their head. He looked up, watching as leaves were gently pulled from their branches and sent dancing towards the trodden path below.

“Alright, let’s go.”

He looked down at the last duo to see them joining the others before he turned and started down the path. Silence hung around them, filled only with the sound of crunching leaves beneath their feet and the wind playing with the treetops. The silenced stayed for quite some time as the sun crept higher into the sky till, at last, sleep had released them completely and a few in the group found topics to expand upon. He stayed at the front of the group, not feeling the need to converse with any of them.

It seemed that others had a different idea, though.

“How long have we been out here?” a soft voice asked from his left. He glanced over, finding himself looking at the girl that had been packing near one of the tent sites.

“I lost count,” he confessed, looking ahead again. “A couple of months, probably.”

She fell silent beside him, the chatter behind them as soft as their conversation had been. They had learned not to be too loud.

“Think we’ll come across more supplies soon?”

The weight on his shoulders seemed to grow. “I hope so.”

She slipped her arm around his, resting her head against his shoulder briefly as she sidled up against his side. “Me too.” She raised her head off his shoulder. She glanced back at the others, specifically to the one that had being aided with their pack. “You should talk to him.”

He chuckled, looking down at her with a tired expression. “Why should I do that?” He glanced back. “He’s perfectly ok not knowing.”

Her grip around his arm tightened as she glared at him. “But you’re not.” Her expression fell. “Please, Warrick. It would be nice to see something happy before this all ends.”

He looked down at her but his own expression showed nothing more than exhaustion. “I can’t, Viera. Jaden does not need that.” He couldn’t help glancing back. “Not now.”

He watched as Jaden laughed softly at something the older man walking beside him had said. He felt Viera slip from his arm before he looked at her. She was looking at him with a strange expression. He frowned. “What?”

“Warrick, I–”

The snap of a twig shot through the trees like a crack of thunder. The entire group froze, eyes wide and instantly turning to the surrounding trees. He reached out, slowly pressing Viera back towards the group that was huddling together on the center of the trail on the leaves. At first, there was nothing, and they stood packed together in the cold fall air for a long time without speaking.

He was the first to see it.

There, at the edge of his vision, a shape appeared: a mass of fog that vanished when he looked directly at it. He gave an involuntary shudder as he watched out the peripheral of his vision the creature getting closer, blipping in and out of existence and changing location as it got closer. At least, he hoped there was only one.

They all jumped when the thing suddenly appeared before them, pressed up against the edge of the trail in the leaves. None of them made a sound as they all stared in horror at the mass pressing against an invisible barrier protecting them from the creature’s touch.

It was a grayish white, like fog at the edge of morning. It had a shape that was ever changing, wisping away like fog does only for the main mass of fog to never change density. The thing’s eyes were like shaped onyx, black and shiny without really seeming like eyes.

For what felt like an eternity it stared at them, reaching for them only to fail. Eventually, the thing moved on as if it had either grown bored or had gotten distracted. He wasn’t sure but he felt his companions relax around him.

He knew better, could see the faint wisps of the other creatures now forming around them. The other creatures kept their distance, waiting.

Viera tugged on his arm, gaining his attention. He looked away for only an instant but it was all that was needed.

He woke with frost coating the fur of his hood. His breath was visible before his face in the freezing night air as he carefully pushed himself upright. He rubbed at his head, shaking away the lingering feeling that he was forgetting something.

He was used to it.

Pulling out a leather bound book, he opened to the bookmarked page and stared down at the list. Fifty-three names were scrawled there, all but five crossed out. He looked around.

He was alone.
“Trick or treat!”

He glanced towards the front of the house they were passing, seeing the small chorus of children before the front door all dressed in a different costume. Only one of the parents was on the porch with the kids, the others hanging back on the walk chatting. A fond smile pulled at his lips as he looked forward again.

At the end of the block, someone was waving. His fond smile broke into a grin and he waved back, easily recognizing his best friend and the rest of the gang.

She tackled him when he was close enough, her fake faerie wing smacking him in the face and covering it in glitter. “You made it!” she exclaimed, slipping away from him. She took one look at his face and broke out into giggles.

He gave her a playful glare as he wiped what glitter he could off his face.

“Here,” spoke a calm, stern voice. He jerked slightly at the sudden feel of bristles on his face but he held still and waited as the brush took the glitter from his face more efficiently than his hand. He smiled to the girl dressed as a witch, offering, “Thank you.”

She tucked the brush back into her bag, the rest of the gang settling around them.

“Ready for this chaos to begin?” teased the young man dressed in actual full armor.

“Where’s your sister?” asked the other young man of the group who was dressed as an elf from Lord of the Rings.

“Bringing the twins,” he easily supplied, sticking his hands into his pockets. “She was helping them fix one of the wings.”

“Who crunched their wing this time?” teased the faerie.

“Dynasty.”

The witch scoffed. “Again?”

He shrugged. Not like he had anything to say towards it. The knight looked over his shoulder and perked up. “Hey, there they are.”

The group looked down the sidewalk he had walked up to see a young adult walking with what appeared to be two young teens. The young adult was almost the spitting image of him, excluding a few details in the costume. They were both wearing black suits but his had a white vest, black shirt, and white tie versus the black vest, white shirt, and black tie of the other. They both had the same black fedora and same freaky mask, though he wasn’t currently wearing his like his twin was. He flicked his fingers at her and she signed right back, their white gloved hands easy to see in the dim light of night.

The two young teens bounded over, their feather wings bouncing behind them and their halos bobbing over their heads. They were dressed in the same white toga, a golden medallion on opposite hips depicting the same symbol. The knight grinned at the pair. “I hear you broke a wing, Dynasty.”

The male of the two teens made a face, snapping, “I didn’t break it. I rumpled it.”

“Oh, is that all?” the witch challenged. The elf placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent warning that the entire crew noticed but didn’t comment on. There was no need to.

He turned his attention from his twin to the male angel. “Dynasty,” his gaze moved to the female angel, “Destiny, you two sure you want to wear that? You guys look like you’re 13. 14 at best.”

“Yep!” came the unison chime. The faerie giggled.

“Can’t blame them,” she replied, beaming at him when she met his gaze. “They are just downright adorable.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as his own twin stepped up to his side. “Alright. Let’s head out before we’re even more late than we already are.”

“Not gonna be late,” the female angel chimed, bounding to the lead with her twin following suit. He chuckled, glancing at his twin. She dipped her head in acknowledgement, a sign of reassurance with her face obscured by the mask. He moved his own mask from around his neck and placed it over his face.

The group of eight wandered the streets, the angels leading the way. There were many comments from those that passed them about the costumes and how cool some were or how impressive others were or, in his and his twin’s case, how creepy they were. Most of the talk was in whispers behind their backs but some actually stepped up and offered the compliments to them directly. It was a good sign for the evening.

By the time they reached their destination, it was clear the party was already in full swing. With a chuckle and a shake of his head, he followed the others up the steps, his hand reaching back for his twin. Her hand slid into his and gave it a squeeze. He took comfort in the fact that she didn’t pull her hand away after that.

The place was loud and packed but the energy was high and the music was pulsing. There were many types of costumes from professionally made to thrift store throw togethers. Some of the thrift store ones were rather impressive and there were a number he could see just in the first room that were handmade and had been done with skill.

The angels kept going, passing through the first room into the kitchen. The gang followed, none of them lingering. They found their other cohorts chilling in the much calmer space of the kitchen.

“You guys made it! Sweet!” said a dude dressed as a surfer. He had gone for the wetsuit look rather than just the swim trunks, which was probably wise. The surf board was leaning up against a wall but he knew that the surfer would leave it behind for where they were heading.

“Of course we made it,” chastised the faerie playfully, hugging the Catwoman that had stood up the greet them. “We are so excited.”

“Who’s first haunted house is this?” asked Catwoman, looking to the rest of the group.

He watched as the faerie, witch, elf, and angels raised their hand, along with the surfer and the doctor tucked into the corner beside the surfer. Catwoman’s gaze swept over the raised hands quickly, eyeing the Batman and Superman behind her as if not believing them.

Superman offered a smile, replying, “We went to one last week.”

Even from under the mask it was clear Catwoman had arched an eyebrow at the Batman. The man shrugged. “My sister got us in for free.”

“So how far is this haunted house of yours?” the witch asked, her arms crossed.

“20 minute walk, if that,” the surfer supplied, getting up. “We’d best get going before we get blocked in by the party.”

“We coming back?” he asked, shifting to the side with his twin as the surfer moved to lead the way, the other three that had been sitting near the surfer standing.

The surfer gave him a wicked grin, one promising mayhem and fright. Or, at least attempted to. He didn’t take the look seriously. He knew the surfer too well to take it seriously. “If we survive.”

He rolled his eyes in good humor, moving his head to convey the motion that was hidden by his mask. The witch slapped at the surfer’s arm, gaining a giggly laugh from the surfer in turn. The large group filed out of the house and back onto the street, heading beyond the house and the neighborhood.

Sure enough, not even 20 minutes later, the group was coming upon a haunted house that was massive and oh so enticing. He squeezed his twin’s hand still tucked into his own and she squeezed back. He was excited and he could tell she was too. They both were excited to see just how scary this house could be. It had been a long time since they had had a good scare, let alone so many friends to share it with.
He pushed the branch aside; he looked around as the sound of the others approaching grew louder. He took a step back, looking to the others as he kept the branch out of the way. “We should be good here.”

He gained a grateful nod from the man aiding the very pregnant woman into the crude shelter. The last member of the company moved slowly, his gaze on the trail and woods they had just passed through, as if expecting an attack.

“Come on, Balthazar,” he urged gently. “There’s nothing out there yet.”

“Until it rains,” the man grumbled, slipping under his arm into the shelter. He followed suit, finding that the man had aided the very pregnant woman to the floor leaning against what he could now depict as an old stone wall. He looked around, now able to see the remnants of an ancient home. He looked up. The majority of the roof was still intact over the area where the pregnant woman had settled and it appeared that the vines, shrubbery, and trees had filled in the gaps. It was a miracle that there wasn’t an animal nesting in here yet.

“There is no rain…yet,” the man helping the woman stated. “And when it does come, we’ll be fine in here.” The man looked at him. “Right, Dasan?”

He looked towards the entrance, thoughtful. “We should be fine from both that and the weather. The original structure here isn’t completely compromised and the plant life has filled in what was compromised.”

“Good,” the woman commented with a sigh. She tensed, her hands going to her swollen abdomen with a hiss. The man that had been helping the woman knelt beside her quickly, a hand covering hers.

“Lady Hilma?” he asked concern written all over his face.

“I’m fine, Derek.” She offered him a soft smile, covering his hand. “Just a contraction.”

“Wait, isn’t that a bad thing?” Balthazar demanded.

Derek glared at the older man but it was Dasan that spoke up. “Easy, Balthazar,” he stated, stepping forward to gain his attention. “We knew that she was due at any time. Children do not wait for the most opportune time to be born.”

Derek turned his attention to the soon to be mother. “What do you need, Lady Hilma?”

“For one, for you to stop calling me Lady Hilma,” she chided, though her look was fond. “It’s just Hilma. And two, nothing for right now. I will let you know if I need anything.”

Dasan tipped his head to the side. “Has your water broke then?”

Hilma nodded. “About an hour ago.”

Derek gave her a look as Dasan nodded. “Lady,” he chastised, “you were suppose to tell me.”

Hilma waved him off. “I was not experiencing contractions so I was not worried about it. Now that I am, I’ve told you.” Derek gave her a flat look. She shrugged. “Fine. You discovered it. But still, the baby should be hours away. We’ll be fine.”

There was a low rumble and Dasan looked towards the entrance.

“I don’t know about that,” Balthazar grumbled. Dasan looked at him, curious. The older man was glaring at the entrance. “The rain’s coming in. If we don’t move soon, we’re stuck here till the storm passes over.”

The low howl rolled through the forest around them and they all tensed. All but Dasan. He looked towards the entrance again, curious, and not at all worried. Balthazar hissed in displeasure. “They’re out.”

“Guess we’re here for the night, then,” Hilma stated plainly, as if that settled the matter. Dasan watched Balthazar grumbled as he sat down in a far corner. That was plain enough for him to know that it had been. Dasan slipped his pack off, offering, “If you would like, I could go gather fire material.”

“I wouldn’t go out there if I were you, boy,” Balthazar ground out. Dasan looked to him but there was nothing more than curiosity on the young man’s face. Dasan watched as Balthazar squirmed under the look, which confused Dasan. “Those things are out now.”

Dasan looked to Hilma and Derek. “We’ll need a fire if we’re going to stay here long enough.”

Derek looked as if he was going to argue, but Hilma’s voice overrode him. “Be quick and be safe, Dasan.” She gave him a soft smile. “We’ll see you shortly.”

Dasan nodded and ducked out.

The rain came an hour later in a torrent. By the time the rain started, Dasan had a fire going, a decent pile of wood and kindling behind him and a small opening somewhere in the roof to let out the smoke without letting the rain in. Or the beasts currently releasing low howls beyond their makeshift shelter.

“The rain is nice,” Hilma commented into the silence, her eyes closed. “Peaceful.”

“With the beasts howling out there?” Balthazar asked in disbelief. “It’s more haunting than peaceful.”

“Balthazar,” Derek warned but Hilma placed a hand on Derek’s shoulder, silencing him.

She looked to the older man, Dasan watching all of it with open curiosity. “You have not had good experiences in the rain, then, I take it?”

Balthazar gave a huff of a laugh, his gaze over at the entrance. It seemed answer enough for Hilma, at least, as Dasan returned his gaze to her. She settled and closed her eyes again. Derek met his gaze, his expression something Dasan could not make out. “Get some rest, Dasan.” Derek turned his gaze onto Balthazar, his gaze hardening. “You as well, Balthazar.”

Balthazar grumbled but settled in to sleep. Dasan looked to Hilma, a question on his face. She smiled. “It’ll be a good few hours before the baby arrives. I’ll have Derek wake you.” Dasan’s face became worried and her smile grew. “I promise. Don’t worry.”

Dasan nodded and gave in, settling. He closed his eyes and listened to the rain outside and the low howls that accompanied it. Before he knew it, he was dreaming. It wasn’t something overly coherent. He could feel earth beneath his feet as he ran. But he wasn’t running out of fear, he was running out of joy. The rain around him felt fantastic and he couldn’t help the cheer that went up. Others cheered around him and he found himself in a group, all running just to run in the rain.

He woke with a start, this itch to run strong as he looked up at Balthazar. The older man’s expression was taught. “Kid’s coming.”

Dasan rubbed at his eyes as he got up, looking to Hilma. She was sweaty, breathing hard, and holding tight to Derek’s hand as pain rippled through her. Dasan walked over, Balthazar keeping his distance. He looked to Derek.

“Can you deliver the baby?” Derek asked.

Dasan nodded, touching Hilma’s knee as he knelt before her. He looked to Hilma. “Are you alright with that?”

Hilma nodded, her soft smile pained but encouraging. “I trust you.”

Dasan dipped is head and settled in to work.

Four hours later, a child was born. And as the child fell free of his mother, a howl went up, so loud it sounded as if it was nearly outside the entrance. A chorus joined it, just as close. The child’s cries joined them.

Cleaned as best they could manage and swaddled in a spare shirt, the baby was placed against Hilma’s chest and Dasan settled back where he had been sleeping.

He watched as Hilma and Derek cooed over the babe, and, surprisingly, Balthazar as well. It was like the birth had temporarily removed their attention from the howls outside. But Dasan was completely aware of them, hyperaware of them. And the itch to go outside and run was becoming unbearable. He found himself jerking to awareness staring at the entrance to the shelter. He looked up at Derek, wide eyed. Derek offered him a tight smile. “Join them,” he offered softly.

Dasan bristled, looking towards Hilma and Balthazar. The pair was preoccupied but Dasan could tell that it was all Hilma’s doing. He looked back up at Derek, not understanding. Derek pushed at his shoulder again. “Go.”

Dasan glanced one last time at the other before ducking out. He shuddered, the feeling of the rain on his skin feeling fantastic. He took off at a run.

There were others that joined him and he found himself letting out a cheer that sounded more like a howl to his ears. The others around him weaved with him in and out of the trees and, in no time, he found himself on the edge of a cliff, panting hard but feeling invigorated. He looked at the others and felt, for once, in a place that he belong.

He turned, kicking off the rock he was standing on and landed on all fours at a run.

[ArtisticVicu]

November 2016
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

They said that if you saw one, your life was forfeit. I never understood what they had meant by that, never connected the dots till I was older.

I was told things had changed when I was only two. I don’t remember what had happened nor what life had been like before but I do remember the fear, and the confusion. I remember the quiet games and constant moving. I remember boarded up windows and gray skies and never being able to play outside. I never questioned it.

I remember the older kids always having issues, the adults always getting into fights. I never understood what they were going through, why they had such an issue with it all. It was just how things were.

That is, till the rainbows started to appear.

I was 16 when the first one shot across the sky. I had learned from old books about weather phenomena so I knew, scientifically, what caused a rainbow: reflected, refracted, and dispersed white light in water droplets causes the visible spectrum to become visible. To be honest, I had always wanted to see one. But, then, I had always wanted to see the stars and feel the sun against my skin, but when the first rainbow cut across the sky and we were suddenly getting news that it was not a sign of hope, I pushed my hopes of ever seeing something beyond the gray sky to the back of my mind.

They said that those that had seen the rainbow vanished. No one knows how or why or what even caused the rainbow to appear beneath the gray sky. There had been no rain, no sunlight to reflect within the water droplets, nothing. They’re also saying it wasn’t an isolated incident. With what primitive communication we have, we were getting world that a rainbow had appeared all over the planet at relatively the same time and those that had supposedly glimpsed the phenomenon vanished.

Many were speculating that those that had seen the rainbows were dead.

It wasn’t till I was 20 that I questioned this thought. We went four years without the odd rainbows appearing again. At least, in the areas we were traveling in. It seemed the rainbows followed us, though, as word reached us as areas we passed were losing populous. People were blaming the rainbows but no one was giving forth actual testament that rainbows had been appearing.

Then, one night, something happened that had me disbelieving that thought completely.

I had gone out. I couldn’t sleep and I was feeling restless. I felt we were staying in one place for too long and felt the urge to move on but I couldn’t leave my family. We were a unit made up of blood and choice. So, I snuck out. By the time you’re 7, you know sneaking out at all is a horrible idea. It’s drilled into you by the ripe age of 16 to never be out at night alone and by the time you were my age, you wouldn’t even give it a passing thought. It was just nature.

But something was urging me outside and so I slipped out. I remember the adrenaline in my chest, stealing my breath as I took in the world that was supposed to be pitch black with night. Instead, it was illuminated by plants and animals that glowed. I could see as clearly in what we called night as I could in what we called day. It was magnificent. I had no idea that the plant life we barely saw in our travels could do such things at night.

I wandered far in my awe, the need for sleep long forgotten. I eventually found myself in the top of a tree, looking towards the once gray sky. There, my eyes caught glimpses of starry night beyond brief breaks in the gray sky. It was then that the realization hit me that the gray sky we knew was only a layer of cloud. How odd that such a thing created such a gray atmosphere during the day and such a vibrant scene at night.

It was addicting.

After that point, there was hardly a night that I didn’t sneak out. I got really good at hiding my excursions. The only people that noticed the change in my demeanor because of it were my dad, my closest sister, and my best friend. My dad was the first one to notice. He noticed after the second night and cornered me. He didn’t know what I was doing but he could tell something had changed and he was worried. I assured him it was nothing more than just finally sleeping better, which wasn’t a lie. At that point, I had crashed after both outings and had, for once, slept without worry. That didn’t help my addition.

My best friend and my closest sister cornered me two weeks later. I had gone out a total of ten times at this point. My sister had caught sight of me sneaking out twice and my best friend had noticed the change about a week in. My best friend had gone to my sister first before they came to me. They wanted to make sure I was going to be ok, that I was safe. I assured them but I couldn’t tell them why I went out. While I was willing to risk my own life to catch glimpses of the stars and see the beauty of the night, I was not willing to risk either of theirs.

It had been futile to even attempt.

A month and a half after they had cornered me, my sister and best friend somehow managed to follow me out without waking anyone or me noticing till we were already a decent pace away from where the others were resting. I had tried to urge them back but they could be as stubborn as me and so I showed them the wonders I had grown addicted to.

My sister wasn’t fond of climbing the trees like my best friend and I were so there were several nights that my sister would settle in a clearing to watch the skies as my best friend and I settled in the canopy.

It was up in those branches that my best friend kissed me. It was up in those trees that my best friend became my life partner. It was out in that night that the three of us made a pact to always keep an eye out for others itching to slink from the group and get away at night. The night could be just as dangerous as the gray day. There were still creatures and deadly plants and there were several nights we came back with injuries we had to hide.

And still we heard tales of the rainbows.

When I was 22, I had a falling out from my family. It had been a massive mistake on my part but what else was I suppose to do. My partner, my sister, and I had come across a child lost in the woods. We couldn’t just leave them out there. So, at the risk of everything, we brought the child with us and explained to the group how we had come across her and why we had come across her.

We were kicked out.

The group split nearly in half at that point. My dad came with me, as did my younger siblings and some of my older. Those too steeped in the old ways went on their way. Those that were open to what we had done stayed. In the end, we went from a comfortable group of nearly 60 to a group just barely over 20. My partner’s family had disowned them but my dad was there to state that my partner was already part of our family so it didn’t matter.

We didn’t go out that night.

I can’t remember when it shifted for us but we started traveling at night. We realized that we could travel farther and longer at night. We got used to the plant and animal life. We got complacent.

My sister had taken the child in but my partner and I helped her raise the child. Malnourished and clearly abandoned, the three of us worked hard to make sure the child regained a healthy weight and proper clothing. Soon the child was playing with the others, keeping up and even surpassing them in some of their games. It was amazing.

It should have been our first warning.

It was as the night was drawing to a close five years later and my partner and I were sitting outside of our shelter as the others settled that we saw it.

I don’t know how to describe it but it was definitely very similar to how it had been to see the stars for the first time.

A magnificent rainbow arched across the sky as night turned to day. Full and vibrant, my partner and eye stared at it in awe as we clung to each other. It had been years since we had any communication with any others and yet the fear from years ago was still there. We watched it till it faded away and even then we sat there shaking, clinging to each other. But I found that I wasn’t shaking out of fear. As I looked into my partner’s eyes, I realized it was joy, just as it was in my partner’s eyes. That rainbow had filled us with a joy neither of us understood.

We found a short while later that my sister and the child had seen it as well. It was shortly thereafter that the child divulged that it had been abandoned because it had seen a rainbow just like that one before. I looked from my sister to my partner and the same resolve was in their eyes as the resolve in my heart.

I woke my dad and informed him what had happened. I told him the four of us were going to slip away while the others were asleep to see where these rainbows had come from. I could feel the urge in my bones. My dad had wrapped us all in tight hugs but somehow our commotion had woken the others. We told them what had happened and, to our immense surprise and relief, the group wanted to go with us. So, our path changed and the following night, we made our way towards the origin of the rainbows.

It wasn’t till two weeks later that I had an epiphany. They had once said that if you see a rainbow, your life is forfeit. I never understood that till I watched the 15th rainbow I had ever seen cross the morning horizon. Seeing the rainbows filled you with immense joy and peace as well as an urge to follow them. It was hard to resist and that first morning on our trek had proven my instinct correct and the rest of our party had caught their first glimpse of a rainbow as the night turned to day.

It was about three years later when we finally reached the place where the rainbows had been coming from. We had caught sight of it about a month back but now we were walking right up to the edge. I don’t know what this massive structure is, nor these people that are coming to greet us are, but I do know that, whatever those rainbows had been, they had been bringing us to a place of hope. The rainbows had brought us to a place we could settle and call home.

If anyone finds this and this massive structure is no longer here, look for the rainbows. When you see one, you are forfeiting your life. You are forfeiting your life for a better one, for a safer one; for a life out from under the gray skies of planet Earth.
She checked her weapon, back pressed up against the remains of a wall. The sound of weapon fire pinging off the wall and scraping the edge filled her hearing as she snapped the pieces back together. The weapon charged in her hand as she pressed against the wall, listening. A slight lull fell in the weapon fire and she leaned out, taking shots as soon as she had sights for them.

Three of the enemy fell before she was forced back into cover. She moved along the wall, keeping low and out of sight as she moved to a different vantage point. The other edge wasn’t being targeted now and she used that to her advantage, crossing the gap as she took out two others before they noticed and re-aimed at her. A shot grazed her back as she moved to the next stretch of cover.

Barely even fazed by the wound, she took off running. The exit was well covered and clear. The hallway echoed with her heavy footfall and even breathing but she strained her ears, doing what she could to try and make out any other sounds.

Night air slapped her in the face. Surprised, she came to a stuttered halt, looking around. Not at all expecting to make it out, she did her best to get orientated as quickly as possible. There was noise behind her, not leaving her much time. Taking off, Adaeze kicked hard into the ground, wings unfurling from her back with searing pain. She ignored them, shoving her feet harder into the ground, trying to get as far as quickly as she could.

The wind somehow made the new appendages sting more and Adaeze shoved the pain to the back of her mind as her green eyes bled into their natural red. Magic choked the air around her and, with a crack, the world shifted and she collapsed several hundred miles from where she had been, shaking and in even greater pain.

“Adaeze!” “Oh goodness, is she alright?” “What-ARE THOSE WINGS?!?!” “Everyone calm down and give her room.” “We have to do something!” “Where did she come from?” “Can you contact her father?”

“Ada. Hey, Adaeze. Come on, respond to me sweetheart,” a low, gruff voice coaxed, cold hands resting on her head and between her wings.

She groaned. “Please tell me my father was not contacted yet.”

“Not yet, sweet cheeks,” the low, gruff voice assured. She opened her eyes, meeting a mismatched gaze and a worried expression. It didn’t lessen as her vision cleared. The pale face above her was far paler than it should be and she tried to push herself upright. The hand between her wings pressed down. “Not yet. We need to make sure your wings aren’t gonna damage you or get more damaged.”

Adaeze shuddered, burying her face in the crook of her arm. The hand on her head stroked through her hair. “Where’s Little Miss, sweetheart?”

An unnatural hush fell over the room. The silence stretched on as Adaeze fought with the lump in her throat. Eventually, she croaked out, “She’s not coming back.”

There were gasps and low whispers with the possible sound of someone fainting. The hand between her wings became heavier. It was too long and too soon when that low, gruff voice asked, “These are her wings, aren’t they?”

Adaeze choked on the sudden sob.

Hours passed in a blur and Adaeze found herself coming to by a knock on the door frame. She turned, looking at the three men there. The man that had knocked was standing in the entry while the other two remained out in the hall, almost to the opposite wall. Adaeze focused her attention on the man in the entry. “Hello Father.”

His eyes were not on her but on her new appendages. He stepped forward, a careful hand running over the still healthy feathers. “How…”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But it was beyond painful, for the both of us.”

“And the angel?” he asked, suddenly worried.

She shook her head again. Her father cupped her cheek before pulling her into a hug, wary of touching her wings. “I’m so sorry, my child. I wish I could fix this.”

Adaeze tightened her grip on her father before pulling away. “She was going to succumb to the Corruption anyways. This, in the end, was a mercy.”

He didn’t push the subject. Merely, he turned her around and examined the work that had been done. “How long did they say?”

“They don’t know.” She looked back at one of the appendages. “We’ll just have to wait and see what my body does. They believe we’re in the clear if they haven’t already been rejected but they’re not sure about lasting effects from the mixed blood.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be close. You have to let me know if there is anything I can do.”

“I will.”

The man left, leaving the two men standing outside the door. They entered, the taller of the pair removing his hat. Adaeze offered the brothers a gentle smile. “What can I do for you two?”

“Your old man asked us to keep you company,” the stout of the pair stated, the low, gruff voice from a few hours prior leaving the man’s lips. “We brought some games.”

The tall of the pair placed the bag he was carrying on the desk, inquiring in his higher, nasal voice, “We figured it would pass the time faster.”

“Bro’s idea,” the stout of the pair commented with a shrug, smiling fondly. The taller enjoyed the praise but it was clear there was a bit of trepidation with accepting all of it. Adaeze stepped forward and stumbled. She was not used to the weight of the wings, nor how they seemed to move on their own. Cold hands kept her upright and she met the unmatched gaze again. He frowned, asking gently, “You alright, sweetheart?”

Adaeze nodded, straightening. “Not used to these things.” She shuddered as one brushed against her arm. “May never be.”

“That is alright,” the taller assured, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “After all, there will be plenty of time to adjust to them.”

The stout man frowned. “Bro, we’re in the middle of a war.”

But the taller shook his head, pulling out a letter from a pocket. “Here they come, days of peace.”

She took the letter, finding it contained a flier that mirrored the words the taller just spoke. Adaeze looked up from the letter written in a very familiar hand to stare at the taller that just beamed at her. The stout man took the letter and read over it before looking the flier over.

“Bro, I don’t think this is a good thing.”

The taller waved his brother off. “They do not realize that we will be bringing the peace they are talking about.”

Adaeze shared a look with the taller’s brother. She offered the taller a tight smile. “I hope so.” She caught a glimpse of a wing twitching behind her. “I truly hope so after all we’ve gone through.
He woke up to a pounding headache and a view of the room from the floor. He groaned, not at all recalling how he had ended up on his stomach passed out in a room that was a wreck. He dragged his hands up to press flat against the floor near his shoulders, pushing against the unrelenting surface to counter his current position.

He hissed as his body complained but he managed to at least get himself up to sit on his heels. The room around him was too dim for him to discern any details of the mess around him but it appeared he was in some sort of office or lab. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.

Rubbing at his face, he got up only to discover his legs were really not happy with him. He nearly connected his face with the table he had grabbed at to keep himself upright. Grumbling, he put his weight on the flat surface and at least got his feet underneath him.

There were papers strewn everywhere over the surface, books lying open and on top one another and random objects all about. Some objects were even buried under the mess. He squinted, trying to gain better sight in the darkness but it did little. He reached about, looking for anything to give light. His hand brushed over something that rolled off the table and clattered to the floor. He cursed under his breath, stepping away from the table and feeling about the floor before his hands curled around a cold cylinder. He frowned, running his fingers over it. Seemed he was in luck as he clicked the flashlight on. He winced at the sudden light but swept the light beam over the room, discovering it was indeed a lab. And if he was being honest, it looked like a tornado had swept through.

He frowned, spying shattered glass and broken machinery along with tattered pages and disheveled books. There were stains everywhere of all sorts of colors and he really didn’t want to know what had happened here. Something reflected the light of his flashlight and his frown deepened as confusion pulled at his expression. He focused the beam on what had caught his attention and confirmed that the glint had not been from glass or machinery.

It took a while with watching his steps but he eventually made it across the room. He picked up what looked like an expensive journal by the spine. It had metal detailing across the spine as well as a complicated lock that appeared to have been shattered. He ran his hand over the hard cover, taking in the details.

He opened the cover, looking the inside of the cover over before flipping slowly through the pages. There weren’t any identification marks, no “This book belongs to ________” but the first true page was full of writing. The upper left corner had numbers scrawled on it that correlated with the two sets of numbers written in the left margin at the top of what appeared to be two separate units of text. He flipped through the pages without reading, realizing that the numbers referred to dates and that the dates in the left margin marked the start of a new entry. Some were a paragraph, if that. Others were pages long, pages filled with scrawled writing, equations, poor sketches, diagrams, and broken sentences. He started reading parts, settling on a clear bit of floor as he became engrossed with what was written.

This sense of foreboding settled over him and got heavier with every page turn.

As he reached the halfway mark, an entry caught his attention and he stared at the words before him.

40521XXe20913 – I just that today marks the 207th day of experiments and that I have started having a hard time remembering things. I think something is seriously wrong. I can hardly remember what I did yesterday and the others are starting to gain a sort of dazed way of going about things. We talk about things that I know we’ve talked about before. I’ve started rereading my entries and I find that I’ve been rewriting entries. We haven’t been making any progress. Any that we think we’re making has already been made. We’re going in circles. I’m starting to fear that I may lose my mind completely.

He hoped whoever had written this had managed to fix the issue but as he continued on, he found that they had not been able to.

The entries started becoming sparse and short. Fragmented, even. He came to a page with only two entries on it separated by a good chunk of blank space, an inconsistency with the other entries.

71921XXe31356 – We are not being able to remember anything now. Everything is being recorded. Everything.



81021XX1247 – I have made a horrible mistake.

He frowned and turned the page. It was blank. There was a good inch of pages remaining and he took the remaining pages in hand and started to rapidly flip pages, gaze looking for any discrepancies. About two thirds of the way through, a page had something heavily scrawled on it. He halted his flipping and slowly turned the pages back looking for whatever had caught his eye. He laid the book flat in his hand, gaping at the two words scrawled out with a heavy, rapid hand to take up as much of the page as possible.

REMEMBER NOVEMBER

The sense of foreboding was suffocating but he didn’t understand. Remember November? What did that mean? And when had that been scrawled?

He closed the book, running his fingers over the cover and hoping whoever had written those entries had found peace in whatever form it had come in.

He got up and stretched, his body still complaining but not as stiff. He made his way towards the door, riffling through some of the papers only to not understand any of it. He found more pages with the same handwriting but none of them told him anything useful.

He left the room before he came across the file folder that contained a picture of himself with different pages scrawled in two separate hands. One was neat, orderly and the other was the lazy strokes of those in the book he had discovered.

[ArtisticVicu]

Random Event 2
An Assortment of Writings
These were all from an event I did. I no longer have access to what the event was originally labeled and am simply pulling from my tumblr archive. Every item title is the given prompt. They were either a blended genre or a word, all with word limits.

His grip on the flashlight increased as he tried to swallow. The hallway before them was dark and there was an ominous feeling even just looking. The group pressed close to his back.

“Man, why are schools so creepy at night?” one of the boys near the back of the group whined.

“I don’t like this,” the girl against his back muttered. He chanced a look at her as one of the boys standing with him flicked their own flashlight on. Her gaze was ahead even though she was almost completely hidden behind him.

He offered her a soft smile. “This is the last hallway. We’ll get out of this just fine.”

The boy that had turned on his flashlight hummed in affirmation. “There’s nothing to be frightened about.” The boy looked at him. The boy’s glasses hid whatever his eyes were giving away. He cursed the boy’s perfect poker face. “Do you want to take the lead, Andrew, or shall I?”

“I’m take lead, Neal,” he replied, offering a soft smile. “After all, you’re words are pretty accurate. There’s nothing to be frightened about.”

“Says the two fearless!” someone complained from the back of the group. Andrew didn’t bother to glance back as he took the first step forward. A hush fell over the group beyond a few whimpers here and there. Neal matched his pace and the group fell into step behind them. It was slow going. Andrew was growing concerned and a glance at Neal assured him Neal was thinking the same thing.

“How likely is it that this hallway went untouched?” Andrew asked in a low voice. The girl that had been pressed up against his back had moved to his other arm, basically placing him between the girl and Neal.

“Highly unlikely,” Neal commented, his hand tightening around the gun in his hand. “We’d best prepare for an ambush.”

Andrew stopped to pull his gun from his back when there was a noise from up ahead. They all froze, listening intently. It happened again and Andrew pulled his gun around.

The swarm came much quicker than he had anticipated. He let loose a barrage as he pushed the girl sideways, Neal bringing up his own gun and firing. A good number in the group screamed as those with weapons wielded them. It was utter mass chaos and Andrew shouted over the noise, “Back towards the stairs!”

The group slowly gave up ground as Andrew, the girl, and Neal were cut off from the rest of them. Andrew threw a wild look at the group, catching an underclassman’s gaze. The boy looked to be freshman but his gaze was sharp, clear, and that was all Andrew needed. “Try two levels down! Book it if you can! The exits just at the other end of the hall!”

The boy nodded and took control. The noise was becoming too much for Andrew to relay anything else.

“Neal!”

Andrew’s head snapped around, staring in horror as Neal went down. The girl next to Andrew moved to aid him but Andrew wrapped a numb arm around her, shooting two zombies in the face. “We can’t, Lily!” he shouted, his throat tight. “There’s too much!”

“We can’t leave him!” she screamed, taking out five zombies in her fear and her anger.

He couldn’t argue with that, didn’t want to argue with that. Swiftly turning her about, he quickly reloaded before he started to clear a path to Neal. It was slow going but they eventually got to the point where Neal had been. It was Lily that pointed at the classroom. They were able to clear the way and make it in. They barred the door shut and Andrew stepped towards the center of the room as Lily stayed pressed against the barred door.

“Neal?” Andrew called, worry lacing his voice. There was a sound on the other side of the teacher’s desk and Andrew stepped carefully around it. “Neal!”

Andrew came to Neal’s side, his hands instantly shooting out and checking the lanky teen over. Neal tried blocking his attempt but there was no real intent behind it. He did give a goodhearted glar1e at the burlier teen. “I’m fine, Andrew. It was just for show.”

Andrew’s hands stilled, before he blinked down at his gun. It took a moment of staring before his brain registered he had a paint gun slung around his shoulder. He looked at the pistol that Neil was sporting and saw that it too was a paint gun. He suddenly burst out laughing, his entire body shaking. “Holy cow,” he breathed between laughs. He watched Neal chuckle right along with him, rubbing at some fake blood on his face.

“What did you think?”

Andrew nearly jumped out of his skin as Neal brought up the pistol out of reflex. Thankfully he wasn’t trigger happy as the class president for the sophomore class smiled down at them expectantly. She grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Can we create a haunted house, or what?”

There was a snort from Lily. Andrew looked to her to see her expression alive in a way that he hadn’t seen in a while. He looked down at Neal and saw the same look.

“That was sure impressive, Robins,” Lily commented, walking over. She placed a heavy hand on Robins shoulder and brought her face close to the smaller girl’s, her expression blank and yet murderous at the same time. “Don’t do it again.”

Robins just grinned. “Oh, so going to. I think we could make some real bank with this stuff.”

“Just no more students as guinea pigs, Robins,” Neal commented, standing as he pressed his glasses higher up his nose.

“Yeah,” Andrew added, beaming. “We don’t need more ghosts wandering the halls.”

Robins gave a bark of a laugh as Lily shot him a glare. It was totally worth it as he saw Neal trying hard not to laugh out of the corner of his eye.
He pulled hard on the reins, the horse turning hard with the gesture. The animal’s hooves scrapped the cliff edge as the path narrowed drastically. He pushed the horse on, not chancing a look back to see if they were still being pursued.

The ledge they traveled on began to narrow so much that he was forced to pull back on the horse’s speed. He let the animal settle as a walk, now taking the time to glance back.

There was nothing but the dust the hooves had kicked up and he let out a breath of relief. He was anxious but it was better than being caught. Looking around, he took in the canyon before looking towards the sky.

The sky was still striking blue and the sun had not shifted to the western half of the sky yet, meaning he had a good number of hours before he had to start looking for a place to camp. He turned his attention to the trail, looking for what his companion had told him about.

It was quite some time before he had caught sight of it and even more time before he even reached it. When his horse’s hooves were stepping off the trail that led to the floor of the canyon, the sun had already passed so far into the western half of the sky that there was barely any sun touching the eastern wall of the canyon.

He dismounted and led the horse along, his gaze searching. He took a moment to allow the horse to drink from the river and he drank from his canteen. It was while he was drinking that he caught sight of it. A couple hundred feet off was a cave tucked into the wall in such a way that anyone that happened past wouldn’t necessarily see it easily. As soon as the horse had its fill of the water, he walked the animal across the river and towards the cave on the other bank.

The cave was dry, like most of the air and land around the canyon, but it was safer than being out in the open. He unbridled the horse and hunkered down for the night. It would be a long one but the cave was deep enough for him to not worry about the light from his fire being seen.

That is, till there was a snap outside the cave entrance.
The mechanism gave a soft click as he deactivated the lock and it was with careful hands that the contraption was removed. His hands were on her in an instant, soft, soothing, and concerned. She offered him a soft smile as a way to sooth his concern.

There wasn’t any emotion behind it.

“I am fine, Ekrom,” she offered, his name feeling weird on her tongue. But he had ordered her to use his first name, so she did to please him.

“I shouldn’t have sent you there.”

She tipped her head to the side. “It was necessary to get the information you needed.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I could have gotten it a different way.”

She righted her head, a soft frown on her lips. “I am fine, Ekrom,” she repeated. “No harm befell me.”

“But you could have!” he barked. A look of shock then guilt passed over his features but she merely blinked at him in response. He rubbed at his face, replying gently, “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, Isabeau.”

She didn’t respond and merely watched him as he calmed down before touching her neck and shoulders again. “Are you sure you are unharmed?”

“Yes, Ekrom. No harm befell me.”

His hands stilled at her neck and confusion pressed against her usually emotionless mind. Her first instinct was to hide it but Ekrom has asked her to show more emotions, to become more human, so she let the confusion show on her face. “Ekrom?” she asked, her voice still as flat as ever.

He seemed to be debating something but, since he was not voicing what it was, she did not offer her opinion on it. Eventually, he removed his hands from her neck and she noted that the place where his hands had rested seemed colder than they should have been. This time, her confusion showed unwillingly on her face. “Ekrom?” she asked again, this time her voice taking on an inflection.

He tried to offer her a smile. It didn’t work. “I’m sorry, Isabeau. Truly, I am.”

“What for?”

“For sending you there.” He ran his hand through her hair. “You’ve reverted back.”

She frowned. Confusion just seemed to be the emotion that was sticking with her that day. “I do not understand. Am I not behaving properly?”

She couldn’t decipher the look on his face. It was like he was in pain and yet sad at the same time. Why was he in pain and sad? Was he hurt? Was someone he cared about hurt?

“You are,” he assured, cupping her cheek. “But you no longer have the light in your eyes you had gained before going in.”

Her frown deepened. She didn’t understand. She was doing as she was supposed to. How had she changed? She hadn’t been that long from home.

Home. She blinked, her cheek suddenly cold. She reached up and touched her cheek, only for her fingers to come away wet. She blinked again, realizing that she was crying. But why was she crying? She looked to Ekrom again as something she could only label as panic squeezed her heart.

His lips were against hers before she could speak his name, a chaste kiss that only brought more tears and a heart-wrenching sob from her chest. He pulled her close as a flood of emotions rocked her.

It all scared her, all of it. The swirling vortex of emotions was too much to handle but Ekrom had his arms secure around her and was speaking softly to her. It was quite some time before her sobs settled into soft hiccups before cutting out completely. She looked up at him as he pulled back. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She quickly cleaned her face, holding the soiled handkerchief in her lap. Confusion was still a large emotion she was feeling but it was mixed with relief now.

He cupped her cheek again and drew her gaze to his. He kissed her softly again, asking against her lips, “Are you back, Isa?”

She gave a small nod, though she voiced, “I…I think so. I’m just…still really confused.”

He captured her lips for a third time, this one longer, deeper, and so full of love that she was drowning by the time he pulled away. She desperately wanted to stay drowning but they had a job to finish.

“I’ll run some checks and see what kind of mind altercations they were using on you,” Ekrom stated, moving to step away.

Her hand closed around his arm, her grip surprisingly strong but still easily broken. He looked to her and she was glad that she was feeling more than just confusion as she let her determination show on her face. “Ekrom.”

The determination faltered as he looked at the arm she was holding onto. He covered her hand with his, giving her a soft, knowing smile. “I’m not going far, Isa. Promise.”

She released his arm unwillingly. He briefly kissed her lips once more before walking over to the equipment.

“Alright,” he stated, rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s get to work.”

He looked to her, his gaze concerned. “You sure you want to do this?”

She nodded. “While it’s still fresh.”

He nodded and grabbed a tape recorder before walking over. He pressed record. “This is Detective Ekrom Newmets with information on the Reformation Project. With me is my Collared, Isabeau. She has willingly gone undercover for me to bring back information on the Reformation Project. These are her findings.”

He held the recorder out to her and she met his gaze as she started to speak.

“The Reformation Project is not what it seems.”
08:00
The alarm went off, filling the room with some song randomly chosen the night before. He looked towards the main room from the private bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth. Stepping out, he smiled around the utensil at the sight of his partner currently burying himself deeper into the bedding. He tapped the alarm off and returned to the bathroom to finish up.

Two minutes later, he stepped out and walked back over to the bed. He prodded his partner in the ribs, chiming, “Time to get up.”

“Don’ wanna,” came the muffled comeback.

His smile turned into a grin. “Are you sure about that?”

He still found it highly entertaining that the grown man that was his partner had some very sensitive ribs when prodded right. There was an indignant squawk from his partner as the man rolled away from the offending appendages. He simply followed, pinning his partner to the mattress as he started a tickle war. He wasn’t overly ticklish himself but it did lead to some very pleasing things.

14:00
He looked towards the planet’s sun, shading his eyes to take in the sky. It was nice to be planet side for a while. He dropped his gaze to find his partner approaching him. He smiled at the man.

“You sure about this?” his partner asked.

He nodded. “It’s been quite a while since the last time and I’ve been itching to do it since we landed.”

His partner dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Stay close, just in case.”

He nodded again, starting for the treeline.

18:00
He watched as the last of the supplies were loaded up and transported back. All that remained to re-board the vessel were personnel. His partner walked up to his side, silent but a kind smile on his face. He returned it, not hesitating to take the man’s hand in his. His partner’s expression turns endearing and presses a kiss to his temple. He leans into the other, content as they waited for their turn to return to a decaying ship that had become home.

20:00
He wasn’t sure whose idea it had been to do karaoke and glanced down at the cup in his hand. While he might naturally have a high tolerance for the crap they were calling alcohol, he still found himself getting drunk in bursts. It was weird but he didn’t question it. His partner, on the other hand, was still a lightweight when it came to the stuff and constantly misjudges how much of the stuff could be consumed safely. Chuckling, he stood up and swayed, shaking off the effects of the latest surge of wasted. Slipping an arm around his partner’s chest, he pulled the fit man to his feet. He let his partner press against him when the other’s legs seemed to be a lot slower than the rest of him. His partner started ranting and raving, trying to get him to let the man stay and drink some more but this was so routine that he didn’t even need to fight his partner to get the man to walk with him.

22:00
He ran a hand through his damp hair, hand keeping the towel around his waist securely around his waist. There was a pleasant thrum running through his body and he couldn’t help but wear a goofy smile on his face as he watched his partner glare at the device in his hand.

His partner glanced up at him, lowering the device with a soft smile. “You going to join me or just stand there and admire the view?”

“Can’t do both?” he challenged as he stepped away from the doorframe towards his partner.

His partner shrugged, putting the device on the nightstand to give him his full attention. “If you want to but you may end up freezing doing that.”

He captured his partner’s lips in a chaste kiss before wandering over to what equated to their wardrobe. He dressed in his typical nightwear and clambered in beside his partner, settling against the mattress. “I think you forget that I’m a furnace.”

“Not a chance I can forget that wonderful aspect.” His partner laid down, resting their head on his chest. He buried his hand in the other’s hair, content.

03:00
He came to struggling, phantom pain lashing through his body. Cold hands were holding his face and a familiar weight was settled on his abdomen. Cold sweat had drenched his body but he felt too hot in his own skin. He gripped at his partner’s hands on his face, whimpering as his partner pressed their foreheads together.

“It’s alright,” the man uttered softly. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He barred his teeth in shame as he squeezed his eyes shut. He latched onto his partner, arms pressing the other flat against him and fingers clenching at the fabric of the man’s nightshirt. He pressed his face into the man’s chest. It took longer than normal for him to calm down and he could tell that his partner was concerned. He only held on tighter.

“Which was it this time?” his partner asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Shame washed through him but he spoke up anyways. After all, they had seen each other at their worst and their best. No need to hide from the other now.

“I dreamt that you had been killed in front of me and I was thrown into a tank to be experimented on later.”

08:00
The alarm went off, filling the room with some song randomly chosen the night before. He looked towards the main room from the private bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth. Stepping out, he smiled around the utensil at the sight of his partner currently burying himself deeper into the bedding. He tapped the alarm off and returned to the bathroom to finish up.

The world flickered around him like a screen that lost image for an instant.

He hadn’t even noticed.
He grabbed his gun before slowly edging his way towards the mouth of the cave. He hadn’t come this far to get ambushed by some animal.

Turned out that it wasn’t an animal but a person and an injured one at that. He pressed the barrel of the gun to their head, instantly recognizing them as one of his pursuers.

“Give me a good reason not to blow yer brains out right here,” he challenged in a drawl, his hard eyes not leaving the top of the stranger’s head.

“Because then you would be rightfully committed, just for the wrong murder,” the stranger snarled, glaring up with striking blue eyes.

It felt like hours to the both of them before he sighed and lowered the weapon. Finally taking in the stranger, he frowned. He squatted in the dirt next to the stranger as the other struggled to right themself. “What happen’ to ya?”

“Your companion is what happened,” the stranger hissed. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the stranger’s anger or pain. He settled on both. “I somehow survived the fall down the side of the canyon.”

His eyes narrowed but he wasn’t about to call bluff. The injuries he could see were not consistent with rolling down a canyon wall. He leaned forward and ignored how the stranger tensed. He grabbed the stranger’s arm and slung it over his shoulders before wrapping his arm around the slender frame. He hauled them both to their feet but the added weight and the stranger’s legs not behaving caused them to nearly fall into the dirt. He got a good handle and led the stranger into the depth of the cave.

Night had settled fully when he finished patching the stranger up. He came to realize that the stranger was not much older than his oldest son and had a spirit that was admirable. As they settled in for the night, it was with terse voices they exchanged names.

“Name’s Oliver.”

“Dick,” the stranger replied.

“What got you tangled up with that batch, Dick?”

The stranger shrugged and shifted to turn his back to him. Oliver sighed and let the younger do as he pleased.

Oliver at first regretted saving the younger man’s life. Dick wasn’t the best of conversationalists and they certainly didn’t see eye to eye on quite a lot. There were times where Oliver was tempted to just leave Dick in the dirt to die but he never managed to bring himself to do just that. Something always happened to either derail the conversation and the idea with it or their entire situation completely. Somehow Dick ended up being in as much danger as Oliver was.

The younger man’s wounds were, thankfully, healing well and Oliver counted that as a blessing. As they settled in for their seventeenth night together, Oliver couldn’t help but voice his concern.

“What ya goin’ to do once yer able to handle yerself on yer own, Dick?” Oliver challenged, though his voice stayed even.

Dick shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you, old man. Being with you has somehow ended up labeling me as a traitor for whatever reason.”

Oliver chuckled, dropping his gaze to the fire. “Ya know why they’re afta me?” Dick looked at him but didn’t answer. Oliver didn’t mind. As long as he had the young man’s attention. “They’re afta me because I helped some natives escape.”

Dick sat up, frowning. Oliver merely glanced at him at the motion. “Escape from what?”

“From death,” Oliver spoke easily. “They were gonna be killed just cuz they weren’t gonna give up their lands.”

Dick shook his head. “Should have pegged you with being associated with savages.”

Oliver gave a barking laugh. “Son, if ya think they’re the savages, ya have yer head on wrong.”

Dick frowned at him.

They travelled for another two months. Somewhere along the way the pair had gotten used to each other to the point when Dick had the change to leave, he merely purchased a second horse and continued riding with Oliver. Those two months had not been easy and the winter months looming ahead were going to be even harder but Oliver could tell that the younger man was changing, becoming a better man.

They came across a tribe of natives just as the first snow fell. Dick watched in awe as Oliver was welcomed with open arms. There was tension when it came to associating with Dick but Oliver’s words soothed whatever unease the natives had.

A week into their stay with the tribe they were attacked. It was utter chaos as the natives were massacred by white men. Oliver leapt into the fray without a second thought, being a great aid to the natives. Dick was less enthusiastic to jump in but Oliver watched as the younger man gained motivation when children started dying within his line of sight.

The pair of men found themselves fighting side by side but it wasn’t to last. Oliver saw the attack aimed at Dick that Dick couldn’t see. Instinct drove his feet and he found himself taking the attack meant for Dick.

Dick turned around at Oliver’s cry and he caught the older man. In the chaos, they were forgotten and Oliver silently counted it as a blessing. Dick’s full attention was on Oliver, though it was clear the younger man was flustered.

“Just hang in there, Oliver,” Dick urged, his voice sounding thick to Oliver. “I’m gonna…I’ll patch you up and you’ll be right as rain.”

That was a lie and they both knew it. Oliver grabbed at Dick’s hand, ordering, “Leave me. Go help the children get to safety.”

“But–”

“Go!” Oliver shoved at the younger man, spurring him forward. Oliver collapsed back into the dirt, noting belatedly the red smears he had left all over Dick. He hoped the younger man would forgive him as he succumbed to eternal sleep.
The contents crashed to the floor as the table was overturned in his anger. “Leave me!” he bellowed, his wings out around him as his tail lashed around his feet. The servants and creatures scattered, leaving him alone in his private study. How could this have happened?! He lashed out in rage, destroying a good number of furniture. Books and paper flew about but he paid them no heed even as his magic picked everything up and tossed it about.

One airborn book smacked him in the face and he grabbed at the accursed thing, ready to set it on fire for daring to collide with his face. But the magic for the spell dissipated as his curiosity for the book took precedence. In his hand was an old journal bound in brown leather. He recognized it for what it was even with the lack of markings because he used the same exact type of journal for his own studies. He had a shelf full of them that detailed his research and observations.

After living for as long as he had, he had come to the conclusion that there was no such thing as coincidences. Righting a chair, he settled in it and let the journal fall open.

He had just barely glanced over the page when the temptation to burn the damned thing returned. He snapped the book shut and threw it aside.

“You think this is some sick joke giving me that book?!” he demanded of magic, even as it would never answer. “I do not need the reminder of just how much this parallels what had happened then.”

“Akakios?” a soft voice asked from the doorway

The instinct to turn and lash out nearly surpassed his self control. Gritting his teeth, he forced his wings to close against his back and his tail to settle. He took a calming breath but the anger was still there beneath the surface. He looked to her, his red eyes apologetic. “Yes, Ariana?” he asked gently.

“Are you going to come to bed?”

His wings drooped as his gaze sought out the nearest clock. “Yes.” He returned his gaze to her as he approached her. “I should have been paying more attention to the time. I had not realized so much time had passed.”

His hand cupped her cheek and she nuzzled his palm, her hands coming up to cover the appendage. “If there is anything I can do-”

“This is not a matter you should be concerning yourself, Ari,” he urged, stepping close and pressing his lips to her forehead. “Please. Let only one of us be stressed about this.”

She gave him a stern look. “I am your wive and the reigning Queen at your side. It is my privilege to lighten your burden.” Her gaze softened. “So, please, let me help. Let me in.”

Akakios captured her lips before breathing against them, “I wish I could.” Magic curled around them but, even though the urge to manipulate her memory was there, he didn’t act upon it. She trusted him after so much. He wasn’t about to ruin that trust again. “Please understand.”

Ariana gave him a look he couldn’t decipher but she eventually sighed, giving in. “Alright.” She cupped his cheek as she gave him a peck on the lips. “Just, come talk to be before terrorizing the servants and destroying your furniture.”

He offered her a fond smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Ariana grinned and stepped back, taking his hand. “Good. Now, let’s get some sleep. I’m sure it’ll do us both wonders.”

He followed after her but he glanced back at his study, seeing the book he had tossed resting on a chair. He let out a silent breath. It would seem that Magic was not done with him.
The car puttered by as he crossed the cobble street. He barely gave a glance to the growing city as he hastened up the front steps into the apartment building. Shaking out his coat and fedora, he slowly made his way up the flights of stairs to his home.

The key stuck in the lock like it usually does. The apartment was dark and cold, just like he left it. He shut and locked the door before he crossed to one of three light sources in the flat. The bulb lit up as fiercely as it could but shadows still remained. He draped his coat over the back of a chair before entering the kitchen. It was tiny but it had a stove and a fridge so he didn’t complain. He pulled water from the tap and put it in a kettle on the stove to boil. It wasn’t till then that he slipped out of his shoes.

Dropping his hat on the coat rack, he made his way to the bedroom, loosening his tie as he went. Flicking on the second light source, he slipped out of his vest before freeing himself of his tie and shirt. He ran a hand over his face, an old gold band glinting in the low light on one of his fingers. Changing completely, he secured the robe around him as he returned as the kettle started to whistle. He cut the gas and moved the kettle. He grabbed a mug from a cupboard and prepped some tea. His motions were habitual and he didn’t pay full attention to what he was doing till after he had settled at the small writing desk. It was cluttered with work but he ignored all of it for a clean sheet of letter paper and a pen. He took a careful swallow of tea before he started writing.

March 16th, 1952

I ran another lead dry today. It seems they all are drying up now. The boss thinks it’s been too long but I haven’t lost hope yet. There has to be something that’ll break this case. I just know it.

I walked by that flower shop on 6th. It’s under new management and doing well. The new clerk reminds me a lot of you. You two probably would have gotten along.

I’ll have to buy you a bundle when I pass it again before I visit.

Yours Always

He folded the short missive and tucked it into an envelope. He settled and finished his tea, gaze on the work before him. As soon as the cup was dry he was standing up and putting the used dish in the sink to wash later. He noted the pile of dishes was growing. He returned for the letter before turning the light off and going to his room. Flicking that light off as well, he reached under the bed with practiced ease and wrapped his hand around a shoe box. Opening it, he tucked the letter in, noting the box was getting full. He made a mental note to get another box tomorrow.
“Are you serious?!” He snickered as he ducked behind the decrepit wall, glancing back at the companion currently shouting her head off. “You have to got to be kidding me!!”

“What happened, Anna?” he called out mockingly, not even flinching when a portion of his hiding place was obliterated. “Run out of ammunition?”

“Shut it, Marcus!” she shot back hitting him square in the face with a flip flop. She pointed at him, glaring for all her worth. He was trying very hard not to keel over laughing. “I am not in a good mood to put up with your crap!”

“No, really?” he chimed, charging his gun. “I could have sworn you were in a good mood.”

He ducked the second flip flop as he turned and took aim. Three shots rang out and each hit their target. Downside was that it had drawn everyone’s attention and he had to duck back out of the way.

He was smacked in the face by an arm.

“Will you two behave?” drawled a soft voice to his left. He looked over, rubbing at his forehead. The girl there in pointy hat and star covered cloak had magic swirling around her. She shot him a flat look. “You are drawing unnecessary attention.”

“As long as they don’t let down their guard, they can bicker all they want,” someone near the back countered. He looked to the young woman that was the leader of the small group. She buried her sword in the wall next to his head. She leaned in close, the smoke from her cigarette curling between their faces and brushing against his when she spoke. “Keep me covered and I may consider paying for dinner.”

His eyes brightened. He gave a vicious grin with an equally vicious nod. “You’ve got it.”

The leader yanked out the sword and took off. He rolled out and opened fire, providing cover with the others around him.

They had made it through half the swarm by the time the mage was able to activate the spell. There was a flash, blinding everyone for a few seconds before the light returned to normal. He got up, looking about. Each and every target was taken out. The leader removed her sword from a body, wiping it free of blood.

“Well done, Iris,” the leader called, walking back. “Toris, Pat, status?”

Two bodies landed in the middle of the group, the taller of the pair easily replying, “Compound’s secured. Iris’s spell set up a protective barrier.”

“We’ll be able to chuck bodies out the back,” came the soft reply from the smaller of the pair.

“Good. Get to work.”

He watched the leader walk off as Anna joined him. He looked to her, grinning. “Hey, Anna.” She shot him a glare but didn’t stop him. “Good thing we didn’t fall apart.” He laughed as she punched him in the arm. “Hey, don’t hate on me. I didn’t even lose a limb on this one.“

He ducked the fist aimed for his head but went right into the slap to the back of his head. He grinned at her nonetheless.
“Easy partner,” the younger man urged in a soft voice, neither of their gazes wavering from the creature.

The night air was almost still, the faintest of breezes barely detectable. The moon was a sliver in the sky but they didn’t need its light to see the creature.

Pure white and seeming to glow on its own, the creature drank slowly from the river, hooves not even making a sound on the rocks. The younger man shifted closer to the older, asking breathlessly, “What the hell is it doing all the way out here?”

“I don’t know,” the older man grumbled, his face set into a disapproving glare. “But it ain’t supposed to be this far east. Them mountain critters, not prairie.”

The younger looked to the older, touching his arm. “Hey, Chuck, calm down. Maybe it got lost or something. Don’t most migrate at some point?”

“Yeah, but they ain’t suppose to stray from them herd.”

The younger reached for the rope lying nearby. “Then let’s catch it and lead it home.”

A firm hand covered his wrist. “We ain’t suppose to be messin with things like that.”

The younger gave the older a flat look but there was a soft edge to it. “And if we don’t, someone who would only catch it for its horn will. Stay here, if you’d rather, but I’m going to try and take the poor thing home.”

He slowly stepped out of their cover, ignoring the older’s soft calls to come back. He walked slowly over to the creature, his stance relaxed and the rope hanging in clear view. The creature looked up and over at him but didn’t bolt and he gave a soft sigh of relief. He stopped about two yards away, offering in a soft voice. “Hey, buddy. You shouldn’t be this far from home. I want to take you back before something happens to ya. There are some bad people roaming these parts that would kill you in a heartbeat.”

He tensed as the creature started towards him but remained where he was. It came to a stop before him and sniffed at his hair. He shuddered. With trepidation, he raised his hand and rested his fingers on the creature’s neck. The skin twitched underneath but there was no other reaction. He pressed his hand against the skin, rubbing what he could reach as he smiled at the creature. “There’s a good unicorn.” He dragged his hand to the underside of the unicorn’s muzzle as he shifted the rope to the nook of his elbow. He pressed his hand to the top of the unicorn’s muzzle, keeping his hand away from the horn out of respect. “You gonna be ok if I put the rope around your neck? It’s more of a precaution against humans than binding you.”

The unicorn dipped its head and he tensed. He wanted to duck out of the way but the horn tapped against the top of his head anyways and a shiver ran through his body as several things came to his mind that had not been in his knowledge before. He blinked at the creature before him before nodding. “I can do that.”

He turned and started walking back but he kept his hand on the creature’s shoulder. The older man stood up from where he had been watching but didn’t approach and the unicorn made no move to close the distance.

“I’m gonna take him back,” he stated, looking at the older man. “I’m not gonna ask you to come with.”

The older man, still bewildered, chuckled. “Ain’t wanderin this place without ya. I’ma tag along.”

The younger nodded and moved to the horses. The older man cleaned up camp without the younger actually voicing they were leaving right then and there. The younger busied himself with transferring the saddle and bridle from the horse to the unicorn.

“You sure about this?” he asked softly as he carefully slipped the bridle over the horn. The unicorn nodded, bopping him on the head with its horn. He rubbed at the spot but the information was there. He nodded, not questioning the unicorn’s decision after that. Once everything was packed and his horse set to take a number of the items due to no rider, the unicorn turned and started walking, the younger man on his back and the older man following behind, the younger man’s horse between them. The younger man hoped the unicorn’s idea worked.
“Did you hear that?”

He looked over towards the one that had voiced that, not sure if he had even heard the soft spoken words over the hum of the spaceship. His gaze moved to the other in the room, the one situated directly in front of the hallway that the sound had originated from.

It happened again.

It was still startling to watch the other in the room shift so seamlessly and so quickly into something else. The other was a wolf in less than a heartbeat, paws soft on the grating and ears perked forward, most likely hearing better than himself or the one that had spoke.

There was a scream from down the hallway and, by the sound of it, it was a female screaming in mortal terror. The wolf was already shifting as it took off down the hall, quickly becoming some type of hawk. He followed as quickly as he could, the only other in the room following suit.

When they arrived, the hawk was once again a man. He was standing with four other people as another was joining them. He crossed over to the shifter, demanding, “Ophir?”

The shifter shook his head. “There was nothing here and it didn’t occur again for me to follow it.”

One of the people there turned their gaze to him. “Rush, any chance that was something that wasn’t one of the crew.”

He shook his head, his gaze flickering towards the shifter. Ophir shook his head minutely. “No,” he replied, his Scottish accent laying in a tad thick. We would know.”

“Probably,” the other from the room commented, gaining everyone’s attention. The young man shrank back, shrugging. “I mean, in actuality–”

“Eli is right,” Ophir cut in. “Most likely than not, it was one of the crew but there is a chance that something got in here without our knowledge.”

“Let’s hope not,” he muttered. The man that had questioned him glanced towards him. He must have heard his comment.

“Is there a way to lock the ship down and monitor any movement?” the man asked, gaze fully on Ophir.

Ophir glanced at Rush but it was clear that the younger man had only done that out of a habit as he sorted out his thoughts. Rush time and time again always gave into the fact that Ophir knew more about the starship than he did, no matter how much it pained him to acknowledge that.

“I know I can lock the ship down but I don’t know about monitoring movement. I would need five hours.”

“You have two,” the man stated, turning to Rush. “Help him with anything he needed.”

Rush suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course.”

“Eli,” the man stated to the young man. Said young man jumped slightly at the sudden attention. “Stay out of their way and do as they have you do. If they don’t have anything for you to do, stay close.”

Eli quickly nodded. Ophir shifted his weight. “We done, Colonel?” he asked as politely as he could. Rush understood that. With a time limit that short and what they may or may not have on board was making for a very short amount of time to create a solution.

There was another scream and they all tensed. Again Ophir was a wolf before anyone could register he had shifted. As the echoes of the scream died down, the Colonel looked at Ophir. The wolf shook its head before it became a young man again. “There was too much reverb. I wasn’t able to narrow it down.”

The Colonel nodded. “Get to work. Keep your walkies charged and on Channel 3. Deal with the radio traffic.”

There was a collective nod from the three of them before they turned and took off down the hallway.

Ophir was first to his seat, quickly followed by Eli. Rush was the last, having been the oldest out of the three of them by several decades and not at all in any shape to be running. Still, Rush found that Ophir had already displayed things at the terminal Rush was working on and Rush merely settled down to work through it. Ophir must have done the same for Eli because it hadn’t been 5 minutes before Rush realized that Eli was being surprisingly quiet. Sure enough, a glance over revealed that the math wiz was frowning intently at his screen.

There was a hiss and Rush jumped, looking back. Doors he didn’t even know existed were sliding shut over the hallway behind him. He felt more protected and more vulnerable at the same time. Returning his gaze to his screen, he navigated through till he had what he wanted. He didn’t even look at Ophir as he asked, “Did you just happen to find this?”

“Surprisingly,” Ophir, typing away as he did something. “It had been a discovery a couple weeks back. I couldn’t index it at the time nor was it indexed in a way I could understand so it look me longer than I would have liked to have been able to lock the ship down.”

Rush returned his gaze to his computer. “And the movement algorithm?”

“Almost done,” Eli piped in, his face still scrunched in concentration. “Just a few more minutes.”

Rush turned his gaze towards Ophir. “What is the plan, then?”

Ophir shrugged. “Depends on what we’re up against.” He reached out and turned off his walkie talkie. He gave Rush a pointed look and the older scientist did the same. There was a brief tap of buttons and the entire core went dark excluding a few lights to allow them to see. “There were two voices during the second scream. One from the left and one from the right. Unique but similar enough to blend well to the human ear. Whatever we’re dealing with isn’t one of the crew and I fear for what it may actually be.”
He came to in a body that would no longer work properly and he hated it. He hated every morning he had to get up in a body that could not function without assistance and he hated the fact that Bruce was forced to take care of him. He knew that Bruce didn’t care, that Bruce was more than happy to help him. Heck, the man had married him after he had started being unable to walk and he had wanted to punch Bruce in the face for doing such a thing but he couldn’t. Bruce loved him and for as much as he resented himself and what the world had dealt him, he loved Bruce and wouldn’t trade anything to change what he had.

He rolled over, though even that was becoming difficult. Bruce woke at the movement, blue eyes blinking away sleep in a way that made him wish he could do that with his disease. Bruce gave his a soft smile, eyes seemingly forever kind and compassionate, never pitying. Bruce reached out, running fingers through his most likely oily hair. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he muttered back, wanting to cringe at how crackly his voice was.

Bruce didn’t comment as he helped him get propped up against the pillows. Reaching over for the glass on the nightstand, Bruce helped him drink some water, soothing the rawness in his throat. Bruce set the glass aside, asking, “Ready for today?”

He gave Bruce a glare but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “You know the answer to that. Hasn’t changed from yesterday.”

Bruce rolled his eyes but the smirk on his face showed his pleasure at the humor. “Yes, but yesterday was not today. Today, you and I are going on a date.”

He chuckled. “Bruce, we’re already married. We don’t have to go on dates anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Bruce commented as he got out of his side of the bed. “I am going on every date I can with you because life is fleeting and because I want to.”

He watched Bruce prep the wheelchair, knowing full well that Bruce was not doing this because of the illness. Bruce was actually rather selfish about the matter and wanted as much time he could get out of him. That was one of the reasons why he had said yes to Bruce. Bruce was spending time with him and tending him because Bruce wanted to. Bruce wanted to have all the time he could get out of him because Bruce was in love and believed that is what you do with loved ones with an unknown death date hanging over their head.

“Bathroom first or breakfast?” Bruce asked, cutting through his thinking.

“Breakfast,” he replied. Bruce yanked back the covers. He made a face and changed his mind. “Actually, bathroom. I reek.”

Bruce sniffed a pit and made a face. “Same.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. Bruce seemed to always know when his mind went somewhere it probably shouldn’t, specifically to his own mortality and Bruce’s love and loyalty to him. There was a warm hand suddenly on his cheek as Bruce directed his gaze back to himself.

“Hey, we really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he offered, gaze full of nothing but honest concern. “Netflix is an amazing thing. We’re still binging Once, after all.”

Touched at the thought, he shook his head, stating, “I’m looking forward to the date. Just, don’t feel up to much else.”

Bruce nodded and slipped his arms under his knees and behind his shoulder blades. “Then let’s get the bath taken care of first. A good soak will help.”

Bruce was infinitely strong. No matter the years that seem to pass, Bruce is still able to pick him up without strain and carry him anywhere.

A small part of him prayed that Bruce never got tired of him.

There was a ringing in his ear and he found himself coming to on what looked like a sidewalk. His head hurt and his brain was foggy. He was pretty certain that he was missing what had happened when the last thing he was remembering was going towards a bath. Was it still the same day? Had he and Bruce just left their home?

It was clear there had been a major accident. He could see the numerous cars damaged by whatever had happened.

He was exhausted. But he had to find Bruce. He had to find his husband.

He didn’t have to look hard. Bruce was within reach near his head. All he had to do was move his arm. But there was no way and it was getting harder and harder to stay awake.

He woke again, though a part of him was rather saddened at that. Confusion rushed through him as he realized that what he was seeing was not a hospital room and it swiftly changed into panic. But someone was there, someone was talking, and a part of him was very startled to see Bruce standing beside him, voice low and soft and gaze forever kind but there was something wrong, something off.

He jerked away from Bruce as the man reached towards him. But the motion was followed by more than just what he had gotten used to reacting with and he found – to his utter amazement – his fist catching Bruce in the chin, the momentum throwing him off the bed. Legs and arms worked and he shoved himself back, staring at appendages that should not be working so well that appeared so healthy and young.

He tensed, looking to Bruce. Bruce was younger, almost the same age the first time they had met. As panic settled in his chest again and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, this wrong-Bruce stepped slowly forward, uttering in his low voice, “Easy, Michael. You’ve been in a coma. What you’ve just lived through was just a dream.”

He choked. “….What?”
The actress on stage shouted some line as the power went out and every phone in the place lit up, all giving that same tone that many were familiar with. But those that had turned off the amber or weather alerts were confused that their phones were going off as well. Even the actors on stage were confused as a stagehand came out to tell them to hang tight with a flash light.

It was about the time the stagehand was leaving that an uproar broke out in the audience. There was mass confusion and a mad shuffle. There was a sound, high and loud, that made the entire audience flinch. A voice quickly followed the noise.

”Ladies and gentlemen, cast and crew, may I have your attention please. This is the Stage Manager speaking. Can I have all audience members returning to their seats and all cast and crew to make their way onto the stage.”

A murmur rolled through the audience as ushers worked to secure the exits as actors and crew appeared on stage. A few crew moved about to help ushers. The stage manager stepped out of the booth and crossed to center stage, a microphone in hand. They stood before the audience and gave them a grave look. “Everyone, please remain calm. The announcement we all received is true.” There was a flurry of voices and activity but the stage manager took a step forward and bellowed out in a stern voice that had cast and crew instinctively cringe in fear, “Please remain seated and calm.” The audience quieted down and people returned to their seats. The cast and crew were starting to sit anywhere they could on stage, the majority taking the floor. Some of the crew were stepping off stage to be aisle monitors with the ushers. “I have been asked to keep all here within the confines of the theatre due to it being far safer than allowing you all to attempt to traverse the chaos outside those doors.” There was a heavy silence as the stage manager lost their momentum briefly. Taking a deep breath, they continued, “The wifi is still up if you need it so please contact loved ones. Please be aware that a lot of people are going to be using the internet and cell towers so you may not be able to make it through. We will do our best to help you feel comfortable in what time remains.”

The microphone was turned off and chaos ensued. Thankfully, the audience listened to the stage manager and remained seated but people started crying, shouting, arguing, and just plain talking. The noise level got pretty high but no one cared. The stage manager gave the cast and crew 15 minutes before they were expected back in the theatre with their things and helping to keep the audience contained so that those in the house as well as ushers could have a chance to grab their things and gather in the theatre.

When everyone was once more consolidated in the single space, the stage manager took center stage with more information.

“I have some more information,” they spoke over the noise into the microphone. The crowd quieted. “They don’t know how or why, but the amount of time that they had anticipated has diminished drastically. We are now looking at a maximum of 4 hours. They are asking people not to travel and we’re going to enforce that. We will, however, be doing bathroom runs now in groups of five with chaperones from the cast and crew. Please be respectful and heed their words. They are getting their information from me directly through headset so if we need people to come back, then we can alert you quickly and safely. Thank you.”

The microphone was turned off for the last time and people began to come to terms with the fact that this was it. There was nothing more that could be done. Sure enough, four hours later and with very little information, there was a noise outside the theatre and a hush fell over the room. People pushed together, scared but prepared.

The doors burst open and a good number of people screamed as there was a mad scramble to flee but no one got anywhere fast. By the time silence had fallen, each and every living being was dead.
She flinched away from the crowd. She noticed she hadn’t been the only one to flinch. Her companions had as well and the male was not looking pleased. She reached out to him and he offered her a tight smile as he gave her hand a brief squeeze.

The crowd was going nuts but it was clear many were forgetting the rules in place. She forego the crowd with her companions and started for the end of the walkway. Security swarmed past them in the opposite direction. There was the sound of a megaphone activating behind them but the announcement was cut off as the door closed behind them.

It seemed liked a curse. As soon as the door clicked shut, they were assaulted by light. She kicked back into her male companion, their other companion pressing close. Her male companion wrapped his arms around them both but he was in a worse state than they were. There was an altercation as people rushed forward to shelter them. One of the older men that had rushed forward placed himself directly in front of her, his expression full of concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, others closing up the gaps to shelter them. She shuddered but nodded, glancing at her companions. Her gaze settled on her male companion as she verbally replied. “I’m ok. But we need a quiet, secluded room. I don’t think he can last much longer.”

The entire group around them seemed to come to a non-verbal agreement in an instant and hands reached out but paused before touching. She smiled softly, appreciating the forethought by those around them. The older man that had spoken is the one to ask, “Is it alright if we touch you?”

She reached out to take the older man’s hand, watching as her female companion did the same, but they both looked at their male companion. He had his head down, his hands gripping whatever fabric was against their lower backs. She met the older man’s gaze, offering, “Don’t touch him. We’ve got him.”

Some of the hands pulled back as the older man nodded and placed himself at her side, careful not to touch her male companion as he wrapped an arm around her. One of his fellows did the same for her female companion and the rest created a sort of protective barrier around them.

The walk was short but it was appreciated as the mass of the group chatted as if there was nothing wrong, joking and commenting on mundane things not connected to the panic. By the time they reached the room, her male companion was brokenly conversing with someone walking beside him.

The room was vast and sparsely furnished. She realized it was one of the main halls that was being unused. That much space being empty with no one there beyond her, her two companions, and their entourage was surprisingly soothing. Her male companion even released his hold on them and she watched as he stepped passed them towards the furniture at the far end of the hall. The older man stepped away, removing his touch as his counter did the same to her female companion. She smiled appreciatively to the older man before following her two companions.

Her male companion flopped into one of the chairs before their female companion settled in his lap, curling against his chest. She, in turn, merely grabbed another chair and spun it around so that she was sitting backwards in it. The older man did the same across from her as the others either grabbed a chair, a piece of the floor, or just stood about.

“So you three are the reason for the ‘No Flash Photography’ rule?” asked one of the men that had been leading the group and keeping conversation light with bad puns and getting reamed by the others. In point, a forgettable man in a simple suit smacked him upside the head. He merely grinned up at the man with a grin.

She nodded, answering with a shrug, “Trauma just doesn’t go away overnight.”

She watched her companions out of the corner of her eye curl closer to each other. She couldn’t blame them.
She reached blindly for anything to grab as her legs went out from under her. Hands reached for her and she flinched away. This caused her to lose her hold on whatever had been keeping her upright and she felt her knees collide with the ground as her other palm scraped against the hard surface. More hands, more trying to get away.

She recoiled from those that had gathered, catching sight of a figure parting the crowd, suddenly opening up space around her. She blinked, her vision clearing and focusing on blue eyes that were all too familiar. She reached out to him but her hands were shaking. He intertwined their fingers and pressed his forehead against hers. She grasped at his shirt with her free hand, pulling them together. His other arm wrapped around her and held her close. She closed her eyes, leaning into him and allowing him to support her as he had done for so many years.

She could feel through where his forehead was pressed against hers the vibrations from him talking. To whom, she didn’t know.

When she opened them again, he hadn’t moved. He was watching her and pulled back enough to give her a soft smile, one that spoke a thousand words. He released her hand to run his fingers through her hair, his other hand slipping out from behind her to flicker in her line of sight. She leaned into his touch, watching him sign in their invented sign language. He told her of all who was there, of what had happened. He talked and talked, soothing her there on the hospital room floor with a hand in her hair in a veiled way of keeping her gaze from roaming around the room.

He talked of the day she had fallen into her coma, how he had been impressed with how much she had been able to shift with that horrid chemical in her system, how her companion had suffered no major injuries as she had taken the brunt of the landing. He went on to tell her how they kicked the bad guy’s butts with a flourish, gaining a soft smile out of her. He beamed, going on and exaggerating the final battle as they waited for the medevac.

His expression turned somber as he spoke of those first 24 hours at the hospital. She was in the OR for 18 hours as they did what they could for the numerous injuries she had sustained. His calm mask cracked when he informed her she had coded twice. She pressed a bit more into his hand to reassure him, her hands pressing against his thighs.

He signed that he was so grateful for what they were.

She couldn’t help but agree.

His expression turned bitter. He commented on how everything just seemed to get worse after that. It was bad enough she had been declared in a coma a few days later, it seemed like the universe was against them. She had coded twice in one day and another time two days later. Her liver failed due to the chemical’s damage. She had nearly asphyxiated on blood when a blood vessel ruptured in her right lung – the same lung that had been punctured at the top of the whole mess that also collapsed three days after the asphyxiation scare. Finally, after the chemical had been completely flushed out, the damage started to repair itself and she had woken up whole and ok.

His expression fell. Well, as whole as she could be with the given circumstances. He rubbed her ear gently, gesturing in question ‘You doing ok?’

She shook her head, pressing into her twin’s chest once more. It took a bit of maneuvering but eventually he was propped back up against something and she was curled up in his lap. The others still in the room were on the edge of her awareness as she settled against her nearly identical twin’s chest, feeling the vibration of his voice as he spoke to someone over her head.

‘What’s wrong?’ he signed patiently, encouragingly, as he turned his full focus back onto her.

She shifted enough to sign in return with shaking fingers, ‘The silence is thunderous.’
One. Two. Three. Four.
They counted because there was nothing more for them to do.
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.
They started small because that was all they knew.
Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two.
Slowly but surely their numbers grew larger and slowly but surely their mind got stronger.
Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty. Fifty-one.
They wondered how many they would count before one chose them.
Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five. Sixty-six.
Would they be alone with ridiculously large numbers?
Seventy-five. Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. Seventy-eight.
They could make neither heads nor tails of the thought.
Eighty-nine. Ninety. Ninety-one. Ninety-two.
Maybe they’ll start over.
Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.
It was late. So late in fact that the clock had rolled over into the new day, turning “late” into “early”. He glared at the offensive device that was seeming to mock him with the new hour. He knew he should have gone to bed hours ago but he had been feeling as if the day just wasn’t long enough.

That, or he was being left behind by time.

That was a scary thought, one that he tried to avoid. He didn’t like being left behind in general and all of the sudden time was leaving him behind too?! He stomped on the thought and focused on the task at hand, glancing at the word count as he went.

He was going to regret this come his alarm going off.

He would probably be fine once it passed three.

Exhaustion pulled at his eyes, making it hard for him to focus on the screen before him. There was a reason why the clock was mocking him with the time. He hadn’t been sleeping well the last few days - heck, could even be weeks for all he could remember - and it was catching up on him. He had tried quite a lot in an attempt to not be quite as exhausted but the one thing that would benefit him the most would be actually waking up later in the day. Work didn’t start till the afternoon but a part of him still insisted waking up at 7. How could he not? The shift he worked make him feel unproductive with the rest of his day. He had a hard time doing anything when he got home and that included eating and he was already bad at making sure he kept himself fed.

He groaned, dropping his fingers from the keyboard. He lulled his head to the side, looking at the clock again. It seemed, at least, that at night time only got away from him when he was busy. Pity, really, because he seemed to be constantly busy. So much to do in so little time.

He straightened and rubbed a hand over his eyes, determination settling over his tired expression. He could do this. He just had to finish this one small thing and then he could go to bed. It wouldn’t be much sleep but it would be enough.

He would still be exhausted.

Maybe he could catch up on sleep on Friday seeing as it was his day off.

Yeah, he had intended that for the previous Saturday and look where that had gotten him. Working well into the wee hours of the morning.
It was simple in design. The black paint started at a point near the center top, expanding as it came down the left side to encompass the eye before condensing back to a point near the center bottom. Around the other eye was a circle of black, large enough to mask the ridge of the cheek and eyebrow. The mouth was made to look like an unnatural grin coming to points rather than soft curves. In it’s simplicity it was meant to be disconcerting and creepy.

It was.

No matter who wore it or possessed it, they were always known as Fate; they were a branch of an entity most mortals cannot understand. The complexity of just the role of Fate was too much for many, leaving so few to retain the mask and the role.

There were a select few that never got that choice.

She was one of them.

With a sigh, she pulled the mask over her face, catching the phantom of Fate out of the corner of her eye as she did so.

“You do realize that the mask is now officially pointless,” he pointed out, his voice sounding slightly echoy in her head.

She shrugged, returning with, “It helps put his mind at ease.”

Fate hummed in acknowledgement as she donned the attire connected with Fate. As blatantly of a lie as it was, Fate had to agree that it was easier when the parental units and any others they were working with distanced her from him. They tended to not be quite so hesitant nor so worried.

She stepped out of the room, gaining everyone’s attention.

Even after so long exposed to the mask, many shrank away from the sight of it. The frozen grin hid her expression and it made it easy to appear to be watching one thing while truly watching another. Additionally, it had come to be an enjoyment of theirs to freak people out just by turning the mask towards them without any other indicator they are paying attention. The way they bristle is hilarious. What made it even funnier was that many equated the paint on the mask to represent the yin-yang symbol.

They both believed it was more like a target than anything else.

The explosion rocked the room, sending debris and bodies everywhere. She moved forward, away from those that she cared about, and the attacker’s attention was on her masked face in an instant. She dodged one attack, then another. Sometimes those that came after them had been broken in some aspect and were blaming the mask for their problems.

The scariest were those that saw going up against the mask of Fate to be a challenge.
Kepler shuddered, curling farther in on himself as the sounds of his pursuers dissipated. He had never asked for this.

He nearly jumped out of his clothing when a hand touched his arm. “Kepler.”

The small skeleton tensed, frightened and ready to run. Squatting before him was his dad with an expression full of concern.

“Easy, baby bones,” his dad spoke softly, his gruff, deep voice an octave lower. It was soothing and familiar. “It’s just me.”

“W-why are you here?” he asked, stuttering over his words in his fright. This time he didn’t flinch away when his dad touched him and the rounder skeleton quickly pulled him into a tight hug. There was the sense of the world dropping out from under them briefly before they were in the living room. Kepler sagged against his dad.

“Your teacher overheard the commotion and called.” The air got thick. “Kep, I need to look you over.”

Kepler shook his head. His dad leaned back, magic breaking Kepler’s grip with the utmost gentleness.

“Please, Kep. For my peace of mind.”

Kepler curled in on himself, knowing that if he took the clothing off his torso, his dad would get mad.But his dad’s hands were soft and coaxing and before Kepler knew it, he was sitting in the living room topless. His ribs were as they always were; a giant birth defect left parts of his rib cage unformed, leaving an opening that went from the upper right to the lower left over where his purple soul resided visible at the center. Kepler watched his dad’s attention go to the markings on his son’s bones.

Kepler shuddered. While skeletons didn’t bruise, there were still hairline fractures and chipped and scuffed bones. Kepler couldn’t help wrapping his arms around himself, trying and failing to hide the worst of the evidence.

“Kepler.” He flinched at his dad’s voice. He glanced up at his dad, wary. His dad was texting quickly before pocketing the phone. “How did this happen?”

Kepler shook his head. A door upstairs opened and closed.

“Kepler, please.”

Kepler curled tighter into himself before he felt his uncle’s healing magic curling around him. Kepler relaxed, noting that his uncle’s appearance explained the text. Comforted by having his uncle there as silent support, Kepler offered, “I never asked to be cursed like this, unable to do the things they do and treated differently because of it.”

His dad’s expression turned sad and Kepler almost took back his words. Almost. His dad and uncle had tried saving his life when he was born but it had left Kepler with several birth defects. The teachers had no choice but to accommodate Kepler; a skeleton that was unable to wield magic beyond what held him together, blind in the right eye, and fragile. But calling it all a curse was something that hit a little too close to home for his dad, even if this was only the second time he had called it all a curse.
He was standing on stage singing a lame karaoke song his coworkers had picked. It was surprisingly fitting as he sung it for the dark haired man sitting alone near their table. Those blue eyes held his own gaze for the entire song and he ignored the catcalls and chatter when he walked passed his table to talk with the blue eyed stranger.

He finds himself going on a date with the blue eyed stranger a week later after they end up chatting through karaoke night. He finds out the man’s filthy rich and is the owner of the building he and his coworkers are constructing. He finds that he doesn’t care.

Somewhere along the way, six months pass without him being aware of it. He and the blue eyed man are hanging out as regularly as their schedules permit. He gets a phone call that sends ice through his veins and he rushes to the hospital. The blue eyed man is there and all he can do is wrap the other man up in his arms and hold on tight as they wait for news. It’s not good and he’s silently impressed when the blue eyed man doesn’t break down till they’re in the blue eyed man’s car.

They fought the following day. The blue eyed man broke it off.

He didn’t see the blue eyed man for two months.

They run into each other out of happenstance and he finds it easy to break the ice between them, getting the blue eyed man to laugh and smile.

They go out the following evening and agree to start dating again. Three months later, he moves in.

Somehow a year and a half passes and he’s finding it really hard to hide his growing symptoms from his lover. The stress of the symptoms and his looming death date that he had been trying to hide from his lover were causing him to be short.

His lover confronts him about it.

He doesn’t remember the words he had said but he knew they had been blows beneath the belt.

He went to a hotel for a week.

His lover took him on a surprise trip when he returned and they had the conversation he had been dreading with ease.

He said yes when his lover proposed three months later.

He woke up in a body that no longer worked as it once had five years later. His husband was there, always caring and ready to help him. He loved his husband and felt it was inadequate to how much his husband loved him.

He died that day in a freak accident with his husband. But, yet, he woke up in a space he didn’t recognize and a body that reacted in a way he had forgotten was possible. He found himself pressed up against a cabinet as he tried to grasp the fact that his husband was a blue eyed stranger ten years younger and without the memories he now had.

[ArtisticVicu]

December 2016
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

The gravel crunched underneath as he sat down heavily. Groaning at the movement, he grabbed at the wound on his side, hissing at the pain it caused. He didn’t let up the pressure but he did relax, leaning his head back against the stone wall behind him.

He chuckled weakly. “It’s funny,” he commented, eyes half lidded. “I always thought we would make it farther than this.”

He closed his eyes as a breeze washed over him, pulling at his hair, at his face, as gently as it did the trees above him. He opened his eyes, taking in the glimpses of blue sky beyond. “Guess I was wrong.”

His expression turned sad, mournful even, as he settled more into the wall. “But, hey, least we made it this far, right, brother?”

He glanced over at the prone shape beside him in a worse condition than he was. There wasn’t much sign of life but he could tell that his brother was still there, still alive, if just barely.

He turned his gaze skyward again.

The wind rustled through the leaves again and he closed his eyes. The sound of the nature around them was soothing after such a hard trek, after such a hard moment in their life that he relished the peace.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun was setting and the sky had gone from a vibrant blue to a darkening orange. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I remember mom telling us about a legend,” he commented offhandedly, gaze still skyward. “The one about the phoenix and how it could be reborn after it burst into ashes. How life was just like the cycle of the phoenix. From the moment your born, it’s nothing but movement and information. Smoldering determination and white hot emotions. Life just throws everything it has at you to see if you’ll rise from the ashes or go down in a burning ball of misery.”

A bird passed overhead, chirping happily. “I remember thinking I understood that legend when we had followed dad’s footsteps. Life was suddenly alight with passion. Every day was high paced, ending like a candle does when the sun went down. Then mom died and I believed I had come to understand the legend that much more. Suddenly the emotions were too much to bear. I couldn’t take it. I was so over stimulated by them all that I became numb. Numb until, suddenly, determination was lighting my way again. And suddenly the emotions I felt were burning hot and fueled my motivation. Our motivation.”

The sun reached a point in its descent that rays of light cut through the trees, illuminating all the particles in the air and illustrating just where the leaves fell in the beams of light. He watched as the beams, one by one, faded as the sun continued to set.

“I thought that the legend we were chasing had no similarities to the phoenix,” he confessed. “I saw no need to try and compare the two. A phoenix is a myth. There was no bird that could die in flames only to be reborn from the ashes. But then we saw things.” Memories flashed through his mind’s eye, things he wished he had never seen, never heard. But with those memories, those choices, had come people they cared about and who cared about them and his expression softened. He couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. “We saw things that no human should have ever witnessed. We saw things that would have broken others, would have destroyed others. But they didn’t destroy us. Somehow, through all of this, we never turned to ash and stayed ash. We were reborn. Over and over again. We got back up, dusted ourselves off, and kept moving. We kept chasing a legend.”

The sun’s last rays dissipated as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. The first stars were already making their appearances through the leaves. “We kept moving, kept going. Kept trying. But no matter how far we got, how hard we ran, that legend remained out of reach, out of touch.”

The pressure on his wound dissipated as his arm gave out. He paid it no mind as he closed his eyes, face still pointed skyward. “We discovered horrible truths about that legend and yet we still kept running after it, trying rid ourselves of the information with believing that, once we had captured it, we’d be fine.”

He opened his eyes and a tear raced down his cheek, another going with it shortly thereafter. “I don’t think mom told us the full legend about the phoenix, brother. I think she was trying to protect us from the truth.”

He closed his eyes again, another tear falling. “Of how the phoenix’s cycle eventually comes to an end, how it doesn’t last forever. That, once the phoenix has used up all of its energy to reform, it will turn to ashes and never rise again.”

He found it much harder to open his eyes this time. The wind pulled at his wet cheeks, the air colder than it had been with the sun up. “I think she didn’t want us to go on living with the belief that, at some point, we would wear ourselves out and lose the ability to get back up again, to keep moving. That life loses its spark after living it for too long.”

He chuckled weakly. “Funny how chasing one legend can lead to the understanding of another.”

He closed his eyes with the intent of keeping them closed this time. He was so tired. “I’m sorry, Alphonse. I tried. I tried so hard to keep my promise to you and I’ve broken it.” The tears came faster but there were no sobs. Just breathless words. “I want to keep it but I don’t think I can get up after this one, brother. I don’t think we can bounce back after this.”

“It’s alright, brother,” came the soft, weak voice from the form beside him. “I’m tired too.”

He forced his eyes open one last time. He smiled, but it felt off. “Think we’ll see mom again?”

“Yeah,” came the breathy reply. “Yeah, I do.”
“I thought cities were supposed to be bustling, not unsettling ghost towns.”

Angel glanced back at Kyle, full-heartedly agreeing with him. The city was massive yet there was a scattering of people that they’d come as they followed their guide. Said guide looked back at them, smiling softly like he always did. “That is because it is a Holy Day.”

“Holy day?” she asked, frowning. “You’re entire city follows one religion?”

Their guide nodded. “The majority do. Those that do not still respect the rules of Holy Days. After all, there are only so many Holy Days in a year.”

Dean perked up, intrigued like always at new information. Angel, for her part, felt uneasy about getting behind his enthusiasm. Dean quickly asked, “How many Holy Days are there? Are they like the holidays on Earth or the Sabbath of many religions?”

Their guide tapped his chin, thoughtful. “I do not fully know the cultures on Earth. The teaching on it – especially in this country – are very few and far between with lacking information at best. Unless you end up in a position that requires that knowledge but very few positions call for it.”

“But you are one of those selected to be given that knowledge,” Angel pointed out, her distrust coloring her tone.

Their guide sighed, giving her a look that contrasted greatly with what they normally received from him. “Yes, I am, but it was not by my choice.” His eyes darkened. “I chose my profession to avoid the position. Yet it only placed me more firmly into the position they wanted me to be in.” He looked around, his expression becoming flat. “I am glad it is a Holy Day. Not many will take notice of us and far fewer will overhear our conversations out in public.”

Angel muttered a curse under her breath. He was right. They were being careless and she needed to treat this with the severity it already has.

“Will we stand out terribly if we hunt for a more secure location?” Kyle asked, keeping his voice down.

Their guide shook his head. “No. While Holy Days are spent at home and behind closed windows, there are some jobs that are specific to Holy Days. Walking through the city will not be strange.” He frowned slightly. “Though the group size may draw attention, it would only be for a moment. I doubt anyone would pay us that much attention.”

“Which means we’ve already been spotted and tracked,” Kyle muttered, crossing his arms. “Great.”

Angel placed a hand on his arm, placating him as she looked to their guide. “Nikolaos, is there a place we can rendezvous at or should we just go straight to our destination as is? We may be putting a number of people in danger by just traipsing through the city like we are.”

“Like ourselves,” Kyle growled only loud enough for Angel to hear.

She ignored it.

Nikolaos shook his head. “Just going straight through would be best.” He turned and started walking again, the group following suit. “Where we are heading would not seem out of the ordinary for groups this size to be going to on a Holy Day, especially not for foreigners.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “How obvious is it we’re not from this country?”

Nikolaos gave that soft smile of his. “Very. Don’t worry. That’ll be fixed with time.”

Silence fell over the group as they made their way through the city. Sure enough, Angel caught sight of civilians working in some form or fashion, the majority of the jobs focused around cleaning the city.

“It’s interesting what their ideals are, isn’t it?” Angel looked over to Dean, his brown eyes knowing behind his glasses. He kept his voice low, allowing for only her and Kyle to overhear. “For them, having a clean city is important. But not just free of trash and possibly some natural imperfections like dust, dirt, and fallen leaves. Each bit of structure, whether it’s the street or the house, is being washed. Even when it will most likely become dirty within the next 2 hours, they still make sure everything is pristine. They care a lot about appearances. Makes you wonder what they’re trying to hide.”

Angel looked over one of the store fronts they were passing – actually looked at it and noted how everything was very controlled and very pristine. She suddenly felt distrust for the city around her, taking Dean’s words to heart. She had noticed each thing he had voiced, had even briefly thought about it herself, but having another confirm her suspicions as brief they were only made her furious at herself. She needed to quit with the self doubt. Even if her plans to become a lawyer were shot at this point, her skills and intuition were still as sharp as ever and she needed to keep them that way.

Dean and Kyle fell into a conversation about some random thing. Angel let the two brothers be, turning her attention onto the other two in their group. She touched Kat’s arm, asking them both softly, “How are you two doing?”

“I’m doing fine,” Kat offered easily before looking to Gezabelle. “Geza?”

Gezabelle offered a weak smile and an even weaker, “I’m fine.”

Kat wrapped an arm around the smaller young woman’s shoulders as Angel sighed. It was amazing how different the two youngest of their group behaved. Dean was taking this all in stride while Gezabelle seemed to be come apart at the seams. But, then again, it had been her brother that had left, and not Dean’s. Aaron was Gezabelle’s protector. Even now she looked to him for guidance but, now that he wasn’t here, Gezabelle seemed lost and it was all any of them could do to help her keep moving.

“We’ll get him back,” Angel spoke, her voice low but serious. Gezabelle looked up at her with surprise, fear, and a small spark of hope. Angel offered her a soft smile. “I promise.”
The glass clattered against the counter sharply but Marcus didn’t overly care much. He rubbed at his face as Derek settled beside him at the kitchen island.

“So this is where you ran off to. Though you were avoiding the party.”

Marcus chuckled. “No, not avoiding the party. Avoiding the small talk that comes with said party.”

Silence settled over the pair of them and, for once, neither strove to break it.

“This has been one hell of a month,” Derek finally uttered, rolling his own glass against the counter.

Marcus snorted. “No kidding. First your accident–”

“Then the natural disasters–”

“Followed by the sudden war–”

“On top of the invasion–”

Marcus gave a bitter laugh. “Who would have figured that all we had known would blow up in our face in less than 30 days?”

Derek didn’t join in his dry humor. Marcus downed his drink.

“Think we’ll make it out of this alive?” Derek asked softly.

“How can we not?” Marcus muttered darkly. “We have people relying on us. We cannot let them down.”

Derek gave him a pleading look. “But how are we supposed to cope? All of this in less than 30 days and they’re requiring us to give up what we know for something out of a science-fiction novel? Marcus, I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Marcus placed a heavy hand on Derek’s shoulder, his gaze hard. “Derek, do you know what Zoe is doing?” Derek shook his head. “She’s taking this in stride. She’s working hard to make sure that her friends and family won’t be left behind. She’s trying her darndest to make it through to become a liaison between us and them because she believes she can protect all of us.”

“Zoe?” Derek asked in disbelief. “Our kid sister?”

“Our kid sister who is only two years younger than you,” Marcus reminded him. “And yes, Zoe. She’s doing everything she can to help us all and what are her two older brothers doing? Getting wasted at a New Year’s party.”

“She isn’t here?”

Marcus sighed. “I haven’t seen her but that doesn’t mean anything. The entire family is here for whatever reason, meaning there’s almost 100 people in this godforsaken house with all the cousins and kids and grandkids and grandparents.” Marcus groaned. “When did we all get so old?”

“About two years ago after you turned 27,” Derek chuckled. Derek raised his glass as if to drink but he lowered it, asking, “Is your girlfriend here?”

“We broke up about a week ago.”

Derek gave him a blank look. “Seriously?”

Marcus shrugged. “Our relationship was already strained. I’m not surprised it finally snapped after all that’s happened.”

Derek shook his head. “Man. And I thought you two were going to get hitched.”

Marcus chuckled. “Dude, we had only been dating for four months.”

Derek gave him a wide eyed look. “What, seriously? I thought it had been four years!”

Marcus shook his head. “That was Samantha.”

“I liked her.”

Marcus sighed heavily as he refilled his glass, muttering, “So did I.” He threw back the drink before refilling his glass. Derek took the bottle from him to refill his own glass. “I had a ring and everything but she was suddenly gone with only a note that said, ‘I’m sorry’ and every item she had ever owned gone from my house.”

Derek threw back his own refilled glass. “That’s harsh.”

“Very.”

Silence settled as chatter and laughter spilled in from the other room, the sound of children squealing and playing adding an upbeat undertone. Derek looked to his older brother, a sad smile on his face. “Can you believe we’re the oldest out of our cousins to not have kids yet? Paul is expecting his first kid and he just graduated from high school back in May.”

“When did he get hitched?” Marcus asked in disbelief.

“Some time in November. High school sweetheart or something sappy like that.” A goofy grin settled over Derek’s face. “She’s sweet but not much in the attic. Fits him perfectly.”

Marcus shook his head. “Sad when our kid cousins are having kids before us.”

“No kidding.”

The two men turned, looking at the figure standing in the doorway. The pair stood up but the young woman shook her head, smiling. “Sit back down, you two. I just came to see if you drank all the booze yet.”

“Not yet,” Derek assured as Marcus reached out and pulled her close. Her arms wrapped around his neck briefly before she reached over and dragged Derek into the embrace. There was the sound of a familiar song playing in the other room.

“Already almost midnight?” Marcus asked, frowning as he glanced at the nearest clock.

She nodded. “About five minutes out.” Her grip on the two men tightened.

Derek had settled completely against her side, his head happily resting against hers even though his expression was just as sad as hers was. Marcus, not being the overly affectionate type, merely kept his arm around her, his other hand finding the back of Derek’s head and rubbing at the short hair there, a gesture of comfort for both of them.

“We’re going to be alright, right Zoe?” Derek asked in a soft voice.

Zoe seemed to curl in on herself even though she didn’t physically move. “I don’t know.” Marcus’s hand stilled on Derek’s neck. “I hope so but I just don’t know for sure. The majority of the nations are all up in arms even though there has been nothing but peace between us and the invaders.” She pulled back enough to look at the analog clock in the kitchen. “That’s why, come the new year, those that have agreed to go along peacefully will be pulled away from the areas of war. I’ve made arrangements for all of us to be picked up at midnight.”

Marcus tightened his arm around her as he turned his gaze to the clock as well, watching the seconds in their last minute tick away.

“We’ll make it through this,” he assured his two younger siblings even though he couldn’t remove his gaze from the clock.

Derek chuckled, bringing his head up even though he was clearly avoiding looking at the clock. “Of course we are! I told you, after all, that this was my December and, since I wasn’t able to make it my December, I’m going to make this new year all mine and it’s going to be great.”

There was cheering from the other room as the clock struck midnight. Marcus gave Derek a smirk, stating, “You made that promise at the top of the month. You better hold true to this one.”

A light filled the room as Derek nodded and Zoe spoke up, “We’ll all hold true to it.”

The light made the area appear white before suddenly disappearing. What had once been a full house was now empty and quiet. Not a single soul was left behind.

[ArtisticVicu]

January 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

His leg gave out from under him and he hit the ground hard. He was glad that Tony was the only one there as embarrassment rushed through him, coloring his cheeks and driving him to push himself back up. Calloused hands redirected his motion into a sitting one and he grunted in disdain, grounding out, “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the inventor retorted, hands moving over the prosthetic. “I want to check the limb.”

Steve leaned back on his hands, letting out a huff of air. His frustration slowly faded as he watched Tony work with half lidded eyes. A soft wind kicked up and it drew Steve’s gaze away and up. Soft, white clouds slowly drift by as the wind curled around him and he briefly forgot his frustration as he watches the sky.

Those same calloused hands that had created the prosthetic moved over the stump and across to the other limb. Steve looked down at Tony, bewildered. “What?”

“Checking to make sure you didn’t break anything else.”

Steve caught Tony’s wrist, finally gaining the man’s gaze. “I’m fine, Tony.”

Tony gave him a rather dark, flat look. “Says the man that took a nasty fall while running at full till and can’t even tell that he’s lost a good amount of skin on either arm.”

Astonished was the only word Steve could find that seemed to fit his own reaction. He pulled his hand back to turn his arm so he could see the underside. Sure enough the part of his forearm that had hit the pavement was scrapped and bleeding, his left even worse. Though, that made sense, seeing it was his left leg that had given out. The moment he registered the wounds, the stinging sensation hit him. His hands twitched and his face scrunched slightly, but he merely lowered his hands, looking to Tony sheepishly. “Got anything to tend these?”

Tony’s rather dark, flat look was on him again and Steve couldn’t help the nervous grin that crossed his face. “Right. Billionaire and over prepared for just about everything.”

Tony’s gaze dropped back to the prosthetic, fingers ghosting over the complexity of wires and metal in what Steve could only describe as a nervous tick. “The prosthetic is fine. You should be able to walk.“ The thinner man pushed himself upright before offering a hand to Steve. Steve took it and got up, keeping all his weight on his right leg as he did so. Once he was upright, he slowly added weight, letting out a sigh when the limb and prosthetic took the weight without trouble. Tony turned and stalked off, leaving Steve to catch up.

Silence settled between them but it was tense. Steve found it hard not to fidget when he stopped in the kitchen at Tony’s directing. Tony disappeared briefly, returning with a first aid kit in hand as well as a tool kit.

The hydrogen peroxide stung but Steve barely flinched, holding still as Tony poured the chemical over the wounds. The tap was already running cool water and it somehow felt better than the hydrogen peroxide till Tony started using soap and a cloth. Steve bit back a hiss, turning it into a sharp inhale, as he jerked back out of instinct when Tony did something that had actually hurt.

"Sorry,” the man muttered, “but I have to get the debris out.”

Steve game him a soft smile, offering, “I know, Tony. It’s ok.”

The brown eyes he was hoping would flicker his direction never did and the smile fell.

Once Steve was patched and cleared by Tony, they made their way into the sitting room. Steve settled on one of the couches as Tony went to the liquor cabinet. Steve watched him. It was after a moment when he asked, “Have you ever danced?”

Tony gave him an owlish look, as if the genius’s brain had failed to properly process the question. “Of course,” Tony voiced skeptically. “Is this a trick question?”

Steve leaned his head back against the couch. “I’ve never danced.”

“Never?” That time it was skeptical without the trepidation and Steve couldn’t help the chuckle that rose from his chest. “I highly doubt a soldier like you would have never gone dancing before.”

“Never,” Steve countered, enjoying this.

“Not even to prom?”

Steve snorted, looking at the inventor finding the slighter man leaning against the liquor cabinet with forgotten alcohol behind him. “I was a nerdy lanky kid back in high school.” He shrugged at the disbelief that filled Tony’s expression. “I didn’t hit my growth spurt till college and, really, it was the military that really gave me the body I have now.”

“I would have taken you,” Tony blurted and Steve laughed. Tony blushed violently but he stood his ground. “I’m sure you would have been a great prom date.”

Steve flashed him a smile. “Tony, I don’t dance and we grew up in an era where two boys going to prom just wasn’t how things went.”

Tony pursed his lips before walking towards something behind Steve. Steve lulled his head about, keeping an eye on Tony but losing any real detail on what the man was doing with the odd angle. He didn’t overly mind. He was pretty certain whatever Tony was doing wasn’t going to kill him.

Music filled the room and Steve’s insides went cold. Ok. Maybe he was wrong. He watched with an expression befitting a deer caught in the headlights Tony cross the room to stand before Steve, hand extended. “Dance with me,” Tony spoke, his voice firm.

Steve blinked at him. “Tony,” he tried, speaking slowly, “I don’t dance.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “So? I can teach you.”

It was Steve’s turn to be skeptical. “Really. You teach me how to dance?” Steve’s chuckle was nothing more than a huff of air. “Tony, I have two left feet. Now more so than ever.”

Tony nearly growled as he insisted, “Quit being stubborn and just take my hand, Rogers.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, taking Tony’s hand. The man pulled him up. “But if I step on your toes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Again, Tony rolled his eyes, but this time there was amusement on his face as he pulled Steve a bit closer, positioning Steve’s other hand on his shoulder. “Duly noted.”

They started out slow and Steve was really, really bad at it. He kept losing track of which foot was to go with which beat in which direction and, while Tony had such great form and was a wonderful lead, Steve found it hard to keep up. Running laps was becoming a lot more preferred over this.

“Quit thinking so hard,” Tony ground out.

“What do you expect me to do instead?” Steve asked, tripping slightly and accidentally stepping on Tony’s foot again. Steve winced, rushing a, “Sorry,” before Tony could even chastise him about saying sorry again. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Tony gave him a look and the sheepish grin was totally involuntary. Tony sighed and stopped them both. Steve blinked, mildly confused until Tony shifted before him, adjusting his form. Tony met his gaze again and this time it was just as calm and open as when they had started. “Don’t think about your feet,” Tony said. “Just move.”

Tony took a step to the side. Steve faltered as he went with but he found that his foot went to the right spot without him having to place it there. Tony’s lips twitched. “When you react,” Tony stepped backwards and this time Steve didn’t resist and, again, his foot landed in the right spot, “you’re actually a lot better than you think you are.”

Tony started a slow dance that had nothing to do with the music and slowly Steve became more and more relaxed in Tony’s guidance. Around the room they spun as Tony led the way. The mishaps became fewer and fewer as they started to chat and laugh and just enjoy the moment. But, just like every moment before, disaster of some sort struck and it turned out to be Steve backing into the coffee table that Tony somehow had spaced. Steve toppled backwards as Tony went with him and the table snapped beneath them. Winded but unharmed, Steve looked down at Tony. Out of instinct bread from the war, he had pulled Tony to his chest, wrapping his arms around the man’s head and shoulders to protect him. He eased his hold on the man, allowing Tony to look at them. There was silence for but a moment before they were both laughing.

Tony moved away, sitting on his ankles. Steve propped himself up on his elbowed, grinning at the other. “You are a horrible lead. I am never gonna dance again. Not unless it’s in a ballroom or some sort of open space and you are teaching me how to lead.”

Tony laughed. “Fair enough.”
The short chains on his ankles and wrists clattered loudly as he let out a battle cry. The audience screamed in excitement right along with his yell. He twirled his staff lazily as he surveyed those that were watching with narrowed eyes and a sneer on his face. He caught sight of the man that held the other end of his figurative leash and he forced his scowl into a neutral mask, dipping his head in feigned respect. The man bought it and gestured.

His next opponent rose from the ground.

He wanted to laugh, glancing once more at the man in control as if trying to gauge how much of this was a joke. Apparently it wasn’t as the guard gave his opponents (plural, mind you) weapons. He cracked his neck and rolled his left shoulder. If they wanted to try and make this not a fair fight, they could continue trying if they wanted to. It was clear the ones before him were new to this whole battle arena deal and he was going to use that against them.

He flicked the release and the staff disconnected, becoming a long chain with two bars at either end that both had a set of three claws situated in a triangle formation. The audience went nuts and his opponents seemed hesitant. The one standing closest to him out of the three adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword before glancing at the other two. They nodded and spread out, leaving the one with the sword standing alone. He kept is attention on the one before him as he tracked the other two’s movements. The one before him seemed to take a breath before charging him.

He moved.

One end of his weapon snapped out and his opponent raised his sword. The chain wrapped around the blade and he pulled downward, rolling with the motion as he brought the other end around. His opponent followed the sword down, rolling out of the way of the other end of the weapon. The other two prepped weapons but did not advance. Yet.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” his opponent ground out, blocking the return of the other end. “I want to break free, all three of us do, but we need your help.”

“My help,” he ground out as their fight became a sort of dance. “Yeah, the last time I was told that, I was nearly killed. I have two more fights left before I’m set free. Why would I risk that?”

His opponent frowned, slowing. He had to purposely miss just to not hit the stupid fool in the face. The weapon grazed the man’s cheek, leaving behind a red cut that slowly oozed. His opponent barely flinched, determined. “Because your family is going to help from the other end.”

This time his weapon went off course wildly and he had to jump away as the crowd booed. His gaze flickered to the man in charge and saw that the man was frowning. Yanking on the chain, he brought the far end back, swinging it around in an attempt to engage the other two. It worked. The one on the right cracked his whip and disappeared while the one on the left countered the end swung at him with his nunchucks. The crunch of gravel from his direct right was the only alert he needed. He ducked low and swiped out with his foot. He didn’t touch anything but he knew his invisible opponent couldn’t touch him. He brought the chain around, catching the whip as it lashed out. His invisible opponent became visible and he kicked out, catching the opponent in the chest and gaining the whip.

The audience screamed in celebration.

The one with the sword lunched at him and turned, eyes hard before he twisted his weapon around and brought it up at the last second as a staff, blocking the blade.

The screaming intensified.

He narrowed his eyes at his opponent, spitting out, “Leave my family out of this.”

“They came to us!” his opponent snapped back. “They asked us to get you free so we are.”

“But if you do it this way, I will forever be on the run.”

His opponent’s expression turned sad and the weight behind the sword slackened. He turned, the staff shoving the blade aside and nearly catching his opponent’s chin. He brought his ankle around in an upwards sweep but his opponent put some distance between them. The large one with the nunchucks came at him instead.

He used the staff like a vaulting pole, throwing himself up and over the large opponent aiming at him. At the peak of his ark, he collapsed the staff back into the weighted chain and twisted. The end against the ground seemed to come alive, whipping around and smacking the large opponent in the gut, briefly neutralizing that specific opponent. As he landed, the one with the whip returned, trying to use the landing as a distraction, but he was already adjusting. His weapon came up around him, lashing out. The one with the whip skidded to a stop and was forced to back up when he sent a weighted end with claws extended at the opponent’s face. The one with sword came up behind him.

He dug an elbow into the man’s gut.

The sword nearly fell out of his opponent’s suddenly lax grip and he took the opportunity presented to him. Yanking the sword out of his opponent’s reach, he brought his leg around and shoved his knee into his opponent’s side, sending the man flying away. The one with the whip tried to jump him from behind but he just kept the motion, using it to smack the weighted end without the claw into the whip wielding opponent’s temple. The man crashed into the ground unconscious. The burly one lunched at him but he sidestepped, effectively bringing a knee up to catch the large one in the gut and then to bring an elbow down at the back of the man’s skull. The brute dropped as dead weight to the ground.

He turned his gaze onto the remaining opponent, their sword still in his hand. He arched an eyebrow at them, pointing the tip of the blade at its master. “I will free myself. And I won’t let you get in the way of that.”
His breath froze in the air, drifting slowly skyward only because it was warmer than the air surrounding him. He didn’t even notice. His gaze was turned to one end of the road, hands buried deep inside warm pockets. A vehicle drove passed in the other direction but he didn’t react. He merely watched the end of the road, waiting.

The vehicle that had passed him came to a stop before the bend he was staring at. The back up lights flickered on. He turned his attention from the bend to the vehicle as it reversed and came to a stop before him. The driver rolled down their window, asking, “You alright? Need a lift?”

He shook his head, offering politely, “My ride is coming. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

The driver looked like they didn’t believe him but they took his words at face value. “Do you need anything while you wait, then? I have water in the back, some snack bars, and pocket warmers.”

He tipped his head to the side in thought before voicing, “If you’re willing to spare a water, I wouldn’t mind having one.”

“Yeah, hang on,” the driver said, shifting the vehicle into park. There was a moment as the driver rummaged through something in the back before returning with a sealed bottle of water. “You sure you don’t need that ride?”

He took the water from the stranger, shaking his head. “I will be alright. Thank you.”

The driver gave him a flat look but nodded. “Alright. Take care, stranger.”

The driver shifted the vehicle back into drive and drove off. He quickly uncapped the water and drained the bottle of its content. Tucking the empty plastic bottle into his coat, he turned his gaze on the bend once more.

The clouds thickened overhead and snow began to drift down. He let it settle upon him without a thought, his gaze for only the bend.

It was close to two hours later when the next vehicle passed. This one didn’t stop and kept going. He barely noticed.

The third vehicle was a half hour later. This one pulled up right in front of him, the driver rolling down their window. “You alive little buddy?”

He turned to look at the driver. He nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Waitin’ for somethin’?” He nodded again. The driver nodded. “Alright. Well, yer only gonna get probably one more vehicle to pass ya before nightfall. If yer ride don’t show up before then, I’d suggest you take it.”

He nodded once more. “Thank you.”

The driver rolled up their window and continued on. He watched them leave beyond the bend before focusing on the bend itself. As night fell, the world around him turned dark. It was hard to see anything and when another vehicle came from behind him, his world was briefly illuminated in a way that hurt his eyes. The vehicle didn’t stop and he made no attempts to wave it down.

As it passed beyond the bend in the road, he stepped out onto the dark pavement. He stood in the middle of the street, gaze continuously on the bend in the road. It was about two hours later before something happened.

There was a noise from ahead of him and he tensed, suddenly ready for action after hours of idle waiting.

The thing that stepped out onto the bend was something only ever spoken about in stories. Ethereal yet haunting, the creature moved slowly, as if in water. Long, bony legs stretched out, hoofed feet not making any sound as the rim of each hoof seemed to sink slightly beyond the surface. The head turned towards him, eyes nothing more than blank orbs set on either side of the skull like most prey animals. The creature passed him and he stood perfectly still, waiting. The creature stopped behind him and the only way he knew was because the light the creature gave off played off the mountainside he had been standing in front of while waiting and the trees of the forest on the other side of the road. The creature came back and its head came into view, one eye pointed at him.

He carefully reached into his jacket and pulled out the bottle. The creature’s large, unblinking orb of an eye showed no signs of focusing on his actions but he could almost sense that the creature was watching him intently.

He opened the bottle.

The creature moved forward and he stilled again. The thing’s head was bigger than his hold form at least three times over and as it sniffed at the rim of the bottle, he closed his eyes. There was sound from the bend in the road but he made no move to open his eyes. The creature beside him made a noise, the sound as light as it was echoy. The creature that had come made a noise as well. but it was harsh and sent a thrill of terror through him. He dared not to breath.

The creature that had appeared second moved passed. He only knew this because the light against his eyelids had dimmed. Chancing it, he opened his eyes enough to see the ground. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes fully but didn’t move his body. Instead, he let his gaze drift to the light source behind him and the creature that had come first was standing there, watching the other creature leave. A third came around the bend but he made no move to close his eyes. The first creature reached down and plucked the bottle from his hand. The third creature made no noise but it did look at him as best as the creature could with its orb like eyes.

The first and third creature left together.

Closing his eyes again, he waited. The fourth and final creature came out from around the bend. Its light was sharper than the others but it made no sound. Though he didn’t want to move, he slowly raised a hand before him before moving it to be as far out to the side as he could physically make it.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the fourth creature pressed against his open palm. He couldn’t open his eyes even when the creature picked him up and deposited him on their back.

He settled in for a long ride.

Somewhere along the way, the ride smoothed out till it felt like he wasn’t moving. When he opened his eyes, it was to a dark, stormy sky that greeted him. Pain laced through him as he attempted to move something. He could taste metallic on his tongue as he caught a brief glimpse of a vehicle to the side and a creature with bony legs and ethereal yet haunting standing in the beam of a car’s headlight.

[ArtisticVicu]

February 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

There was laughter over the track of the movie and he was part of it, even as a part of him was kind of sad to miss this section of the movie. Jasper picked up on it instantly, meaning Edward was right behind him. Amber eyes were on him as a mischief smile graced that sculpted face. Adhara rolled his eyes. “What? I happen to like this part. Even if it is cheesy.” There was a collective, teasing, “ooooh” from the majority there and Adhara gave them all a flat look. “You cannot deny me the hopeless romantic notion of finding a partner in a long term friend here.”

“I can see what’s happening,”
“What?”

“He does have a point,” Alice voiced, leaning against Jasper. “It is something many wish for.”

“And they don’t have a clue.”
“Who?”

Edward pressed closer, whispering into Adhara’s ear, “Do you want me to tell Jessica to hold off on getting a date for prom or do you prefer Angela.”

“They’ll fall in love and here’s the bottom line,”

Adhara shoved him hard enough that the vampire rolled over the arm of the couch and crashed to the floor. The room roared with laughter as Adhara good-heartedly stuck out his tongue at the one on the floor. Edward gave him a cheeky grin in return.

“Our trio’s down to two.”
“Oh.”

Adhara rubbed at his face, the movie loud enough downstairs that he knew exactly where they were at. The memories of fun times with the entire group assaulted him and he fortified his mental shields to keep Edward out. Thank the gods for small miracles.

“The sweet caress of twilight,”

He wanted to be down there with them all, if only to relive those moments. He felt Jasper’s ability wrap confidence and ease around him but he brushed it aside. But no matter how much he wanted to relive those memories, she was down there and he was having a hard enough time just sharing classes with her.

“There’s magic everywhere,”

She was the reason he was now alone in his doubts. He and Edward had bonded over their own doubts of ever finding love, of ever having a partner through life. They had settled into being two bachelors and that had been a decent compromise. It had even been great.

“And with all this romantic atmosphere,”

At least, until his cousin came to town, leaving him to be the only one doubting love was ever coming for him. After all, how could he find love with what he was?

“Disaster’s in the air.”

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

“So many things to tell her,”

Adhara was impressed he was able to not react to that news. He was also impressed that he hadn’t managed to collapse. It felt as if his entire body had shut down out of shock. How was he managing to stay standing, let alone appearing calm, was beyond him because he certainly didn’t feel calm about this. Though, he didn’t feel much of anything at the moment.

“But how to make her see,”

“Oh,” he offered but the flicker of emotion on Edward’s face told him it had sounded odd to him as well.

“The truth about my past, impossible.”

“I want you to be my best man.”

“She’d turn away from me.”

Adhara had to close his eyes to keep from showing just how much that hurt. When he opened them again, he offered a tight smile, and a tighter, “I can’t.”

“He’s holding back, he’s hiding,”

He hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t thought of Forks in months till he had caught sight of a familiar head of hair in the crowd. He felt a body press closer to his side in the crowd and he leaned into his roommate even as he came to a stop.

“But what, I can’t decide.”

Amber eyes met sky blue and Adhara gave himself a moment to take in Edward through the crowd of Pearl Street Mall. It eased some part of him to see that the other appeared to be doing well without him.

“Why won’t he be the king I know he is?”

“Adhara?” his other roommate inquired. Adhara turned, ignoring Edward’s voice calling for him. He tried not to react physically to the pain that it caused. He shook his head, urging as they lost Edward in the crowd, “Ignore him.”

“The king I see inside?”

“I am not leaving until I know you are bandaged and not going to get jumped again!”

“Can you feel the love tonight?”

“And I want you out of my home! God damn it, Edward. You can’t just show up unannounced and expect to be welcomed with open arms!”

“The peace the evening brings,”

“And I’m not about to leave when neither of your roommates are here to protect you.” The insinuation left Adhara equal parts flabbergasted and enraged. He narrowed his eyes.

“The world, for once, in perfect harmony,”

“Don’t you dare insinuate things you have no business dealing with. They’re not here because I asked them to disappear for the night so that they would be out of danger.” His insinuation was of a different nature but he could see that it hit a nerve in the vamp before him. Good.

“With all its living things.”

“Seriously?”

“Can you feel the love tonight?”

The word was softly spoken, as if Edward had taken the care to pick it and say it. Adhara let the gentle smile show on his face, thumb running over the worn cover of his mother’s journal, the thing that had answered so many of his own questions that Edward was unknowingly repeating. “Seriously,” he parroted, looking at him. “Apparently, even though I had scent markers, it’s nothing like the Quileute pack’s imprinting. It’s one sided and doesn’t even create emotions. They’re just scent markers.”

“You needn’t look too far.”

Edward chuckled, the sound vibrating through him where their ribs were pressed against each other. Edward’s hand tightened comfortingly around Adhara’s. “No wonder you didn’t want to be my best man.”

“Stealing through the night’s uncertainties,”

Adhara shoved him off the balcony, grinning as he heard Edward laugh all the way down to the ground. He looked down at the vampire that had landed in a crouch, unharmed. Edward grinned up at him as he straightened and, if anyone asked when Adhara’s world had finally mended itself, he would always point to this moment and tell them that it was when he shoved Edward from the second story balcony.

“Love is where they are.”

But, in reality, it was when Edward returned to his side, settling on the edge of the balcony once more with their ribs pressing against each other and the vampire entangled their fingers once more. Cheesy, but it was something Adhara would cherish till his dying day.
“Independent and Free! Independent and Free! Independent and Free!”

The mantra was thunderous and sharp, seeming to shake the entire world as it was repeated in the same thunderous way all around the world.

“Independent and Free! Independent and Free!”

“They’re gonna get themselves killed.”

He scoffed at her words, eyes not wavering from the crowds below, the shouting of the crowd barely muffled by the window. “At least it’ll make our lives easier.”

“Yer an ass,” a separate female commented from behind him.

He looked over at her, arching an eyebrow but not challenging her words. The female that had spoken first clicked the rifle pieces together a bit sharper than necessary. She locked eyes on the female he was currently looking at and supplied instead, “He does have a point.”

“Thank you, Nine,” he said, dipping his chin to the sniper before turning his gaze out the window once more.

Nine clicked together another portion of her riffle. “Was not supporting you, Twenty-Six.”

He shrugged his shoulder. A gruff voice growled from the back of the room. “Shut it, you three. Twenty-Six, any sightings yet?”

“None yet, Thirteen. Thirty-Seven?”

The unnamed female in the back shifted, adjusting her headset and a few dials on the instruments before her. “Sounds coming in clear. Still waiting on the signal.”

“Are we sure about this?” Twenty-Six challenged, turning his gaze back to the crowd below. “Can we really trust One’s intel?”

“Ain’t my intel you’re challenging,” a young man-no, a boy spoke, stepping up to Thirteen’s side. The seasoned soldier saluted the small youth. “Madam gave me the information directly. She wanted you on this job specifically.”

Twenty-Six frowned. “Why not inform us directly?”

One shook his head. “None of the teams were informed directly. Only those within the First were informed.”

Nine’s hands stilled, her glare snapping to One. “Which First? Because I wasn’t told shit.”

One offered a soft smile but it was disconcerting as it didn’t reach the youth’s eyes. “The First Selection. Not the First Tier, which you and I both fall into.”

Silence fell over them and the mantra from the crowd swelled.

“Independent and Free! Independent and Free! Independent and Free!”

Twenty-Six turned his gaze to the streets, inquiring, “Madam’s sure this’ll work?”

One shrugged. “Does it matter? Do as she’s directed. That is all any of us can do.”

“One?” One turned his gaze to Thirty-Seven. “Why aren’t we encouraging the protests?”

Twenty-Six scoffed. “Could have answered that for ya, Thirty-Seven.”

Thirty-Seven glared at him. “And I know you’ll just be a jerk about it.” She turned her gaze back to One, her headset shifting as she did so. “One?”

One held her gaze long enough to nod at the window Twenty-Six was supporting with his shoulder. “Do you know what they are calling for, Thirty-Seven?”

“Independence and freedom from the World Power,” she recited easily.

One nodded. “Do you know who started that mantra?” Thirty-Seven shook her head. “Madam.”

“What, what?” Twenty-Six snapped, spinning around. Nine settled the mount of her riffle on the window ledge. “Madam is the head of all this?”

One tipped his head to the side, expression blank. “Yes. And no. She started this. She is not leading this. You know her goal. You know the ideals of the Selection and their roll within the Resistance. We stand to help bring independence and freedom to all but what those people out there are doing is not the way to go about it. Rioting and violent protests are far from what they need to be doing.”

As if to taunt them, the voice of the crowd “Independent and Free! Independent and Free!”

One dipped his head towards the window. “Follow Madam’s orders. We will bring independence and freedom from the World Power but not through these archaic methods.”

Thirty-Seven jerked upright, hand flying to the dials before her as she quickly spewed, “Target leaving shelter. Viewing ETA 1 minute.”

The entire room tensed. Twenty-Six swept his gaze over the crowd as Nine waited on his word. He found their target even in the madness below.

“Independent and Free! Independent and Free!”

“South, walking north toward the stand. Quadrant 2D.”

“Locked on,” Nine spoke, voice crisp, clear.

“Informing motion,” Thirteen spoke in a low voice before he ducked out.

“Guard information inbound,” Thirty-Seven spoke. “Unit AI. Count 3.”

“Spotted,” Twenty-Six and Nine confirmed. “Count 1 and 2 at side,” Twenty-Six informed, Nine continuing, “Count 3 on opposite roof, 2 o'clock.”

“Relaying intel,” Thirty-Seven replied. Briefly muttered words filled the lulled silence. She spoke up again. “Snipe count 3 at ready.”

“Marked and initializing,” Nine supplied, shifting slightly before compressing the trigger. There was a puff of air. “Count 3 out.”

“Count 1 and 2 aware. They are searching,” Twenty-Six urged, glaring at the units below.“

"Can they triangulate?” One asked, voice hard.

“Listening,” Thirty-Seven informed at the same time Twenty-Six responded with, “Doesn’t appear so.”

“Confirmed,” Thirty-Seven quickly relayed. “Count 1 and 2 had not seen any of it. They are breaking off count 2.”

“Confirmed,” Twenty-Six spoke. “Count 2 heading to adjacent building.”

“Received intel: take out count 1 now,” Thirty-Seven urged.

“Marked and initializing,” Nine responded, already moving. She compressed the trigger. “Count 1 out.”

“Count 2 did not see any of it. Is now rejoining target. Only target appears to know that anything is wrong,” Twenty-Six supplied, eyes on the ground. “Crowd is still blind to it all.”

“Received intel: take out count 2 now,” Thirty-Seven spoke over him.

“Marked and initializing,” Nine confirmed, once more compressing the trigger. “Count 2 out.”

“Hold on Target till mark,” Thirty-Seven relayed.

Nine shifted. “Marked and ready.”

Twenty-Six narrowed his eyes, trying to take in the target. Something was wrong. He glanced at One to find the youth’s eyes on him. Twenty-Six frowned, trying to decipher the lack of expression. There was like a click in the back of his head as Thirty-Seven’s words seemed far away. “Take out Target on mark.”

“Our target is Madam,” Twenty-Six spoke, the horror of the thought raging into terror at One’s minute nod as Thirty-Seven spoke, “Fire.”

The chanting outside held but it only lasted till the end of the slogan. It began to waver, repeating a second time. Somewhere in the middle of the third, someone screamed.
“Sensuality.”

He frowned slightly as he let the hammer come down on the nail. “In what context?”

She looked up from the book, confused. “What do you mean?”

He leaned back enough to look at her perched on top of a set piece, his class notebook and textbook resting on her knee. “Is it meant to be associate with sensuous or sensual? Are we dealing with the older definitions or the more modern ones?”

She shrugged, showing him the page she was reading from. “You’ve got me. It just says sensuality.”

He let out a sigh, turning back to his work. “Fricken vague professors.”

He hammered in a few more nails before he had to move the ladder. It wasn’t till he was on the ground that he realized she hadn’t spoken up again. He looked to her, curious. “You alright, kit?”

She looked at him, blinking as if coming out of a daze. She nodded, smiling. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

“Bout sensuality?”

She nodded again as he crossed to stand beneath her. “It’s hard not to, with what we are.”

He chuckled at that. “Young adults full of hormones.”

She shifted so that her legs hung over the edge, feet barely brushing the face of the structure as she gave him a look. “Not just that.”

He looked away. “We can’t, Nera,” he growled, looking around to see if anyone else was there. They were thankfully alone.

“Come on, Xander,” Nera urged, leaning forward as if threatening to jump. “Tell me you’re not curious.”

“Of course I am,” he snapped, his voice slow and roughened by a growl. “But this is not the time nor the place to be discussing it.”

She made a face almost like she had tasted something sour. He knew that she felt betrayed by his words just by her reaction but he just couldn’t. Not here, not with so much at stake. He sighed, turning to return to the flat he had been hammering facing onto. “Look, I’m more than up for talking about it later but right now, I have work to do.” He dug out a few nails from a box, glancing at her. “You gonna help me study or not?”

She sighed and returned to her original position, his books propped up around her. “Fine. But I’m not letting you off the hook,” she promised.

He smirked around a nail between his teeth. “Next word.”

He worked like that for another half hour, going through and doing all that needed to be done by hand. In the end, it all turned out rather well and the rest of the crew had arrived. Nera joined him briefly, his bag slung over her shoulder. She looked determined, if not a tad annoyed. “Later,” she reminded him sharply.

He offered her a tight smile and a pat of the shoulder. “Later. Promise.”

She gave a quick nod before ducking out as the technical director stormed the stage. He fell into work, doing what was asked of him with relative ease. It wasn’t till they were cleaning up that one of his classmates and fellow coworker asked their own question.

“Hey, Xander, you understand the study guide?”

He looked to his classmate, finding a young man smaller than him and a little on the timid side. An actor, not a technician, but there for the credit needed to pass a class. He shrugged, winding the cable they were gathering on the catwalk. “Only enough to know that the teacher was being vague.”

His classmate chuckled and shook their head. “At least I’m not the only one thinking that.”

Xander dropped his bundle on the cart, gaze still on his classmate. “Everything alright, Tucker?”

His classmate shrugged. “As alright as things can be.”

Xander placed his hand on Tucker’s shoulder, feeling the young man tense beneath his touch. Xander noted it and pushed it aside. “Hey. You do know that you don’t have to work yourself to the bone, right? Nera says yer doing at least five classes and, not only are you cast in the production, you’re working here and off campus.” Xander frowned. “Is there anything that either of us can do for you?”

Tucker shook his head but the other now looked a lot more tired than Xander had originally noticed. He also noticed faint tremors under his fingers which only bred worry in his gut. “No, and I’ve already told Nera the same thing.” Tucker gave him a tight smile. “You two are always so kind to me. Really, I’m fine. Just still getting used to it all.”

Xander slowly removed his hand from the other, not sure how to take it. But, nonetheless, he let it be. “Alright. But you come to either of us if you ever need anything. Even if it’s just help with homework.”

Tucker grinned at him but Xander could see the flaws in the mask. “Of course.”

Xander turned his back for only a moment, but there was a commotion behind him, and someone screamed.

Xander spun around, mind working fast to take in what was going on. Tucker was wavering between safety and free fall at the edge of the catwalk. One of the other students, some bully Xander cared not to know the name of, had pushed bodily passed Tucker and, while it may have been fine, it seemed that exhaustion had rid the young man of his balance. Xander didn’t even have a chance to think.

He was across the catwalk and jumping after Tucker, consequences be damned. Air rushed passed him as the sound of his own blood filled his ears. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Tucker, wings suddenly pounding the air around him to make sure he reached the smaller man before they touched ground. With a grunt, he turned them about in the air so that his wings could counter their fall. By the time his feet touched ground, he had nearly countered their freefall completely. His feet were soft as they touched pavement but his main concern was Tucker.

The young man was shaking in his grasp but the freefall had caused the other to shift, similar to how Xander had just shifted. But Tucker seemed to be in shock, staring at his hands as if he didn’t recognize them. Xander growled, though it sounded weird coming from the chest of an aviary of sorts. He turned his attention to the crowd, defensive. His wings came up as if to shield them both.

“Xander!”

Nera came bounding over on all four paws, her human form having given way to her anthropomorphic fox form. She moved from all fours to two legs smoothly, hands ghosting over Xander’s large black beak in a calming gesture. “What happen?” she asked, the fur on her tail fluffed more than normal and her ears alert and twitchy, meaning she was on edge. He gently grabbed her hand as he tucked his wings against his back.

“Someone pushed Tucker off the catwalk.” He noticed that, even with her fur, she paled considerably. He tightened his grip on her hand, urging, “He’s never shifted.”

Her eyes snapped to the young man Xander was still holding against his chest. Tucker was lankier than normal, though Xander would use the term lithe in later conversations. It suited him, seeing as he had turned into a sort of anthropomorphic deer. Not quite like Nera, able to use all four limbs to run, but he had the antlers, the ears, a slightly elongated face, and longer limbs. His coloring had changed a bit too, leaving his hands the same color as hooves, and his skin and hair to be more of the coloring of a specific type of deer. Xander had no clue what type it was but he knew for certain it wasn’t the white-tail that was native to the region. Xander tightened his hold on Tucker, gaining Nera’s gaze. He wasn’t looking at her though. The students around them looked as if they were still in shock. “Nera,” he urged, his voice low.

“Xander! Nera!” the technical director barked, causing both to flinch. Xander’s feathers rose from his body, giving him a rather jagged look. Nera was in no better shape, all her fur standing on end in fright. They both were not sure how to handle the situation when their professor and technical director stopped before them, ordering, “Do not move from this spot till I get back. Am I clear?”

They both nodded out of not knowing what else to do.

The technical director turned to the rest of the student body. “Carmic, go around and make sure the doors are locked. Everyone else to the house. Find a seat and get comfortable. We’re going to be a while.”

The technical director moved off to do something, leaving the three students in their creature forms floundering for something to do. Xander wanted to shift back to human just so that the other students would stop staring but, if he did that, his plumage would go away, revealing more of Tucker than was already exposed. The thought only made him curl around the deer in his arm even more. Nera seemed to be reading his thoughts like she always seemed to do because she re-positioned herself so that she was more obvious to look at than Tucker.

The technical director returned with another professor and Xander instinctively bristled again. They did not need more people knowing about them.

“Xander, how is Tucker,” the new professor asked, coming to stand just out of reach of Nera.

Xander looked down to find Tucker’s gaze on him. The young man seemed calmer and a lot more alert. “Better, professor,” Xander responded, returning his gaze to the professor. “But I don’t understand why you are here, let alone why Nera and I haven’t simply booked it by now.”

The technical director gave a chuckle that carried from the stage. “Because you’re not alone in this.”

Xander frowned at him but Nera seemed to lighten up with a bit of hope. The technical director looked to the other students, seeming to pick specific ones, ordering, “If you know how, shift. It’s about time we started making a community for those of you that can.”

A good number of the student body shifted into all manner of creature, ranging from that actual creature to an anthropomorphic version of it to even some just having a few minor characteristics. Xander visibly relaxed as the technical director shifted. He turned his gaze to the professor, finding that the man hadn’t shifted. “Professor?”

The professor gave a soft smile. “I am not one of you, but my husband is.”

The technical director sat on the edge of the stage. “That is not well known information in the school and none of you are permitted to spread it,” he growled.

The majority of the student body flinched at the empty threat but one brave soul raised their hand, squeaking out, “About you two being married?”

The technical director nodded, though Xander couldn’t help but think that was a rather tame reaction.

The professor shifted his weight, gaining the majority’s attention again. “We would like to start a network of support for those that are….more than human.” There was a collective tensing but the professor continued on as carefully as he could manage, turning his attention to the masses. “There are many things a lot of you are unprepared for, especially if you have recently discovered this trait about yourself. Your senses will be affected in many ways and myself and your TD are working to set up a system to help you.”

“Those of you that are human in this room, fully and completely,” the technical director spoke, the silence becoming even more so as he paused, “you are being asked to either become part of this community and help your friends and classmates in their time of need, or to keep your trap shut and never speak of this again. Your choice.”

The professor gained a fond smile. “Charming as always.”

The technical director shrugged, obviously hearing the soft comment. “Not my fault I have such the reputation.”

“You’re still scary, teach,” Xander commented, feeling brave even when his technical director turned panther eyes on him. And everyone thought their technical director was scarier before. “And that isn’t something we did.”

The technical director pretended to be affronted but the glint in that panther gaze clearly spoke of amusement that was probably sadistic on some level. “I’m not that scary!”

“Hun, you’re currently a panther,” the professor commented, the banter cutting through the tension in the room like a lightning bolt. The students relaxed, a low chatter settling over the room.

The technical director pointed his finger at the closest students, male and female. “If I hear any of you make a kitty comment, I will make you strike the set by yourself at the end of the run.”

Laughter filled the space as those that had been picked out cowered appropriately. That was a threat no one wanted to have happen.

[ArtisticVicu]

Othertale
Undertale AU
Sans Centered

Summary:
Everything is wrong. Or, at least, he vaguely remembers thinking everything is wrong. Or maybe that was just a dream. Living in a temporal loop has certainly erased any memories of what had happened before he had gotten trapped in the temporal loop.

It was even more true when he finally wakes up from it, too.

Left with nothing but the memories of living the same stretch of days over and over again in a nightmare of a time loop, Sans the Skeleton wakes to an Underground he does not recognize. There had only been one human in the time loop and even fewer monsters. He hadn't worked at a lab - heck, the lab hadn't even existed in the time loop, let alone 90% of the Underground - and what little sciencing he had done had been laughable. But he could adjust. It would be fine. He still has Papyrus. He also has a human lab partner who seems a bit too intertwined in his life to not be someone more significant than a lab partner of two years. He wasn't sure what to do with that but there was hope things would be answered when his memory returned.

If it returned. Turns out he had delved into things he probably shouldn't have and he can't even remember what had been so important to risk it.


Please be advised that this story does have:
Major Character Death
Graphic Depictions Of Violence

It felt like a miracle he was even waking up with how bad his head was pounding. He was pretty certain he was either stupid lucky he hadn’t cracked his skull on the floor or that someone had found him rather quickly after he had collapsed. He grumbled lowly to himself, shifting against the mattress. He had known he was going to pass out. Why did he have to fight it?

He frowned. Weird. Why did it feel like he was on a mattress with no sheet?

He pushed himself off the mattress enough to look even as every bone in his body complained at the action. Sure enough, he came face to face with the bare mattress he had been face down on.

Something was wrong. He looked to the side, finding himself in his room, buddle of sheets and blankets at the foot of his bed looking like a boulder as usual. Except, this wasn’t his room nor – to his bewilderment – the room he expected to wake up in. But it was his room and there was no reason why he should be waking up anywhere else. The whole duality (or, in this case, triality) was really not helping the pounding in his head as it sent a wave of vertigo through him.

He settled on the edge of the mattress as he attempted to will his headache away. The sound of footfall outside his room then the sudden pounding at his door did nothing to aid his attempt.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

Sans the Skeleton flinched, but smiled warmly at his brother’s voice even as a sense of wrong went through him. “Five more minutes, Pap,” he called out in return, his voice lulling the words about in a manner that spoke of sleepiness he wasn’t feeling.

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. Sans chuckled. “TIME TO GET UP!”

“That was so kind of you, Pap,” he replied, getting up. He regretted it instantly. His entire being throbbed painfully but he pushed it all aside as he grabbed whatever was closest and dressed. “You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

Heavy footfall fading away was enough for him to clue where his brother was heading. He attempted to deny the sense of wrong that had come with the thought of his brother’s destination.

He attempted to deny that the feeling had been associated with the jacket he had grabbed, blue with a fake fur lined hood that seemed to be too bright in color, as if it wasn’t even real.

He tugged on a different shirt and cleaner shorts, though cleanliness was more relative in this case. When had he become such a slob?

The scent coming from the kitchen was foreign and familiar as he stepped out of his room, closing his door securely behind him. The fresh wave of vertigo was accompanied by nausea and it took all he had to manage his way down the stairs.

Every part of him was screaming WRONG and yet there was nothing wrong. Everything was as it should be. There was nothing out of place, nothing incorrect. But, no matter how hard he tried, he came to a stop at the kitchen door, gripping the doorframe for support as he tried to keep from shaking.

Before him was his brother, back turned to him as the taller skeleton tended to something on the stove, battle body on like always. Sans found it equal parts easy and difficult to recall why the taller was wearing the strange attire that wasn’t strange at all.

His headache pulsed painfully behind his left eye and he pressed the heel of a hand to the socket, willing the headache away.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

“Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have,” Sans urged playfully, though there was no honesty to the emotion. It was like he was sprouting memorized lines and, as he settled into a chair, he found that this whole situation felt like an act in a play. It was a very strange analogy, one he wasn’t sure he knew the origin of.

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed and Sans was grateful the other was too busy focusing on cooking to have seen the flinch at the volume. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

The smile came easily as he rested his chin on his palm. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

To say that he was startled when a plate of spaghetti was placed before him was an understatement. He had been expecting something else, something completely different to be placed before him but, when he tried to remember what he had been expecting, it slipped through his fingers like smoke.

The scent of a specific cigarette assaulted him long enough for him to register it but not to pinpoint the memory it dredged up.

He hid his shudder by grinning at his brother, commenting, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking about something in that loud voice of his but it was nothing more than background noise. What was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly experiencing all this? Papyrus always made spaghetti. Heck, he was pretty sure his bro didn’t know how to make anything else. But there had been that scent as well, whatever that scent had been. It had been brief, it had been so potent, like he should know what it had come from and should have remembered what it was but, just like the sudden expectation of a different kind of food for breakfast, he couldn’t figure out what it had been.

He hadn’t realized he had been eating till he took another bite and the bitterness and the wrong washed over his senses. He swallowed the bite he had been consuming, shuddering at the taste and willing his body to retain it. He put his fork down and keyed in to the one sided conversation.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Sans noticed that Papyrus hadn’t really touched his own place. Sans let that ease his smile bigger. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

Stepping out of the house was probably worse than him stepping out of his room. Vertigo washed over him and the breakfast spaghetti nearly made an encore as he stumbled in the snow. He couldn’t breathe as his gaze snapped around, horror sinking in.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. It was all wrong! There was-this was all-No!! This was wrong! This was-

“BROTHER?!” Sans jerked, finding his brother’s hands securely on his arms. Sans felt like screaming. “BROTHER, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“Yeah, bro,” he spoke, his words coming easily and the lie even easier. “Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus released him and Sans almost reach out towards him, fearing he would fall face first into the snow. Thankfully, he didn’t. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

“Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind but it was weird. The sense of wrong hadn’t left and it was just getting stronger the longer they passed through town. There should be more homes, more people, different people, but Sans knew this had always been who had been here, that the buildings were as they had always been. The library with its misspelled sign, the path that led to the few houses north and the dog that chucked ice to keep the core cool, Grillby’s on the other side of the path. It was all as it should be but it was all wrong.

He looked up and wished he hadn’t.

Sans shoved the sudden claustrophobia away as his magic reacted, yanking at the world around him and depositing him behind Papyrus. He nearly stumbled face first into the snow as he suddenly appeared on his brother’s heel. This time actual panic rushed through him. Teleportation was a thing he did naturally but what he had just done was not what he normally did.

His head pulsed painfully.

He felt like screaming in frustration as his head pounded and just teleport back to his room and stay there. This was not right, not fair!! Why was he feeling like he was suddenly not right in his own bones? This…this was….it just….

He came to a stop at the bridge as a sense of apathy settled over him. It was foreign but welcomed as he focused on his brother already halfway across the long bridge. He took a second, grounding himself in the sudden apathy.

All the wrong fell away.

When he opened his sockets, Papyrus was nearly cross the bridge. With no effort, he brushed the world around him with his magic and, as he took a step, he went from one end of the bridge to the other in the blink of an eye. Papyrus glanced back as his boots touched solid ground but Sans only gave him a lazy grin and continued to follow.

The canine royal guards greeted them as they passed. Sans went with the motions, speaking words he didn’t even have to think about. When they reached the last puzzle – or the first, depending on the direction one traveled in – Sans looked to his brother, offering, “I’ll trek ahead and check on my post.”

“DON’T DILLY DALLY, SANS!! WE HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO!!!”

Sans chuckled and pulled at the world around him when Papyrus wasn’t looking. As used magic drifted away and dissipated, the apathy did as well. With his brother out of sight and being so far from another living soul, Sans found it hard to even keep the apathy in place.

He was reacquainted with the breakfast spaghetti but, thankfully, it was through expelled magic rather than half digested food. He shuddered, his bones rattling at the force. He didn’t even want to know where that knowledge came from and hoped he forgot about it as he had everything else that morning.

He frowned.

No, he could remember that morning, but it was hard. He remembered that something at breakfast had startled him but he couldn’t remember what. He remembered that waking up that morning had been weird but he couldn’t…..couldn’t………

He came to abruptly, finding himself slumped forward in a chair, head resting on the counter of the sentry station in a clearing with an interestingly shaped lamp. He rubbed his face as he sat up, frowning. Odd…he couldn’t remember making it to the sentry station let alone falling asleep at it. He looked around. Nope, nothing strange beyond the lamp. Pulling at the world, he stood at the edge of the clearing, barely making out an interesting structure farther down the path in the fog. It took nothing to take a shortcut closer and he found himself coming up on a ravine that had an old bridge crossing it, a massive wooden structure that looked more like rectangular arches than a gate. He chuckled, passing through the gate. Leave it to his brother to create the most interesting of things. He sporadically used shortcuts, only moving as far as he could see.

It was probably the wisest thing he had ever done because he would have ended up teleporting into a door and he much preferred not being a permanent addition to the underground’s historic structure. He pressed a hand to the stone door, a smile tugging at his face. Exhaustion pulled at his bones again and Sans went easily with it this time, teleporting to a high branch in a nearby tree.

He settled in to nap only for a low rumble of stone grating against stone to fill the quiet forest.

He sat up, his gaze automatically locking onto the door set into the wall. He watched as a tiny human stepped out. Oh, he knew the figure wasn’t a monster. It was very obvious the tiny person was not a monster.

He slipped from his branch and the world bent and stretched around him as he teleported so that he landed on the tough-looking branch the kid – it had to be a kid – had walked around. Spend magic dissipated quickly and the surprise the sound seemed to cause in the human was amusing. He fell back a ways before shifting the world around him and returning to a few paces behind the kid. The kid stopped at the bridge and Sans slowly strolled up behind them.

He came to a stop just outside of arm’s reach, anticipation racing through him like adrenaline. An amused smirk pulled at his smile. “Human,” he states plainly, slowly. “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand.”

The words came easily and tasted familiar but that was nothing new. The kid turned around slowly. He reached out, offering his hand to this human that had been labeled a danger by Asgore long before the human had ever fallen.

The kid took his hand.

The whoopee cushion deflated between their palms and Sans’s smile broke into a grin. “Heheh. The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It’s ALWAYS funny.” The kid gave a confused giggle as Sans tucked his hand back into his pocket. “Anyways, you’re a human, right? That’s hilarious. I’m Sans. Sans the Skeleton. I’m actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now. But…y’know…” Sans shrugged, “I don’t really care about capturing anybody. Now my brother, Papyrus, he’s a human-hunting FANATIC.” Motion over the kid's head drew Sans's attention briefly and his face lit up. He’d know that silhouette anywhere, even from this distance through the light fog. “Hey, actually, I think that’s him over there.” He focused back on the kid, catching the tail end of their rotation to see what he was looking at. “I have an idea.” The kid looked back at him. “Go through this gate thingy.” The kid glanced at the gate, worry marring their expression. Sans nodded. “Yeah, go right through. My bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone.”

It was a breath, a moment that allowed Sans to watch as the kid’s worry turned into determination, before the kid turned right around and walked through the massive structure’s posts. Sans kept pace with them, following them through to the other side and then some. Surprisingly enough, the oddly-shaped lamp that had always been next to his station was suddenly conveniently-shaped and very useful, especially with his brother heading their way. “Quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.”

The kid gave him a hesitant smile before they hurried to hide behind the lamp. Just in time, too. Papyrus came striding in like he always did, with a purpose and an air of confidence. It made Sans’s smile turn endearing. “Sup, bro?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT “SUP,” BROTHER!” Papyrus snapped, his voice still at its loudest volume. “IT’S BEEN EIGHT DAYS AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! YOU JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?!?”

“Staring at this lamp,” Sans easily supplied, gesturing lazily at the lamp the kid had hid behind. “It’s really cool. Do you wanna look?”

“NO!! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THAT!!” Papyrus shouted, stomping his foot. “WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH HERE!?! I WANT TO BE READY!!! I WILL BE THE ONE! I MUST BE THE ONE! I WILL CAPTURE A HUMAN!” Papyrus shifted his stance, a hand on his hip, a hand on his chest, and somehow his cape billowing dramatically behind him. Sans snorted on a laugh. His brother was the best. “THEN, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GET ALL THE THINGS I UTTERLY DESERVE! RESPECT…RECOGNITION…I WILL FINALLY BE ABLE TO JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD! PEOPLE WILL ASK, TO, BE MY, “FRIEND?” I WILL BATHE IN A SHOWER OF KISSES EVERY MORNING.”

“Hmm,” Sans offered, “maybe this lamp will help you.”

“SANS!! YOU ARE NOT HELPING!!” Papyrus stomped his foot. “YOU LAZYBONES!! ALL YOU DO IS SIT AND BOONDOGGLE! YOU GET LAZIER AND LAZIER EVERY DAY!!!”

Sans shrugged, a mischievous half grin on his face. “Hey, take it easy. I’ve gotten a ton of work done today.” He winked. “A skele-ton.”

Papyrus bristled. “SANS!!!”

“Come on. You’re smiling.”

“I AM AND I HATE IT!” Papyrus admitted. He sighed. “WHY DOES SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME HAVE TO DO SO MUCH JUST TO GET SOME RECOGNITION…”

Sans could not help himself. He felt his grin grow as he commented, “Wow, sounds like you’re really working yourself…down to the bone.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “UGH!!! I WILL ATTEND TO MY PUZZLES. AS FOR YOUR WORK? PUT A LITTLE MORE, BACKBONE INTO IT!!!! NYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”

Sans chuckled right along with his brother, so proud. Papyrus made his exit with that laugh and Sans’s chuckles died with the taller skeleton’s exit. He waited, watching Papyrus turn around briefly and give a final, “Heh!” before fully leaving. Once he was sure his brother was fully gone, he shifted his weight and his head to look at the lamp. “Ok, you can come out now.”

The kid wandered out from behind the lamp, cautious but clearly happy. The kid walked right up to him without a worry and Sans chuckled. “You oughta get going. He might come back. And if he does,” Sans winked, “you’ll have to sit through more of my hilarious jokes.” The kid smiled at that, but said kid didn’t look like they were planning on leaving any time soon. Sans’s smile fell a bit. “What’s the holdup?” The kid returned their attention to him, inadvertently showing their worry to him. He kicked his smile back up, offering honestly, “Look, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He winked, trying to get the kid to lighten up as an idea started to form in the back of his mind. “It’s just a dark cavern filled with skeletons and horrible monsters.” The kid’s face twisted up in conflict and Sans couldn’t help but arch an eye ridge at them. “Well?”

The kid looked up at him and nodded, determination on their face. With a wave goodbye, the kid was off, and Sans gave a huff of a laugh. The kid was definitely something else. Which could mean…

“Actually, hey,” he called out. The kid stopped, turning to look at him with a curious expression. “Hate to bother ya, but can you do me a favor? I was thinking, my brother’s been kind of down lately. He’s never seen a human before, and seeing you might just make his day. Don’t worry, he’s not dangerous,” Sans quickly informed the human, already seeing the worry reach into the human’s expression again, “even if he tries to be.”

There’s a pause before the human nodded in agreement. Sans felt a part of his soul ease at that. “Thanks a million. I’ll be up ahead.”

Sans waved goodbye and headed back to the bridge only to pull at the world and step up behind Papyrus.

“Hey, bro,” Sans called out, gaining his brother’s attention.

“SANS!” Papyrus commented, partially annoyed. “WHY ARE YOU NOT AT YOUR POST?”

Sans shrugged, smiling. “Aw, come on, bro. Our conversation conveniently reminded me you never finished your tale from earlier. The one about Undyne.”

“HONESTLY?” Sans nodded. Papyrus’s face lit up. “SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE–”

Movement from the path leading to the sentry station drew Papyrus’s attention, cutting his renewed story off. Sans watched Papyrus, already knowing who was approaching. The kid’s footfall was pretty unique. Sans looked to the kid when Papyrus looked back at him and looked to Papyrus when his brother returned his gaze to the human. They did this probably eight or nine times till they were spinning around, coming to a stop facing the human. Sans was trying very hard not to fall over as the world kept spinning. The fact that he was trying not to laugh wasn’t helping. Papyrus quickly spun Sans around the other way, rushing in what was as close to a stage whisper as Papyrus got, “SANS!! OH MY GOD!! IS THAT…A HUMAN!?!?!??!?!”

They turned back around and Sans, out of habit, couldn’t help but mess with his brother. “Uhhhh...Actually, I think that’s a rock.”

Papyrus deflated. “OH.”

Sans was quick to bring the wind back into Papyrus’s sails, though, asking, “Hey, what’s that in front of the rock?”

Papyrus lit up again, and Sans was very happy to see Papyrus so excited. “OH MY GOD!!!” Papyrus turned to Sans again and questioned in his not-so stage whisper, “IS…IS THAT A HUMAN?”

“Yes,” Sans supplied in a stage whisper.

“OH MY GOD!!! SANS! I FINALLY DID IT!! UNDYNE WILL-I’M GONNA-I’LL BE SO…POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!!” Papyrus paused before clearing his throat. Sans chuckled. Papyrus ignored him. “HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU!!! I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU! YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL! THEN…THEN!!!” Papyrus hesitated. “I’M NOT SURE WHAT’S NEXT.” Sans snorted as Papyrus didn’t let that little detail stop him. “IN ANY CASE! CONTINUE. ONLY IF YOU DARE!!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!”

Laughing, Papyrus hurried on ahead. Sans stayed put and watched his brother race off before turning to the human. “Well, that went well. Don’t sweat it, kid.” He winked. “I’ll keep an eye socket out for ya.”

With his last tidbit to the human, Sans turned and followed after his brother till he was out of sight of the human. A surge of magic and Sans was a good distance behind the human, out of sight but close enough to watch. He followed the human, watching as a Snowdrake came and started a fight. Sans found his smile slipping when the battle was started, watching as the controls and HP bar popped up for the human. Again, the sense of wrong washed through him but he ignored it for the most part. During the whole fight, the human never pressed FIGHT. Instead, they made bad ice puns and laughed at the Snowdrake’s jokes. Whatever worry Sans had about the human being dangerous was laid to rest. With a smile returning to his face, Sans warped the world around him.

Time seemed to vanish. Sans tailed the kid like he had promised, though he didn’t try overly hard to constantly keep the kid in his line of sight; seemed a bit much and way too much effort. He did keep with his brother for the most part till the kid left Snowdin. After that, it turned out the kid didn’t need him and Sans backed off, manning his stations or hanging with Papyrus. There were only two times that he met up with the kid purposely. One was when he gave the kid his warning at the too fancy of a restaurant.

The second time was when he Judged the kid.

Thankfully, thankfully, he didn’t have to act. The kid was dust free, EXP untouched, and he let the kid be. He teleported away, finding himself shaking, bones rattling. He wrapped his arms around his torso, not understanding the sudden reaction to whatever was going on. He hadn’t reacted like this to anything else.

He jumped when his phone rang and he fumbled at it. He let out a sigh, catching the familiar sight of his brother’s name. Pressing answer, he held the device to the side of his skull and dutifully answered. “Sup, bro.”

“SANS!!! GET TO THE CASTLE AS QUICK AS YOU CAN!! WE HAVE TO AID THE HUMAN!!!”

Sans smiled already hearing his brother’s footfall as the lanky skeleton ran towards him. “Huh. You don’t say. Guess it’s a good thing I’m already at the castle.”

Sans watched as Papyrus skidded to a stop not far from where Sans was out of direct view. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT THE CASTLE?!” Papyrus asked, staring incredulously at the device in his hand.

Sans stepped out of his spot as he pocketed his phone, shrugging, “Thought I’d catch the sights. It’s a beautiful day today.”

Papyrus stormed right up to him and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him along. “YOU CAN TELL ME ABOUT IT ON THE WAY. WE DO NOT WANT TO BE LATE AIDING THE HUMAN!!”

Sans couldn’t help the grin on his face as his brother released him in order to storm the room ahead. Sans followed, catching his brother’s words only due to his brother’s natural volume of loud.

“HEY! NOBODY FIGHT ANYONE! IF ANYONE FIGHTS ANYONE….THEN I’LL!!! BE FORCED!!! TO ASK UNDYNE FOR HELP!!!”

Sans chuckled, shaking his head. That was his brother for ya. Other things were said but he missed them as he slid into the room and greeted familiar and not so familiar faces. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

The one face he couldn’t put his finger on spoke up, though it wasn’t overly loud and almost sounded like she had said, “That voice!” The goat monster approached, happily greeting, “Hello, I think we may know each other?”

That alone made the first statement make a whole lot more sense as Sans grinned at her. “Oh hey…I recognize your voice, too.”

“I am Toriel,” she offered. “So nice to meet you.”

He couldn’t help but wink at her. “The name’s Sans, and, uh, same.”

“Oh! Wait, then…” she turned her attention to Papyrus and Sans’s expression became fond. “This must be your brother, Papyrus! Greetings, Papyrus! It is so nice to finally meet you. Your brother has told me so much about you.”

“WOWIE…I CAN’T BELIEVE ASGORE’S CLONE KNOWS WHO I AM!!! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!”

Sans chuckled. Only the Great Papyrus. Toriel spoke up again. “Hey, Papyrus…what does a skeleton tile his roof with?”

Sans had to swallow a laugh as Papyrus’s sockets narrowed. “HMMM…” the lankier skeleton voiced as he thought. “SNOW-PROOF ROOF TILES???”

“No, silly!” Toriel quickly replied. “A skeleton tiles his room with…shin-gles!!!”

Sans shared a grin with Toriel as Papyrus nearly lost his shit. “I CHANGED MY MIND!!! THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!”

From there it just went from funny to hilariously awkward as Mettaton appeared out of nowhere somewhere in all the chatter and encouraged Alphys and Undyne to kiss. Toriel’s reaction was probably his favorite, rushing to be between them and stop it, all in the name of not doing it in front of the kid.

Toriel, ever the warmhearted, turned her attention back onto the human child. “My child, it seems as if you must stay here for a while.” Sans forced the smile on his face to remain. Oh yeah. They had needed the human’s soul to pass through the barrier. “But looking at all the great friends you have made, I think….I think you will be happy here.”

The kid beamed at her, at all of them, but Sans couldn’t help the disappointment that wafted through him. He tensed, gaze quickly flicking towards the side. He thought he had seen a mass in the shadows but it seemed he was seeing things as Alphys spoke up. “H-hey, that reminds me. Papyrus…you called everyone here, right? Well, besides, uh, her. Uh, anyway…if I got here before you, how did you know how to call everybody?”

Sans honestly hadn’t thought about that and glanced at his brother. “LET’S JUST SAY…A TINY FLOWER HELPED ME.”

It was like his magic turned to ice around his bones but the sudden apprehension seemed unwarranted. Alphys’s reaction, though, only made the apprehension grow.

“A tiny…flower?” she asked, her voice quaking.

San felt every fiber of his being stand on end at that but he was unable to move as a large vine came through and smacked them all before smaller ones wrapped around each of them and tussled them up, feet off the ground. Pain rippled through him but it wasn’t enough to truly distract him from the conversation. A yellow flower popped up between them and the kid, said flower actually speaking. The kid was suddenly trapped and assaulted by bullets from the flower. Sans watched as the kid’s health fell down to one measly point before there was suddenly interference. And that interference came from Toriel herself.

“Do not be afraid, my child,” she spoke, her voice calm as the pain that had been running through them all stopped with the flower’s confusion. “No matter what happens, we will always be there to protect you!”

His brother and Undyne were next to step up to the plate. “THAT’S RIGHT, HUMAN! YOU CAN WIN!! JUST DO WHAT I WOULD DO: BELIEVE IN YOU!!!”

“Hey! Human!” Undyne called out with a toothy grin. “If you got past ME, you can do ANYTHING! So don’t worry! We’re with you all the way!”

“Huh? You haven’t beaten this guy yet?” Sans asked easily, the words flowing without him even needing to think about it. “Come on, this weirdo’s got nothin’ on you.”

Others stepped up magically and Alphys spoke up, “Technically, it’s impossible for you to beat him…b-but…somehow, I know you can do it!!”

Sans wasn’t quite sure how supportive that was.

“Human,” Asgore added, “for the future of humans and monsters…! You have to stay determined…!”

Suddenly the room was filling with all sorts of monsters, all of them encouraging the kid, and, for the briefest of moments, Sans believed that they actually had a chance of getting out of this. But then the flower called them all stupid, claiming their souls as pain rushed through Sans and the world turned white.

Somewhere, somehow, the barrier was destroyed.
He blinked, finding himself face down on a sheetless mattress. Panic flooded him as he bolted upright. What?! No! They had made it out. They had to have made it out! The kid had destroyed the barrier; they had all seen the light at the end of the cave.

Right?

He warped the world around him, pulling at it in desperation even as he couldn’t sort out the memories in his head. It had to have been real. He just accidentally teleported back home. Right?!

He hit the ground on his side, a tangled mess as he shifted an arm to push himself up enough to look at where the exit was.

The barrier was still there.

A sob shook him as his hand met resistance against the barrier. He covered his mouth, eye lights gone tears gathered in his sockets. He crumpled to the floor as he tried to muffle the emotions rolling through him.

This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair! He could not dream a dream like that only to wake up!

Magic exploded from him and the sudden unleash of magic combined with him drowning in emotions startled him enough that no damage was caused to the surrounding architecture. He shuddered, huddling against the barrier as he stared towards the only entrance into the space.

But nobody came.

He pulled at the world around him and returned to his bedroom. There was a dull thud as he missed the mattress and landed on the floor instead. He rubbed his sore shoulder as he moved to the mattress. Teleporting while emotionally compromised was not the wisest thing to do. It left him drained and more exhausted than he already was.

A dream.

He flopped forward onto the mattress, knees still on the floor by his bed. That it had been so real, so absolute; for him to wake up from it hurt the most. That kind of hope was dangerous. And to lose it…

He rubbed his face into the mattress, grateful as parts of the dream faded from his mind.

The sudden pounding at his door made him jump.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

Sans stared at the door in shock. “Five more minutes, Pap,” he called out in return, his voice lulling the words about in a manner that spoke of sleepiness he wasn’t feeling.

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. The chuckle that left him was almost involuntary. “TIME TO GET UP!”

“That was so kind of you, Pap,” he replied, getting up. The smile in his words didn’t show on his face. He grabbed whatever was closest and dressed. “You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

Heavy footfall fading away was enough for him to clue where his brother was heading. He stilled as he frowned down at the blue jacket in his hand. He couldn’t help but feel as if something was missing at the same time he was experiencing a very odd sense of déjà vu. Deciding to worry about it later, he tugged on a different shirt and cleaner shorts, though cleanliness was more relative in this case. When had he become such a slob?

The scent coming from the kitchen wafted to him as he stepped out of his room, closing his door securely behind him. As he made his way to the kitchen, the déjà vu didn’t leave, nor the feeling that something was really missing.

He stopped on the threshold of the kitchen, taking in his brother’s back as the taller skeleton tended to something on the stove. He frowned. Was that the only thing his brother wore now?

His frown deepened. Surely it wasn’t.

But even as he tried to rack his brain for something else his brother wore, nothing came to mind

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

“Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have,” Sans urged playfully, though there was no honesty to the emotion. It was like he was sprouting lines and that thought alone stopped him in his tracks. Hadn’t he used that analogy recently, regardless of its oddity?

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed and Sans was grateful the other was too busy focusing on cooking to notice Sans’s sudden mental distraction. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

The smile came easily as he rested his chin on his palm. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

The plate of spaghetti was placed before him with ease and Sans poked at it with his fork. He frowned, almost expecting a scent to touch him but none came. He grinned at his brother, commenting, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking about something in that loud voice of his but it was nothing more than background noise in his head. Something was missing. Even with it being early in the day he could tell something was off but, no matter how hard he thought about it, nothing came to mind. Just the really weird dream he had last night. He vehemently ignored the dream’s ending. No need to dredge that back up.

He hadn’t realized he had been eating till he took another bite and the bitterness washed over his senses. He swallowed the bite he had been consuming, shuddering at the taste. He put his fork down and keyed in to the one sided conversation.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Sans noticed that Papyrus hadn’t really touched his own place. Sans let that ease his smile bigger. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

Stepping out of the house only made him feel hollow and the flicker of a faint memory of vertigo made him tense automatically. It was faint but there was a phantom sense of wrong that settled in his soul as he turned to follow his brother. The sensation of his brother’s hands securely on his harms made him shudder.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

Sans blinked, looking up at Papyrus. He hadn’t realized he had come to a stop in the snow. “Yeah, bro,” he spoke, his words coming easily and the lie even easier. “Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him with a soft smile belaying his amusement and fondness. He glanced about, once more getting the phantom sensation of wrong but this one was much fainter than the last time and he easily pushed it away. There was nothing wrong. His dream just messed with him was all.

Sans pulled at the world around him, stepping up to his brother’s heel. He stumbled slightly, frowning. Odd. Why had that felt unnatural, like he was doing it wrong? He looked at his hand out of nothing better to frown at. He turned his hand over, racking his brain for anything that could shed a light on this sudden revelation but, as he went searching for information, horror started to settle into his bones. There were massive gaps in not only what he should know about the world around him, but in his memories as well. He had vague impressions of some things but, when he tried to think what he had done in the last few days, all that came back was his dream.

He came to a stop at the bridge as a sense of apathy settled over him, accompanied by déjà vu. It was foreign but welcomed as it stilled the oncoming panic attack. Even if breathing wasn’t a thing they needed to do to live, he took a deep, calming breath, grounding himself in the present so as not to tempt another panic attack. He focused back on his brother, spotting the lanky skeleton nearly cross the bridge. With no effort, he brushed the world around him with his magic and, as he took a step, he went from one end of the bridge to the other in the blink of an eye. Papyrus glanced back as his boots touched solid ground but the spent magic had already dissipated and Sans gave him a lazy grin as he continued to follow along. The apathy slowly seeped from him but the panic didn’t return, much to Sans’s relief.

The canine royal guards greeted them as they passed. Sans greeted them with words that came easily. When they reached the last puzzle – or the first, depending on the direction one traveled in – Sans looked to his brother, offering, “I’ll trek ahead and check on my post.”

“DON’T DILLY DALLY, SANS!! WE HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO!!!”

Sans chuckled and pulled at the world around him when Papyrus wasn’t looking. As used magic drifted away and dissipated, he let out a sigh and started to trudge down the path. He paused at his station as the strange sense of waking suddenly without knowing how he had gotten there. With a shrug, he continued on passed the oddly shaped lamp. He pulled at the world in increments but found that the walk was rather pleasant.

An interesting structure was barely peaking out of the fog further down the path. Sans’s peaked curiosity was enough to take a shortcut closer and he found himself standing beside a ravine that had an old bridge crossing it, a massive wooden structure that looked more like rectangular arches than a gate. He chuckled fondly as he passed underneath. Leave it to his brother to create the most interesting things. How could he have forgotten such a masterpiece done by his brother?

He found himself face to face with a stone door and exhaustion pulled at his bones as he pressed a hand to the structure. Looking about curiously, he picked a high branch and teleported to it, settling down with his back against the trunk and eye sockets sliding shut.

A low rumble of stone grating against stone filled the quiet forest. His gaze automatically drifted to the door set into the wall as his brain worked to wake up from his nap. He watched as a tiny human stepped out. Oh, he knew the figure wasn’t a monster. It was very obvious the tiny person was not a monster. But something about the human nagged at him, like he should know who they were.

He slipped from his branch. The world pulled around him, bending and stretching as he teleported so that he landed on the tough-looking branch the kid – it had to be a kid – had walked around as spend magic dissipated quickly; the surprise it seemed to cause in the human was amusing. He fell back a ways before shifting the world around him and returning to a few paces behind the kid. The kid stopped at the bridge and Sans slowly strolled up behind them.

He came to a stop just outside of arm’s reach, anticipation racing through him like adrenaline. An amused smirk pulled at his smile. “Human,” he states plainly, slowly. “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand.”

The words came easily and tasted familiar. The kid turned around slowly and he shuddered as déjà vu raced through his bones. He reached out, offering his hand to this human that had been labeled a danger by Asgore long before the human had ever fallen.

The kid took his hand.

The whoopee cushion deflated between their palms and Sans’s smile broke into a grin. “Heheh. The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It’s ALWAYS funny.” The kid gave a confused giggle as Sans tucked his hand back into his pocket. “Anyways, you’re a human, right? That’s hilarious.” He ignored the déjà vu as the words just tumbled from his mouth. “I’m Sans. Sans the Skeleton. I’m actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now. But…y’know…” Sans shrugged, “I don’t really care about capturing anybody. Now my brother, Papyrus, he’s a human-hunting FANATIC.” Motion over the kid's head drew Sans's attention briefly and his face lit up. He’d know that silhouette anywhere. “Hey, actually, I think that’s him over there.” He focused back on the kid, catching the tail end of their rotation to see what he was looking at. “I have an idea.” The kid looked back at him. “Go through this gate thingy.” The kid glanced at the gate, worry marring their expression. Sans nodded. “Yeah, go right through. My bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone.”

It was a breath, a moment that allowed Sans to watch as the kid’s worry turned into determination, before the kid turned right around and walked through the massive structure’s posts. Sans kept pace with them, following them through to the other side and then some. Surprisingly enough, the oddly-shaped lamp that was always next to his station was suddenly conveniently-shaped and very useful, especially with his brother heading their way. “Quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.”

The kid gave him a smile, trusting his word, and hurried to hide behind the lamp. Just in time, too. Papyrus came striding in like he always did, with a purpose and an air of confidence. It made Sans’s smile turn endearing. “Sup, bro?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT “SUP,” BROTHER!” Papyrus snapped, his voice at its loudest volume as it always seemed to be in. “IT’S BEEN EIGHT DAYS AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! YOU JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?!?”

“Staring at this lamp,” Sans easily supplied, gesturing lazily at the lamp the kid had hid behind. “It’s really cool. Do you wanna look?”

“NO!! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THAT!!” Papyrus shouted, stomping his foot. “WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH HERE!?! I WANT TO BE READY!!! I WILL BE THE ONE! I MUST BE THE ONE! I WILL CAPTURE A HUMAN!” Papyrus shifted his stance, a hand on his hip, a hand on his chest, and somehow his cape billowing dramatically behind him. Sans snorted on a laugh. His brother was the best. “THEN, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GET ALL THE THINGS I UTTERLY DESERVE! RESPECT…RECOGNITION…I WILL FINALLY BE ABLE TO JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD! PEOPLE WILL ASK, TO, BE MY, “FRIEND?” I WILL BATHE IN A SHOWER OF KISSES EVERY MORNING.”

“Hmm,” Sans offered, “maybe this lamp will help you.”

“SANS!! YOU ARE NOT HELPING!!” Papyrus stomped his foot. “YOU LAZYBONES!! ALL YOU DO IS SIT AND BOONDOGGLE! YOU GET LAZIER AND LAZIER EVERY DAY!!!”

Sans shrugged, a mischievous half grin on his face. “Hey, take it easy. I’ve gotten a ton of work done today.” He winked. “A skele-ton.”

Papyrus bristled. “SANS!!!”

“Come on. You’re smiling.”

“I AM AND I HATE IT!” Papyrus admitted. He sighed. “WHY DOES SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME HAVE TO DO SO MUCH JUST TO GET SOME RECOGNITION…”

Sans could not help himself. He felt his grin grow as he commented, “Wow, sounds like you’re really working yourself…down to the bone.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “UGH!!! I WILL ATTEND TO MY PUZZLES. AS FOR YOUR WORK? PUT A LITTLE MORE, BACKBONE INTO IT!!!! NYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”

Sans chuckled right along with his brother, so proud. Papyrus made his exit with that laugh and Sans’s chuckles died with the taller skeleton’s exit. He waited, watching Papyrus turn around briefly and give a final, “Heh!” before fully leaving. Once he was sure his brother was fully gone, he shifted his weight and his head to look at the lamp. “Ok, you can come out now.”

The kid came out from behind the lamp and walked right up to him, grinning. Sans chuckled. “You oughta get going. He might come back. And if he does,” Sans winked, “you’ll have to sit through more of my hilarious jokes.” The kid beamed and the words flowed freely from Sans. “What’s the holdup? Look, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He winked. “It’s just a dark cavern filled with skeletons and horrible monsters.” The kid giggled and Sans couldn’t help but arch an eye ridge at them. “Well?”

The kid looked up at him and nodded, determination and glee on their face. With a wave goodbye, the kid was off, and Sans gave a huff of a laugh. The kid was definitely something else.

“Actually, hey,” he called out without prompting. The kid stopped, turning to look at him with an almost expectant expression. “Hate to bother ya, but can you do me a favor? I was thinking, my brother’s been kind of down lately. He’s never seen a human before, and seeing you might just make his day. Don’t worry, he’s not dangerous, even if he tries to be.”

The human quickly nodded in agreement, giving Sans a thumbs up. Sans shifted his weight lazily. “Thanks a million. I’ll be up ahead.”

Sans waved goodbye and headed back to the bridge only to pull at the world and step up behind Papyrus.

“Hey, bro,” Sans called out, gaining his brother’s attention.

“SANS!” Papyrus commented, partially annoyed. “WHY ARE YOU NOT AT YOUR POST?”

Sans shrugged, smiling. “Aw, come on, bro. Our conversation conveniently reminded me you never finished your tale from earlier. The one about Undyne.”

“HONESTLY?” Sans nodded. Papyrus’s face lit up. “SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE–”

Movement from the path leading to the sentry station drew Papyrus’s attention, cutting his story off. Sans watched Papyrus, already knowing who was approaching. The kid’s footfall was pretty unique. Sans looked to the kid when Papyrus looked back at him and looked to Papyrus when his brother returned his gaze to the human. They did this probably eight or nine times till they were spinning around, coming to a stop facing the human. Sans was trying very hard not to fall over as the world kept spinning. The fact that he was trying not to laugh wasn’t helping. Papyrus quickly spun Sans around the other way, rushing in what was as close to a stage whisper as Papyrus got, “SANS!! OH MY GOD!! IS THAT…A HUMAN!?!?!??!?!”

They turned back around and Sans, out of habit, couldn’t help but mess with his brother. “Uhhhh...Actually, I think that’s a rock.”

Papyrus deflated. “OH.”

Sans was quick to bring the wind back into Papyrus’s sails, though, asking, “Hey, what’s that in front of the rock?”

Papyrus lit up again, and Sans was very happy to see Papyrus so excited. “OH MY GOD!!!” Papyrus turned to Sans again and questioned in his not-so stage whisper, “IS…IS THAT A HUMAN?”

“Yes,” Sans supplied in a stage whisper.

“OH MY GOD!!! SANS! I FINALLY DID IT!! UNDYNE WILL-I’M GONNA-I’LL BE SO…POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!!” Papyrus paused before clearing his throat. Sans chuckled. Papyrus ignored him. “HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU!!! I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU! YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL! THEN…THEN!!!” Papyrus hesitated. “I’M NOT SURE WHAT’S NEXT.” Sans snorted as Papyrus didn’t let that little detail stop him. “IN ANY CASE! CONTINUE. ONLY IF YOU DARE!!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!”

Laughing, Papyrus hurried on ahead. Sans stayed put and watched his brother race off before turning to the human. “Well, that went well. Don’t sweat it, kid.” He winked. “I’ll keep an eyesocket out for ya.”

With his last tidbit to the human, Sans turned and followed after his brother till he was out of sight of the human. A surge of magic and Sans was a good distance behind the human, out of sight but close enough to watch. He followed the human, watching as a Snowdrake came and started a fight. He watched as the battle started, the controls popping up for the human. During the whole fight, the human never pressed FIGHT. Instead, they made bad ice puns and laughed at the Snowdrake’s jokes. Whatever concern Sans may have had about the human’s wellbeing was laid to rest. Sans warped the world around him.

Time seemed to vanish. Sans kept with his brother for the most part till the kid left Snowdin. It was fun watching his brother’s reaction to the human. After that, Sans sporadically tailed the kid, manning his stations or hanging with Papyrus if he lost the kid for a bit. He found it was easiest to just be at his stations. There were only two times that he went out of his way to be with the kid. One was when he gave the kid his warning at the too fancy of a restaurant.

The second time was when he Judged the kid.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have to act. The kid was dust free, EXP untouched, and he grinned at the kid, oddly proud. He teleported away, feeling mildly odd. Strange. Why did it feel like something was missing?

His phone rang and he pulled it out, catching his brother’s name. Pressing answer, he held the device to the side of his skull and dutifully answered. “Sup, bro.”

“SANS!!! GET TO THE CASTLE AS QUICK AS YOU CAN!! WE HAVE TO AID THE HUMAN!!!”

Sans smiled already hearing his brother’s footfall as the lanky skeleton ran towards him. “Huh. You don’t say. Guess it’s a good thing I’m already at the castle.”

Sans watched as Papyrus skidded to a stop not far from where Sans was out of direct view. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT THE CASTLE?!” Papyrus asked, staring incredulously at the device in his hand.

Sans stepped out of his spot as he pocketed his phone, shrugging, “Thought I’d catch the sights. It’s a beautiful day today.”

Papyrus stormed right up to him and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him along. “YOU CAN TELL ME ABOUT IT ON THE WAY. WE DO NOT WANT TO BE LATE AIDING THE HUMAN!!”

Sans couldn’t help the grin on his face as his brother released him in order to storm the room ahead. Sans followed, catching his brother’s words only due to his brother’s natural volume of loud.

“HEY! NOBODY FIGHT ANYONE! IF ANYONE FIGHTS ANYONE….THEN I’LL!!! BE FORCED!!! TO ASK UNDYNE FOR HELP!!!”

Sans chuckled, shaking his head. That was his brother for ya. Other things were said but he missed them as he slid into the room and greeted familiar and not so familiar faces. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

The one face he couldn’t put his finger on spoke up, though it wasn’t overly loud and almost sounded like she had said, “That voice!” The goat monster approached, happily greeting, “Hello, I think we may know each other?”

That alone made the first statement make a whole lot more sense as Sans grinned at her. “Oh hey…I recognize your voice, too.”

“I am Toriel,” she offered. “So nice to meet you.”

He couldn’t help but wink at her. “The name’s Sans, and, uh, same.”

“Oh! Wait, then…” she turned her attention to Papyrus and Sans’s expression became fond. “This must be your brother, Papyrus! Greetings, Papyrus! It is so nice to finally meet you. Your brother has told me so much about you.”

“WOWIE…I CAN’T BELIEVE ASGORE’S CLONE KNOWS WHO I AM!!! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!”

Sans chuckled. Only the Great Papyrus. Toriel spoke up again. “Hey, Papyrus…what does a skeleton tile his roof with?”

Sans had to swallow a laugh, anticipation rolling through him, as Papyrus’s sockets narrowed. “HMMM…” the lankier skeleton voiced as he thought. “SNOW-PROOF ROOF TILES???”

“No, silly!” Toriel quickly replied. “A skeleton tiles his room with…shin-gles!!!”

Sans shared a grin with Toriel as Papyrus nearly lost his shit. “I CHANGED MY MIND!!! THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!”

From there it just went from funny to hilariously awkward as Mettaton appeared out of nowhere somewhere in all the chatter and encouraged Alphys and Undyne to kiss. Toriel’s reaction was probably his favorite, rushing to be between them and stop it, all in the name of not doing it in front of the kid.

Toriel, ever the warmhearted, turned her attention back onto the human child. “My child, it seems as if you must stay here for a while.” Sans found it surprisingly easy to keep the smile on his face. Oh yeah. They had needed the human’s soul to break through the barrier. “But looking at all the great friends you have made, I think….I think you will be happy here.”

The kid beamed at her, at all of them and Sans merely gave a grin back. He tensed, suddenly on guard as Alphys spoke up. “H-hey, that reminds me. Papyrus…you called everyone here, right? Well, besides, uh, her. Uh, anyway…if I got here before you, how did you know how to call everybody?”

Sans glanced at his brother, trying really hard not to reach out like he wanted to. What in the world was causing him to suddenly be expecting an attack? “LET’S JUST SAY…A TINY FLOWER HELPED ME.”

It was like his magic turned to ice around his bones but the sudden dread seemed unwarranted. Alphys’s reaction, though, only made the dread grow.

“A tiny…flower?” she asked, her voice quaking.

San felt every fiber of his being stand on end at that but he was unable to move as a large vine came through and smacked them all before smaller ones wrapped around each of them and tussled them up, feet off the ground. Pain rippled through him but it wasn’t enough to truly distract him from the conversation. A yellow flower popped up between them and the kid, said flower actually speaking. The kid was suddenly trapped and assaulted by bullets from the flower. Sans watched as the kid’s health fell down to one measly point before there was suddenly interference. And that interference came from Toriel herself.

“Do not be afraid, my child,” she spoke, her voice calm as the pain that had been running through them all stopped with the flower’s confusion. “No matter what happens, we will always be there to protect you!”

His brother and Undyne were next to step up to the plate. “THAT’S RIGHT, HUMAN! YOU CAN WIN!! JUST DO WHAT I WOULD DO: BELIEVE IN YOU!!!”

“Hey! Human!” Undyne called out with a toothy grin. “If you got past ME, you can do ANYTHING! So don’t worry! We’re with you all the way!”

“Huh? You haven’t beaten this guy yet?” Sans asked, the words flowing without a thought to them. “Come on, this weirdo’s got nothin’ on you.”

Others stepped up magically and Alphys spoke up, “Technically, it’s impossible for you to beat him…b-but…somehow, I know you can do it!!”

Sans was tempted to roll his eyes good naturedly at her not very supportive comment.

“Human,” Asgore added, “for the future of humans and monsters…! You have to stay determined…!”

Suddenly the room was filling with all sorts of monsters, all of them encouraging the kid, and, for the briefest of moments, Hope warred against the dread still grasping at Sans’s soul. A part of him knew it was pointless to Hope. Things were only going to get worse instead of better. Sure enough, the flower called them all stupid, claiming their souls as pain rushed through Sans and the world turned white.

Somewhere, somehow, the barrier was destroyed.
Sans let out a groan, startled yet somehow not surprised to find himself face down on a sheetless mattress. The familiar panic flooded his system but he pushed it down as he shoved at the mattress, gaze snapping around the room. This was all too familiar to be a coincident. His supposed “dream” was too crisp for it to be a mere “dream”, especially now that he could distinctly recall waking up the same way from a very similar “dream” already.

He frowned and pulled at the world around him. He staggered on his sock covered feet, not quite awake enough to handle the sudden change in position mid shortcut, but at least he didn’t end up on his face.

The barrier was still there.

Grief washed through him but this time no sobs ripped themselves from his chest as he took in the barrier. His knees gave out as he touched it, the grief he was feeling almost nothing compared to the phantom grief he could feel echoing it. He looked about but there seemed to be no evidence to what Sans had been experiencing. Feeling exhausted, Sans teleported back to his room.

He rummaged through the belongings in his room, looking for anything that could be of use. He found a small notebook buried underneath a mound of clothing and he sneered at the mess. When had he become such a slob? He flipped through the pages. All but the first few were blank and what covered the first pages looked to be complicated notes. He frowned down at the equations scrawled across the paper. It looked like high level math and there were notes scrawled in the margins and the rest of the page around any math that appeared. From what he gathered, it looked like some sort of science. Most likely theoretical but he wasn’t sure how much of that was just him pulling answers out of thin air. Maybe if there was a workspace of some kind-

Sudden pounding at his door made him jump.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

Sans blinked at the door. “Five more minutes, Pap,” he called out, his voice lulling the words about in a manner that spoke of sleepiness he wasn’t feeling.

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. The chuckle that left him was involuntary. “TIME TO GET UP!”

“That was so kind of you, Pap,” he replied. The smile in his words didn’t show on his face as he dressed. “You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

Heavy footfall fading away informed him his brother wasn’t hovering. He stilled as he frowned down at the blue jacket in his hand. Déjà vu was probably the closest thing he could put towards what he was feeling but it wasn’t quite right. The “dream” wasn’t fading and seemed to only increase his remembrance of the previous “dream”. He needed time to write all this down. Shoving the notebook into a pocket of the blue jacket, he frowned at the shorts he was about to tug on. Cleanliness was certainly a relative term in the case of his clothing.

The scent coming from the kitchen wafted to him as he stepped out of his room, closing his door securely behind him out of apparent habit.

He stopped on the threshold of the kitchen as if anticipating something, but, seeing as he remembered his “dreams” and that these “dreams” were too much like the present, the only thing he was anticipating were his brother’s words.

He briefly noted his brother’s attire, the same outfit he had seen at least twice now.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

“Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have.” The words were playful and urging but they lacked any real thought to them. He hadn’t even been able to recall his response till the words had left him. He was starting to question his own sanity, even as he could have parroted Papyrus’s next words.

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

The smile came easily as he rested his chin on his palm. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

The plate of spaghetti was placed before him with ease and Sans poked at it with his fork. Yep, same as last time. It even looked the same. He mentally groaned. This was weird. He grinned at his brother nonetheless and commented, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking about something in that loud voice of his but it was nothing more than background noise in his head. He discretely touched the notebook in his pocket, wondering if what he had in mind would even work. If he kept “waking up”, would that mean that what he wrote would be erased? Or was he in some sort of temporal loop and the notebook would be dragged along with him?

He shuddered, grateful when it seemed Papyrus hadn’t noticed. If he was in a temporal loop and what he was experiencing was a sort of resetting, he needed to figure out why it was resetting to him waking up face down in a sheetless mattress.

He also needed to figure out when he became such the scientist but that was a low priority. If the notebook was anything to go by, he’s had some dealings in science for quite some time, meaning he may have a workspace. He just had to find it.

He hadn’t realized he had been eating till he took another bite and the familiar bitterness washed over his senses. It somehow seemed less revolting than the last time. He swallowed the bite he had been consuming, still shuddering at the taste. He put his fork down and keyed in to the one sided conversation.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Sans noted that Papyrus hadn’t really touched his own place. His smile grew bigger on its own. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

Stepping out of the house, Sans took the moment to look towards the underground’s ceiling. There was still a sense of claustrophobia scraping at his soul but this was the first time in two resets he had looked up so he may just be getting used to the ceiling seeming closer than normal.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ARLIGHT?”

Sans blinked, looking up at Papyrus. “Yeah, bro,” he spoke, his words coming easily and the lie even easier. “Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him with a soft smile belaying his amusement and fondness. Despite it all, his brother’s reactions were a familiarity he hoped would never change, even if the jokes were the same, horrible taste.

He came to a stop at the bridge as mild weariness pulled at him. Aw, so that would explain the apathy last run. Apparently, he didn’t have much stamina and, while he hadn’t used as much magic as the last run, physical action seemed to be just as draining as emotional turmoil. Great. Another thing to add to his list of things to keep in mind. He focused back on his brother, spotting the lanky skeleton almost at the other end of the bridge. With no effort, he brushed the world around him with his magic and, as he took a step, he went from one end of the bridge to the other in the blink of an eye. Papyrus glanced back as his boots touched solid ground but the spent magic had already dissipated and Sans gave him a lazy grin as he continued to follow along. The weariness didn’t leave and, while Sans had every intent of spending what little time he had before the human showed up – if his growing suspicion that this was a temporal loop was true – he may end up napping without his own consent.

The canine royal guards greeted them as they passed. Sans greeted them with words that came easily. When they reached the last puzzle – or the first, depending on the direction one traveled in – Sans looked to his brother, offering, “I’ll trek ahead and check on my post.”

“DON’T DILLY DALLY, SANS!! WE HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO!!!”

Sans chuckled and pulled at the world around him when Papyrus wasn’t looking. As used magic drifted away and dissipated, a stronger wave of weariness rushed his bones. He leaned heavily on his station, taking the moment to collect himself and push through the very strong urge to sleep. He had things to do and very little time to do it in.

Pulling at the world around him once more, he landed on a high branch and settled down with his back against the trunk. He didn’t even get a chance to touch the notebook as sleep overtook him.

A low rumble of stone grating against stone filled the quiet forest. His gaze automatically drifted to the door set into the wall as his brain worked to wake up from his inconvenient nap. He watched as the human stepped out. Despite having a hunch that he was in a temporal loop, he could not remember the kid’s name or their face.

He slipped from his branch. The world shifted around him, bending and stretching as he teleported so that he landed on the tough-looking branch the kid had walked around as spend magic dissipated quickly; the surprise it seemed to entice – whether out of anticipation or true surprise – was still amusing. He fell back a ways before shifting the world around him and returning to a few paces behind the kid. The kid stopped at the bridge and Sans slowly strolled up behind them.

He came to a stop just outside of arm’s reach, anticipation racing through him like adrenaline. An amused smirk pulled at his smile. “Human,” he states plainly, slowly. “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand.”

The words came easily. The kid turned around slowly but it was clear that the kid wanted to just whip around and take his hand. He reached out, offering his hand to this human that had been labeled a danger by Asgore long before the human had ever fallen.

The kid took his hand.

The whoopee cushion deflated between their palms and Sans’s smile broke into a grin. “Heheh. The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It’s ALWAYS funny.” The kid gave a happy little giggle as Sans tucked his hand back into his pocket. “Anyways, you’re a human, right? That’s hilarious. I’m Sans. Sans the Skeleton. I’m actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now. But…y’know…” Sans shrugged, “I don’t really care about capturing anybody. Now my brother, Papyrus, he’s a human-hunting FANATIC.” Motion over the kid's head drew Sans's attention briefly and his face lit up. He’d know that silhouette anywhere and would always be glad to see it. “Hey, actually, I think that’s him over there.” He focused back on the kid, catching the tail end of their rotation to see what he was looking at. “I have an idea.” The kid looked back at him. “Go through this gate thingy.” The kid glanced at the gate, at ease. Sans nodded. “Yeah, go right through. My bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone.”

The kid turned right around and walked through the massive structure’s posts. Sans kept pace with them, following them through to the other side and then some. The conveniently-shaped lamp was still by his station, awaiting to be useful. “Quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.”

The kid gave him a smile and hurried to hide behind the lamp. Just in time, too. Papyrus came striding in like he always did, with a purpose and an air of confidence. It made Sans’s smile turn endearing. “Sup, bro?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT “SUP,” BROTHER!” Papyrus snapped, his voice at its loudest volume as it always seemed to be in. “IT’S BEEN EIGHT DAYS AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! YOU JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?!?”

“Staring at this lamp,” Sans easily supplied, gesturing lazily at the lamp the kid had hid behind. He caught the soft sound of giggles. “It’s really cool. Do you wanna look?”

“NO!! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THAT!!” Papyrus shouted, stomping his foot. “WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH HERE!?! I WANT TO BE READY!!! I WILL BE THE ONE! I MUST BE THE ONE! I WILL CAPTURE A HUMAN!” Papyrus shifted his stance, a hand on his hip, a hand on his chest, and somehow his cape billowing dramatically behind him. Sans snorted on a laugh. His brother was the best. “THEN, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GET ALL THE THINGS I UTTERLY DESERVE! RESPECT…RECOGNITION…I WILL FINALLY BE ABLE TO JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD! PEOPLE WILL ASK, TO, BE MY, “FRIEND?” I WILL BATHE IN A SHOWER OF KISSES EVERY MORNING.”

“Hmm,” Sans offered, “maybe this lamp will help you.”

“SANS!! YOU ARE NOT HELPING!!” Papyrus stomped his foot. “YOU LAZYBONES!! ALL YOU DO IS SIT AND BOONDOGGLE! YOU GET LAZIER AND LAZIER EVERY DAY!!!”

Sans shrugged, a mischievous half grin on his face. “Hey, take it easy. I’ve gotten a ton of work done today.” He winked. “A skele-ton.”

Papyrus bristled as another soft round of giggles came from behind the lamp. “SANS!!!”

“Come on. You’re smiling.”

“I AM AND I HATE IT!” Papyrus admitted. He sighed. “WHY DOES SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME HAVE TO DO SO MUCH JUST TO GET SOME RECOGNITION…”

Sans could not help himself. He felt his grin grow as he commented, “Wow, sounds like you’re really working yourself…down to the bone.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “UGH!!! I WILL ATTEND TO MY PUZZLES. AS FOR YOUR WORK? PUT A LITTLE MORE, BACKBONE INTO IT!!!! NYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”

Sans chuckled right along with his brother, so proud. Papyrus made his exit with that laugh and Sans’s chuckles died with the taller skeleton’s exit. He waited, watching Papyrus turn around briefly and give a final, “Heh!” before fully leaving. Once he was sure his brother was fully gone, he shifted his weight and his head to look at the lamp, spotting the kid peaking out at him. “Ok, you can come out now.”

The kid came bounding out from behind the lamp and right up to him, grinning. Sans chuckled. “You oughta get going. He might come back. And if he does,” Sans winked, “you’ll have to sit through more of my hilarious jokes.” The kid beamed and the words flowed freely from Sans. “What’s the holdup? Look, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He winked. “It’s just a dark cavern filled with skeletons and horrible monsters.” The kid giggled and Sans couldn’t help but arch an eye ridge at them. “Well?”

The kid looked up at him and nodded, determination and glee on their face. With a wave goodbye, the kid was off, and Sans gave a huff of a laugh. The kid was definitely something else.

“Actually, hey,” he called out without prompting. The kid stopped, turning to look at him with an almost expectant expression. “Hate to bother ya, but can you do me a favor? I was thinking, my brother’s been kind of down lately. He’s never seen a human before, and seeing you might just make his day. Don’t worry, he’s not dangerous, even if he tries to be.”

The human quickly nodded in agreement, giving Sans a thumbs up. Sans shifted his weight lazily. “Thanks a million. I’ll be up ahead.”

Sans waved goodbye and headed back to the bridge only to pull at the world and step up behind Papyrus.

“Hey, bro,” Sans called out, gaining his brother’s attention.

“SANS!” Papyrus commented, partially annoyed. “WHY ARE YOU NOT AT YOUR POST?”

Sans shrugged, smiling. “Aw, come on, bro. Our conversation conveniently reminded me you never finished your tale from earlier. The one about Undyne.”

“HONESTLY?” Sans nodded. Papyrus’s face lit up. “SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE–”

Movement from the path leading to the sentry station drew Papyrus’s attention, cutting his story off. Sans watched Papyrus as the kid approached. Sans looked to the kid when Papyrus looked back at him and looked to Papyrus when his brother returned his gaze to the human. They did this probably eight or nine times till they were spinning around, coming to a stop facing the human. Sans was trying very hard not to fall over as the world kept spinning. The fact that he was trying not to laugh wasn’t helping. Papyrus quickly spun Sans around the other way, rushing in what was as close to a stage whisper as Papyrus got, “SANS!! OH MY GOD!! IS THAT…A HUMAN!?!?!??!?!”

They turned back around and Sans, out of habit, couldn’t help but mess with his brother. “Uhhhh...Actually, I think that’s a rock.”

Papyrus deflated. “OH.”

Sans was quick to bring the wind back into Papyrus’s sails, asking, “Hey, what’s that in front of the rock?”

Papyrus lit up again, and Sans was very happy to see Papyrus so excited. “OH MY GOD!!!” Papyrus turned to Sans again and questioned in his not-so stage whisper, “IS…IS THAT A HUMAN?”

“Yes,” Sans returned.

“OH MY GOD!!! SANS! I FINALLY DID IT!! UNDYNE WILL-I’M GONNA-I’LL BE SO…POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!!” Papyrus paused before clearing his throat. Sans chuckled. Papyrus ignored him. “HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU!!! I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU! YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL! THEN…THEN!!!” Papyrus hesitated. “I’M NOT SURE WHAT’S NEXT.” Sans snorted as Papyrus didn’t let that little detail stop him. “IN ANY CASE! CONTINUE. ONLY IF YOU DARE!!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!”

Laughing, Papyrus hurried on ahead. Sans stayed put and watched his brother run off before turning to the human. “Well, that went well. Don’t sweat it, kid.” He winked. “I’ll keep an eyesocket out for ya.”

With his last tidbit to the human, Sans turned and followed after his brother till he was out of sight of the human. A surge of magic and Sans was a good distance behind the human, out of sight but close enough to watch. He followed the human, watching as a Snowdrake came and started a fight. He watched as the battle started, the controls popping up for the human. During the whole fight, the human never pressed FIGHT. Instead, they made bad ice puns and laughed at the Snowdrake’s jokes. Whatever concern Sans may have had about the human’s wellbeing was laid to rest. Sans warped the world around him.

Time seemed to vanish. Sans kept with his brother for the most part till the kid left Snowdin. It was fun watching his brother’s reaction to the human. After that, Sans sporadically tailed the kid, manning his stations or hanging with Papyrus if he lost the kid for a bit. He found it was easiest to just be at his stations. There were only two times that he went out of his way to be with the kid. One was when he gave the kid his warning at the too fancy of a restaurant.

The second time was when he Judged the kid.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have to act. The kid was dust free, EXP untouched, and he grinned at the kid, oddly proud. He teleported away, feeling mildly odd. Strange. Why did it feel like something was missing?

His phone rang and he pulled it out, catching his brother’s name. Pressing answer, he held the device to the side of his skull and dutifully answered. “Sup, bro.”

“SANS!!! GET TO THE CASTLE AS QUICK AS YOU CAN!! WE HAVE TO AID THE HUMAN!!!”

Sans smiled, already hearing his brother’s footfall as the lanky skeleton ran towards him. “Huh. You don’t say. Guess it’s a good thing I’m already at the castle.”

Sans watched as Papyrus skidded to a stop not far from where Sans was out of direct view. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT THE CASTLE?!” Papyrus asked, staring incredulously at the device in his hand.

Sans stepped out of his spot as he pocketed his phone, shrugging, “Thought I’d catch the sights. It’s a beautiful day today.”

Papyrus stormed right up to him and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him along. “YOU CAN TELL ME ABOUT IT ON THE WAY. WE DO NOT WANT TO BE LATE AIDING THE HUMAN!!”

Sans couldn’t help the grin on his face as his brother released him in order to storm the room ahead. Sans followed, catching his brother’s words only due to his brother’s natural volume of loud.

“HEY! NOBODY FIGHT ANYONE! IF ANYONE FIGHTS ANYONE….THEN I’LL!!! BE FORCED!!! TO ASK UNDYNE FOR HELP!!!”

Sans chuckled, shaking his head. That was his brother for ya. Other things were said but he missed them as he slid into the room and greeted familiar and not so familiar faces. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

The one face he couldn’t put his finger on spoke up, though it wasn’t overly loud and almost sounded like she had said, “That voice!” The goat monster approached, happily greeting, “Hello, I think we may know each other?”

That alone made the first statement make a whole lot more sense as Sans grinned at her. “Oh hey…I recognize your voice, too.”

“I am Toriel,” she offered. “So nice to meet you.”

He couldn’t help but wink at her. “The name’s Sans, and, uh, same.”

“Oh! Wait, then…” she turned her attention to Papyrus and Sans’s expression became fond. “This must be your brother, Papyrus! Greetings, Papyrus! It is so nice to finally meet you. Your brother has told me so much about you.”

“WOWIE…I CAN’T BELIEVE ASGORE’S CLONE KNOWS WHO I AM!!! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!”

Sans chuckled. Only the Great Papyrus. Toriel spoke up again. “Hey, Papyrus…what does a skeleton tile his roof with?”

Sans had to swallow a laugh, anticipation rolling through him, as Papyrus’s sockets narrowed. “HMMM…” the lankier skeleton voiced as he thought. “SNOW-PROOF ROOF TILES???”

“No, silly!” Toriel quickly replied. “A skeleton tiles his room with…shin-gles!!!”

Sans shared a grin with Toriel as Papyrus nearly lost his shit. “I CHANGED MY MIND!!! THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!”

From there it just went from funny to hilariously awkward as Mettaton appeared out of nowhere somewhere in all the chatter and encouraged Alphys and Undyne to kiss. Toriel’s reaction was probably his favorite, rushing to be between them and stop it, all in the name of not doing it in front of the kid.

Toriel, ever the warmhearted, turned her attention back onto the human child. “My child, it seems as if you must stay here for a while.” Sans found it surprisingly easy to keep the smile on his face. Oh yeah. They had needed the human’s soul to break through the barrier. “But looking at all the great friends you have made, I think….I think you will be happy here.”

The kid beamed at her, at all of them and Sans merely gave a grin back. He tensed, suddenly on guard as Alphys spoke up. “H-hey, that reminds me. Papyrus…you called everyone here, right? Well, besides, uh, her. Uh, anyway…if I got here before you, how did you know how to call everybody?”

Sans glanced at his brother, trying really hard not to reach out like he wanted to. What in the world was causing him to suddenly be expecting an attack? “LET’S JUST SAY…A TINY FLOWER HELPED ME.”

It was like his magic turned to ice around his bones but the sudden dread seemed unwarranted. Alphys’s reaction, though, only made the dread grow.

“A tiny…flower?” she asked, her voice quaking.

San felt every fiber of his being stand on end at that but he was unable to move as a large vine came through and smacked them all before smaller ones wrapped around each of them and tussled them up, feet off the ground. Pain rippled through him but it wasn’t enough to truly distract him from the conversation. A yellow flower popped up between them and the kid, said flower actually speaking. The kid was then trapped and assaulted by bullets from the flower. Sans watched as the kid’s health fell down to one measly point before there was suddenly interference. And that interference came from Toriel herself.

“Do not be afraid, my child,” she spoke, her voice calm as the pain that had been running through them all stopped with the flower’s confusion. “No matter what happens, we will always be there to protect you!”

His brother and Undyne were next to step up to the plate. “THAT’S RIGHT, HUMAN! YOU CAN WIN!! JUST DO WHAT I WOULD DO: BELIEVE IN YOU!!!”

“Hey! Human!” Undyne called out with a toothy grin. “If you got past ME, you can do ANYTHING! So don’t worry! We’re with you all the way!”

“Huh? You haven’t beaten this guy yet?” Sans asked, the words flowing without a thought to them. “Come on, this weirdo’s got nothin’ on you.”

Others stepped up magically and Alphys spoke up, “Technically, it’s impossible for you to beat him…b-but…somehow, I know you can do it!!”

Sans was tempted to roll his eyes good naturedly at her not very supportive comment.

“Human,” Asgore added, “for the future of humans and monsters…! You have to stay determined…!”

Suddenly the room was filling with all sorts of monsters, all of them encouraging the kid, and, for the briefest of moments, Hope warred against the dread still grasping at Sans’s soul. A part of him knew it was pointless to Hope. Things were only going to get worse instead of better. Sure enough, the flower called them all stupid, claiming their souls as pain rushed through Sans and the world turned white.

Somewhere, somehow, the barrier was destroyed.

Sans wanted to tear the mattress beneath him to shreds.
The tears stung but he swallowed hard against the grief drowning him. He shoved at his bed, pushing down on the anger, frustration, the grief, with all he had so that he could think. He had to think. He didn’t have time. He couldn’t waste the precious few minutes he had before Papyrus showed up to wake him.

Grabbing the too bright blue fabric of the jacket, he dug into the pocket and nearly sobbed when his hunting fingers closed around the notebook. He pressed it close to his chest, the fabric of the coat holding against his unrelenting grip. Good. No, this was really good. It meant there was a high probability that whatever he shoved into the pockets would remain outside the timeline like he was.

The cover of the notebook crunched slightly as his grip tightened. The only way to prove that, though, was to write on the pages within and that meant he needed something to write with.

He got up. The coat fell onto the mattress but the notebook was kept pinned under a hand against his chest. He threw things all over the place, not caring in the slightest where it all fell till a thought occurred to him, slowing his movement briefly.

It would be a test, a rather good test in fact, if he changed his room as best he could. Suddenly determined, he strategically threw items towards the walls and his bed, clearing the center of the floor. Along the way, he found a key sitting next to the only pen he found to work. He tucked the key into one of the coat’s pockets without much thought, sitting on the edge of the mattress with pen in one hand, the notebook in the other.

The book fell open to the last page with writing on it. There was still room to write and, without knowing how much would change if the world reset again, he used the paper sparingly.

reset 3(r3) – viable evidence trapped in temporal loop (here’s to hoping this is trapped with me)
third(?) wake up facedown/mattress after barrier breaks(?) – no memory actually seeing broken barrier – wake up location consistent, at least
keep to short hand as best as possible – no time
no signs of others remembering reset to reset yet
unknown amount of influence on loop – will pap remember if told
room set for reset test
FIND SPACE THAT RE

Sudden pounding on his door made him jump, striking a heavy line of ink across the page.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he called out, his voice lulling the words about in a manner that spoke of sleepiness he was not feeling. Counter to his tone, a frown marred his face as he quickly finished scrawling:

FIND SPACE THAT REMAINS SAME

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. The chuckle that left him was involuntary but not unwelcomed. It eased some of the tension he was feeling. “TIME TO GET UP!”

The words were there, ready to be spoken without a thought, but a spark of spontaneity hit him, as did the need to know if he could even go against the “script” laid out before him. “Thanks Pap,” he replied, the words endearing. He had to focus but it seemed possible as he added, “I’m getting up.”

“HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

There was no need to listen to his brother’s footfall as Sans looked back at the notebook in hand.

script changeable but takes effort – does not seem to affect the script of others – need to test more

He tapped the pen against the edge of the book. He was going to have to be careful. If he wanted to figure out how to get out of this, he was going to have to find anomalies. But if he broke the script, it would only add to the amount of anomalies there. Additionally, he didn’t actually know the script. He knew roughly the general idea – though it was all pretty vague and anything that he had remembered from the last timeline had already hazed over like a dream – but not knowing the script intricately meant that he could miss things.

Magic turned to ice on his bones. If he had had hair, it would have stood on end. Out of the corner of his eye, in the corner of his room, was a figure dressed in black with an odd black and white face watching him. It was fuzzy, unfocused, and all he could make out was the vague shape of head and body. Snapping his gaze to the spot, his nonexistent insides twisted.

The corner was bare. There was no one there, nothing to cause a trick of the eye, no way anyone could have just been standing there so straight and still without tripping over the mount of things in that given corner. Panic and adrenaline rushed through his system, causing his body to react in a way that was disconcerting.

Especially since he could no longer remember what it was that had caused the reaction.

Turning back to the journal, he rushed a quick line:

something in northeast corner – scared me – nothing there when focused on – can’t recall what i thought i had seen

He shoved the notebook into the designated coat pocket, pen acting like a bookmark. He yanked the same cloths on automatically and stepped outside his room.

The scent coming from the kitchen wafted up to him as he closed his door securely behind him. He let out a soft sigh, already tired. If this wasn’t a reset and all of that had just been the strangest dream in his life, he would not be complaining.

A very large part of him didn’t hold any hope to that thought.

He stopped on the threshold of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as he looked the space over. It all looked the same. Papyrus was still wearing his battle body and making spaghetti like the last runs. He couldn’t remember if anything was in a different place but figured it would come with time if he was truly stuck in a temporal loop. He hoped not.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!”

He had to bite back the words of the script before he was able to answer his own way. “I’m not hungry,” he said, watching Papyrus closely. “I was thinking of just heading out.”

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

There had been no reaction to the new words, no disappointment, no relief, no nothing. It was like the words he had spoken hadn’t even affected the script. Now, granted, his words had indeed allowed that answer to pass, but it was still a rather conclusive test. He sat down at the table, resting his chin on his palm. “Watermelon sock puppets,” he tried in lieu of acknowledging Papyrus’s words.

Yep. Not even a twitch as Papyrus put the plate of spaghetti before him. Sans poked at it with his fork. Still the same, for all he could tell. Weariness coursed through him and he grinned at his brother as he fell back into the script without a fight, commenting, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking about something but it was nothing more than background noise. His mind wandered, most of his thoughts sticking to the resets and what could possibly be causing them. A headache started to pulse behind his left eye but he ignored it to the best of his abilities. He wasn’t a scientist. He didn’t know how to even begin to deal with an anomaly when he found one. If he found one.

His fingers brushed the notebook in his pocket. Actually, that may not be totally accurate. If the book was indeed his as the handwriting made it seem, he had some rather intense know-how when it came to science in some aspect. May not be in whatever field was required to deal with time anomalies, but at least it would be a start.

He wondered briefly if he had a lab and if it was outside the resets like the coat pockets were.

He hadn’t realized he had been eating till he took another bite and the familiar bitterness washed over his senses. It had lost some of its revulsion, to which Sans was immensely grateful for. He swallowed the bite he had been consuming, able to suppress the shudder this time. He put his fork down and keyed into the one sided conversation.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Sans noted that Papyrus hadn’t touched his own plate much. Sans’s smile grew bigger at that. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

Stepping out of the house, Sans took the moment to look towards the underground’s ceiling. Claustrophobia scraped at his soul but he found it rather easy to ignore.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

Sans blinked, looking up at Papyrus. It would seem that the morning had worn him out more than he had thought. He made a mental note not to go against the script like that till he was able to nap directly afterwards. The exhaustion clinging to his bones made his limbs feel ten times heavier. “Yeah bro,” he spoke, the words flowing easily. “Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at that and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him with a soft smile belaying his amusement and fondness. Despite it all, his brother’s reactions were a familiarity he hoped would never change, even if the jokes were the same, horrible taste.

As had happened in the previous resets, Papyrus glanced back at him briefly at the end of the bridge and the canine royal guards greeted them as they passed. Sans went with the script, greeting them with some predestined acknowledgment. When they reached the last puzzle – or the first, depending on the direction one traveled in – Sans looked to his brother, offering, “I’ll trek ahead and check on my post.”

“DON’T DILLY DALLY, SANS!! WE HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO!!!”

Sans smiled gently and pulled at the world around him when Papyrus wasn’t looking. As used magic drifted away and dissipated, black swam at the edge of his vision, forcing him to either lean heavily on his station or face plant into the snow. He chose the one that kept snow out of his sockets.

The spell lasted only a moment and Sans was soon able to straighten up and pull at the world once more. He settled on a familiar high branch with his back against the trunk without much movement on his part. He let out a sigh that sounded more like a groan and he succumbed to sleep without a fight.

A low rumble of stone grating against stone filled the quiet forest. His gaze automatically drifted to the door set into the wall as his brain worked to wake up from his nap, still exhausted. He watched as the kid stepped out.

He frowned. Did the kid look more scared than last time?

He slipped from his branch and landed on the tough-looking branch the kid always walked around as spent magic dissipated quickly. The kid’s reaction seemed a bit more spooked than normal but he fell back anyways, letting the script guide his actions.

The kid came to a stop at the bridge and Sans slowly strolled up behind them, taking his time to come just out of arm’s reach of the kid. An amused smirk pulled at his smile. “Human,” he stated plainly, slowly. “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand.”

The kid turned around slowly. Nope, yep, there was definitely more fear than last time coming off the kid. He was not making it up. Well, he was pretty certain at least. If nothing else, it meant that the kid either was out of the loop like Sans was or was the anomaly. Sans internally snorted at the latter. How could a kid be a temporal anomaly?

The kid took his hand, deflating the whoopee cushion Sans couldn’t recall putting on his palm. The smile on his face broke out into a grin nonetheless. “Heheh. The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It’s ALWAYS funny.” The kid gave a happy little giggle and Sans lost whatever it was he had been thinking about.

His welcoming speech went as it normally did with nothing new happening. In fact, nothing new happened from when he met the kid to when the kid left Snowdin for Waterfall. He did discover a nifty little tidbit by pure accident.

Sans manned both his station and the telescope as he normally did as the kid traversed Wasterfall. But during a lull between stations, he got caught up staring at the pages of notes in the notebook for far longer than the allotted time held. One minute he was at his Snowdin station, the next he was in Waterfall. He hadn’t even initiated a shortcut. He was just there. Briefly startled, he pocketed the notebook with a curious look around. He was curious on how he had ended up there only to see the kid.

His previous thought of the kid being the anomaly was suddenly looking very probable and Sans didn’t know what to do with that. If nothing else, the kid had something on them that was causing the anomaly.

His ability to move without a script was sporadic after that point, gaps of time where he was able to mill about on his own. He didn’t press his luck, though, keeping close to where he needed to be. Exhaustion turned to pain very quickly the more he pushed against the script and Sans was not up for dealing with pain.

He would figure out the timing. He had to.

He also had to figure out if the kid was the anomaly, or if it was something on their person.

The things scrawled on the pages were unfamiliar but it was clearly his handwriting. Though he didn’t understand most of it, it helped him think larger picture at least. Theoretically speaking, especially with no viable evidence going towards his theory, it seemed possible that an item could cause a temporal loop if everything was set up right and the same for it being a person. But that also brought up the point of the actual cause of a temporal loop to begin with. With not knowing the cause, he could not speculate much farther on what was keeping him trapped in the loop.

All these thoughts, inconsistent or even crossed out, were jotted down in the notebook. It didn’t seem like there was anything else he could do.

Time vanished and before he knew it, he was Judging the kid. For the first time since all this chaos started, his soul felt like it had stopped.

The kid had killed.

It wasn’t much EXP but it was there. He could see it. The kid looked like they were going to cry and that eased what fear had touched his soul. He gave the kid a grin, words falling free reassuring them that they needed to just learn from their mistakes and not do it again. Accidents happen and he wasn’t about to fault the kid on that.

But it did mean that somehow, someway, the kid was out of the temporal loop like he was, or he was no longer sticking with his own timeline and was jumping timelines.

The latter thought scared him the most.

The events that followed were the same. The script didn’t change. It was still nice, though, to see Toriel and the others, to watch as the room was filled with all sorts of monsters, all of them encouraging the kid as they went up against the thorn known as Flowey, and Hope touched him briefly even as the logical part of his mind was betting on another reset. The world turned white.

Somewhere, somehow, the barrier was destroyed.

The emotions rolling through him were nothing compared to the burst of anxiety that hit him. He was face first on his sheetless mattress once more and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to look. One the one hand, his room being unchanged from when he had shoved everything about would be a promising sight but if it all had reset…

Knowing he lacked time, he shoved at the mattress and looked over.

He wasn’t sure what slammed into him, what emotion rolled about his soul most, but the physical recoil from the room being reset was real. He reached out without a thought, grabbing at the too bright blue fabric he was coming to rely on as a lifeline. He pulled the notebook out, finding the pen stuck between the pages like a bookmark. He let it fall open.

The sob caught him off guard and he curled around the notebook as he pressed a hand against his mouth to silence any more sobs.

There, on the open pages, were all his notes from the last reset.

He wasn’t sure if he was crying because of relief or dread. He didn’t care. He shoved the emotions away as he snatched up the pen. With a shaky hand that steadied slowly, he began to write.

r4 – fourth wake up facedown/mattress after barrier breaks – still no memory seeing barrier gone – wake up location still consistent
room failed reset test
kid had exp – one kill

The pen stilled. What else was there to write? Anything? He had already notated his thoughts about the kid either being the anomaly or carrying whatever is causing said anomaly during the previous reset.

He looked up when Papyrus pounded on his door, a weary expression on his face.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he called out, his voice lulling the words about in a manner that spoke of sleepiness he wasn’t feeling. Whelp. Here was to another reset.

r5 – fifth wake up facedown/mattress after barrier breaks – no memory seeing barrier gone – wake up location same
same exp
scent in waterfall – familiar but can no longer place it

Gods he hated this.

r7 – no memory of barrier gone – location same
same exp

Somehow he was grateful for the same things happening over and over again. Made it easier to keep track of everything

r10 – no memory – local same
more exp – two kills?
fairly certain i heard a voice – can’t remember the words

He opened his sockets slowly, face down in the mattress once more.

r11 – no – same
same exp – most likely two kills, hard to gauge

Groaning, he rolled over and fell softly onto the floor. The too blue coat was right where he expected it to be, within reach of an out stretched hand.

r15 – no – same
same exp
shadow in waterfall

He pulled it close and dug out the notebook. It was looking a bit worse for wear after so many resets. The book fell open to the bookmarked page, the pen still snug between the pages. With his notes having become so short, he had every reset since the 15th on one page. His gaze settled on the latest one.

r23 – no – same
exp increase – three kills
script memorized

He sighed, rubbing at his face. Twenty-three resets. So many that he wasn’t able to really keep them all separate in his head. He knew there had been a lot but keeping this running tally was certainly helping. He picked up the pen and wrote:

r24 – no – same
same exp

Pulling the coat back onto his lap, he pocketed the notebook, frowning when his fingers clattered with something metal. Turning his hand over, he pulled out a key. Funny, he couldn’t recall knowing what door the strip of metal belonged to, let alone when he had shoved it into the pocket. He could feel magic around it, though. It was faint but he could make out the tell tale signs of a magical tether. He frowned. Odd. Why would a key be magically tethered to its door?

Papyrus pounded on his door and he spared the abused wood a glance.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he called out, his voice lulling the words about in a manner that spoke of sleepiness.

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. Sans chuckled. “TIME TO GET UP!”

“That was so kind of you, Pap,” he replied, getting up. He started to dress. “You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

Not waiting for his brother’s footsteps to disappear completely, Sans gripped the key. From one second to the next, he found himself face to face with a door. A look around revealed he was, indeed, at the back of his house and for the briefest of moments he let his incredulous feeling about the fact there was a door at the back of his house this entire time that he had somehow forgotten flood through him. He shoved the emotion away and inserted the key into the lock.

It turned.

With a click, the door unlocked and swung open to reveal stairs that led down into some unknown space. Swiping his hand over the light switch, the lights flickered on as he took the stairs as quickly as he dared. He didn’t have time to be leisurely.

He stepped into a sparse lab.

Relief was weird in this situation but he had no time to really explore. Trying the drawers, he found they were easy to pull all the way out and he placed all of them on the counter. It would have to be enough for a test this run.

He pulled at the world, appearing in the kitchen doorway. He walked nonchalant to the table, sitting down as his brother noticed him right on time.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

“Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have.”

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

The smile came easily as he rested his chin on his palm. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

The plate of spaghetti was placed before him and Sans grinned at his brother and commented, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking about something in that loud voice of his but it was nothing more than background noise in his head.

All his thoughts were centered on the lab. If the lab was outside the temporal loop, it would give him someplace private to work. He would have to test a few things to see if items placed in the space became separate from the loop like the pockets of his jacket but the initial reset test was first.

He hoped that it worked; that the space was truly separate from the resets.

He put his fork down as he swallowed the bite he had been consuming, finding more comfort than revulsion in the pasta compared to earlier runs, and keyed in to the one sided conversation.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Papyrus hadn’t really touched his own place and Sans’s smile grew a bit more endearing. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

Stepping out of the house, Sans took the moment to look towards the underground’s ceiling. Seemed to be his habit now, but the claustrophobia that poked at his soul was more of a comfort than a nuisance. Kinda like Papyrus’s spaghetti. Sans had stopped being claustrophobic within the first 10 resets but the phantom memory of its choking grip helped make him feel not so crazy.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ARLIGHT?”

Sans lulled his head to the side to look lazily at his brother, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, bro,” he spoke. “Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him with a soft smile belaying his amusement and fondness. His brother’s reactions never changed and he looked forward to each one coming.

Slowly but surely the timeline progressed and Sans found no flaws in the script. He sighed, trudging through the snow through Snowdin. If he was right, his brother will be finishing up his interaction with the human soon, meaning that Sans was going to be needed for his comic relief here in a bit.

“Sans.”

Sans jumped, whipping around to stare at the path he had just walked as adrenaline prickled the magic along his bones. He frantically searched for the voice that had just whispered in his ear but there was no one near him in the softly drifting snow, not to mention that his foot prints were the only ones in the soft powder.

“Hurry.”

Dread drenched his bones in ice as he spun around to face the path leading to where Papyrus and the human were supposed to be having their “confrontation”. There was no one there but the urgency in the voice had caused such a reaction that Sans pulled at the world frantically.

He found himself in the midst of the fog that had briefly settled over the path towards Waterfall.

“Papyrus!” he called out, his voice cracking. He swallowed and called out again. “Papyrus! Kid!”

A soft sound caught his attention and he turned, listening. Was that…was someone crying? He was fairly certain he could hear sniffling and he made his way towards it. For the briefest of moments, Papyrus and the human were on the back burner.

It didn’t matter in the end.

He came to a space that looked a bit roughened up. He could make out some of the markings in the ground to be his brother’s handy work but he couldn’t see his brother anywhere. There was a sniffle to his right and he looked over, gaze dropping towards the ground.

His soul stopped as the human looked up at him.

The blaster went off without him even realizing he had summoned it, the red of his brother’s scarf shining bright in the human’s dust covered hands.
He hit the floor with a thud, magic reeling as he jumped to his feet and found himself not in the middle of the path to Waterfall, but in his room with his magic solidifying into attacks all around him.

The pounding on his door made him jump for the first time in a very long time.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he automatically replied, his voice not even quaking as he noticed the back of his sockets stung.

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. “TIME TO GET UP!”

“That was so kind of you, Pap. You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

He rubbed at his sockets to make the stinging go away only to find his hand wet with the magical equivalent of tears for skeletons. He grabbed at the nearest cloth and rubbed vigorously at his face to rid the traces of him crying.

He collapsed to his knees, shaking, as he choked on a sob. Stars above, the human had killed. The human had killed his brother and he had been too late. He had been-

He took in a sharp breath, shoving the random piece of laundry aside and grabbed at his coat. He yanked out the notebook and let it fall open.

r25 – kid killed pap
reset after i took kid out – still bedroom
disembodied voice sent me after pap and kid – may be going crazy
have to warn pap

He shoved the notebook back into its pocket and teleported down to the kitchen. “Pap, we need to talk.”

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

Dread rushed through him. “No, Papyrus, I’m serious. We need to talk.”

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

He flinched, swallowing hard at another wave of tears. He resisted pressing the heel of a hand against his left socket. There was no use in crying and he could ignore the growing headache. “Papyrus, please.”

The plate of spaghetti was placed before his spot and Sans gave into the script with a dejected sigh, sitting down. “This looks great, Pap,” he offered meekly. “Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking about something in that loud voice of his but it was nothing more than background noise in his head.

He went through the motions of eating a few bites before putting his fork down and cutting in to the one sided conversation when he was supposed to.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

There was no change when they stepped out of the house when compared to the other timelines. Sans let his head fall back, feeling far more exhausted than he should probably be.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ARLIGHT?”

He looked to his brother. “Yeah, bro,” he spoke. “Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him. As they traversed along the path, Sans wondered what would happen if he just killed the kid outright. Would it do anything? He could try for a few runs. Would make him feel better. Would be an interesting experiment as well, all things considered. But if the kid was killed and the world reset, did that answer whether it was the kid or an object that was manipulating the timeline? Probably not but, as he found himself face down on his mattress, he fought the urge to unleash as much magic he had into the surrounding space and destroy it. It wasn’t like it was going to stay that way.

He wallowed in the emotion and urge for far longer than he probably should have. With a sigh, Sans sat up and grabbed his jacket. He pulled the notebook out and it fell open. He plucked the pen from the notebook and wrote:

r26 – warning pap was pointless
abnormal reset, unknown cause – still bedroom

There was pounding on his door.

The resets were consistent with only one thing after that: their restart point. For whatever reason, Sans always found himself waking to the view of his mattress. He wondered how long that would be as he sat up and grabbed for his jacket. His fingers tangled in the fabric and he pulled it close enough to get the notebook out. It fell open, revealing well worn pages and nearly half a book filled with scrawls. He picked up the pen he was using and filled in the new entry.

r102 – neutral
kid’s controlling resets, dt involved

Hey, at least something new had happened, but the information was not comforting to say the least. There was nothing he could do. He had done a good amount of researching in hopes of discovering what it was that was causing all the resetting but any information he had been able to locate was limited. It would seem, though, that he had some amount of knowledge on the subject, even if he couldn’t even remember a life outside the resets.

His nonexistent stomach gnawed at him. Must be time for breakfast.

Sure enough, there was pounding on his door.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he replied.

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO! TIME TO GET UP!”

“That was so kind of you, Pap. You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

He listened to his brother’s footsteps just because he could. As they disappeared down the stairs, he stood up and dressed. He was glad he didn’t have to worry about laundry, though it would make for a bit of entertainment. He wondered what would happen if he went down in the wrong cloths?

No, wait, he had tried that already. Somewhere before the 100th mark if he wasn’t mistaken. He had tried both the craziest outfit he could think of and no outfit at all. Somewhere between his bedroom and the kitchen, he would be washed with a sense of vertigo and suddenly be in his proper attire. A shame, really. He would have loved to have been able to get odd reactions out of the kid.

Breakfast transpired as it always did but he was glad for the food. Even tasted good this time around. That or he had officially lost his sense of taste. Would not surprise him.

Kid came out covered in dust.

He sighed, rubbing at his face. Whelp, it would seem that this run wasn’t going to be a pacifist run either. At least there hadn’t been a true genocide run yet. While he had taken the kid out a few times, he had found it futile. Kid reset almost instantly every time he hit outside the script. Though, that did leave him rather concerned. When exactly was he permitted to actually try and take the kid out? Was he just meant to stand by idly and watch the kid take everyone out?

Papyrus hadn’t been touched in runs and Sans hoped it stayed that way.

It seemed his 1 HoPe was working against him.

Everyone was dust.

From the ruins to Snowdin, there wasn’t a single monster left that hadn’t been taken out by the kid. All that had been warned in time had evacuated to New Home but those that had remained behind were no more. A phantom presence walked beside him as he trekked after the kid towards the spot his brother would be confronting them at. He tried hard not to look at the figment of his imagination. Right now, the fake presence seemed to sooth some part of his frayed nerves about the situation.

He was fairly certain that meant he had long since lost his mind in all this.

He arrived in time to see the final action taken by the human and Sans couldn’t help but hold his breath. A make or break decision, the one decision he was fearing.

The kid spared Papyrus.

Sans released his breath, nearly sobbing. For one more reset, Papyrus lived.

The world reset after the kid had passed through the Judgment Hall.

r184 – neutral
phantom presence prior to Papyrus being killed.
presumably, asgore took the kid out
there potentially two personalities or something? a difference between pacifist and homicidal?

Sans ran a hand over his skull. He wondered how many resets he would have to go through to find out the answer to that particular question.

r192 – first true genocide – reset point judgment hall
kid easily taken out

r194 – genocide – judgment hall
kid’s only resetting back far enough to take me on

208 – genocide – judgment hall
kid lasted quite a bit this go round – got a bit worried in there
glad i don’t actually have to eat or anything

246 – genocide – judgment hall
i think the kid’s learning my moved but i can’t seem to remember what i do in the previous timeline to change things up

r287 – genocide – judgment hall
kid’s learning the attacks i'm repeating

r302 – genocide – judgment hall
i miss pap

346 – genocide – judgment hall
kid got close to killing me

r386 – genocide - judgment hall
kid killed me

His hand was shaking so bad that he wasn’t even sure if his note was even legible. He still felt as if he was dusting on the spot. He lost some meal he didn’t remember having, expelled magic splattering against the golden tile.

His breath was shaky but he could feel the kid. After so long, he knew where exactly in the hall the kid was at all times. He straightened up, gritting his teeth against the need to vomit, to run, to cry as the kid started to approach their place.

He appeared before the kid like always, spoke to the kid like always. His speech had shortened to something pathetic. Seemed his script adapted with time.

He managed to kill the kid.

He woke face first in his mattress.

He jolted upright, bewildered. What-

Throwing himself to the side, Sans grabbed at his jacket and pulled it to him. He yanked out the notebook and opened it roughly. There, laid out in poor scrawling, were all the resets where the kid had been fighting him, even his last note of the kid having killed him.

Sans shuddered, working to forget that. He ran a hand over his face, trying to deny the fact that his hand was shaking before he picked up the pen and wrote the next entry.

r387 – genocide - bedroom
killed the kid, been a while since this reset point

The pounding on his door made him jump, a Gaster Blaster materializing at his side in the blink of an eye, ready to fire.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

Sans blinked at the door as the words fell out without his bidding. “Five more minutes, Pap.” He had forgotten…

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. “TIME TO GET UP!”

“That was so kind of you, Pap. You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

Relief was weird as he listened to his brother’s footfall disappear down the stairs. He had been through so many runs with the kid trying to kill him that, one, he was clearly still jumpy and, two, he had forgotten what he had been fighting for. He had forgotten about Papyrus. It would seem being stuck in a script meant he stopped listening to the words he said.

He dressed quickly and teleported downstairs. His appearance was right on time and his brother glanced his way as he entered the kitchen.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

“Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have.” The words were playful and urging and he filled them with as much love and adoration as he could muster. It was all he could do, especially seeing as he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if this was an actual reset at the moment.

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

The smile came easily and true as he beamed at his brother. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

The plate of spaghetti was placed before him with ease and Sans happily dug in, feeling as if he hadn’t eaten in days. It tasted like heaven. “This is great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking. Sans listened, absorbing every word like it was the first time, letting the melody of his brother’s boisterous voice fill him. But, like everything else, there was a time limit.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

They stepped out of the house and Sans took the moment to take in the town. It left him feeling nostalgic to see the town so full of life. He couldn’t even remember the last run he had seen this.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ARLIGHT?”

He looked to Papyrus, smiling. “Yeah, bro. Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him, completely content with the moment. As they traversed along the path, Sans greeted those they passed joyously. Eventually, they reached the point where Sans went on ahead by himself. Here, Sans took a slow exit, keeping his brother in sight till he could no longer. With a heavy soul, he teleported to his spot.

The sound of stone grating on stone echoed through the trees and Sans had to keep from unleashing an attack right then and there. Just seeing the kid threw him back into the previous timelines and it was hard not to fight the script set out before him. But as he watched the kid, there was no dust on them and they interacted with him as if nothing had happened. As the timeline progressed, Sans started to heavily doubt this wasn’t a dream.

The timeline reset. Sans was face first against his mattress. He was so confused. Sitting up, he grabbed the notebook out of his jacket pocket and entered a new entry.

r388 – pacifist - bedroom
what in the world is going on?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

r389 – pacifist - bedroom
again?
shadow disappeared behind a pillar in judgment hall

r402 – genocide – judgment hall
pacifist and neutral runs may have been reprieve?

r426 – neutral - bedroom
kid’s messing with me
multiple personalities or different kid in same body, not sure which i want to actually be right

r438 – genocide – judgment hall
kid’s at it again

r442 – genocide – bedroom

r449 – neutral – bedroom

r453 – pacifist – bedroom
pacifist – frisk

r468 – genocide – judgment hall

r503 – genocide - bedroom
homicide – chara

He closed the notebook, frowning at it. So there was one question half answered. It would seem the human had two personalities at minimum and two souls at max. He wasn’t which of those he preferred but he knew one thing:

He hated Chara.

r526 – pacifist – bedroom
black mass following me – vanishes when i focus on it, always there out of the corner of socket

Frisk was a sweet, caring kid with a soul of gold and seemed to much prefer being a pacifist than a murderer. Chara was like their shadow, their evil twin. When Chara was the one in control of the run, Sans found that the script was changing around their dialogue. Frisk never really talked. At least, not that he remembered hearing. Chara was chatty and they were getting more boisterous and cocky as the timelines progressed.

r537 – neutral – hotlands sentry station
new reset location – little weird
abnormal reset – didn’t even make it to judgment hall
mass out of corner of eye upon wake up

Chara really liked killing him over and over as time progressed.

r559 – pacifist – somewhere in waterfall
abnormal – barely passed waterfall

He was becoming numb to getting sliced across the chest.

r599 – genocide – judgment hall
25th death in a row
black thing out of corner of socket is shaped like a person now – dubbed phantom just for kicks

He was becoming numb to the feeling of dusting.

r648 – genocide – middle of snowdin forest
chara’s toying with me

Chara stepped out of the ruins this go round. There wasn’t much dust on their hands but Sans had long since discovered that amount of dust did not equate to kills.

He closed his sockets and felt what little hope he had for the timeline vanish.

r699 – genocide – bedroom
frisk is missing

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had seen Frisk in control of the body but it was well over 100 resets and he was beginning to not care anymore. Whether personality or separate soul, Sans couldn’t tell, but he was getting real sick and tired of having Chara about, not that there was much he could do about it.

Chara was growing more vicious. They were breaking script constantly, though it seemed the script around them adapted. They had long since stopped with consistent reset locations and Sans now found himself resetting to the middle of conversations he couldn’t even remember starting. He crunched his way through the snow, fuming. Being suddenly dumped into a conversation he could handle, but Chara seemed get under his skin and he didn’t even have any! It was infuriating on how just a few words from the psychopath would drive him up the wall where others saying similar things would hardly draw his attention. A bad run prior and the psychopath reset back to the edge of some conversation Sans derailed because he was still in fight mode. Made a scene and everything and he couldn’t help but wallow in annoyance and self pity for the small stretch of privacy had had hiking through Snowdin forest before teleporting home.

Out of the corner of his socket, the phantom was sitting on top of an outcropping of rock. Sans ignored it, even as he got a whiff of cigarette smoke as he stepped passed.

With a voice shifting from a soft, deep voice to something airy and high only to settle halfway between at the end, the phantom challenged, “Babysitting’s a pain, ain’t it?”

It was like something snapped within him. Whether the blasted thing was real or not, regardless if the voice was nothing more than in his head trying to keep him somewhat sane in all this chaos, he retaliated. His left pupil burst to life with magic and he pulled at the snow around him. Creating snowballs magically was difficult. They were flimsy but put well enough together that they held form for what he needed. The phantom dodged one but the second one had the phantom leaning to the right, arm coming up to protect its face though there was none for Sans to really see. There was no rock to put a hand on and it fell off the outcrop it had been sitting on. Sans chucked snowball after snowball at it even as it laughed and tried to get away from him. It slipped and he chucked a snowball at the tree. It impacted with enough force that a branch unloaded a heap of snow onto the phantom.

Hands buried deep inside his jacket, hood fur brushing his cheeks, he walked over to the phantom as his left pupil returned to normal. Odd, he never thought that his phantom would actually be real enough for snowballs to have effect. But looking at the phantom made it vanish for whatever reason so even now his gaze was off to one side as the phantom sat up. It shifted and he got the sudden sense that it was beaming at him. It was an odd feeling and the supposed smile was rather contagious. If nothing else, it made him realize how childish he had been. He reached down, feeling stupid for helping up a figment of his imagination but finding it too late to pull back his hand.

The phantom hand felt solid in his and it was like a veil was removed from his mind as he pulled – for whatever use it would be – and helped the figure up. Standing before him was a solid person dressed in attire that did not fit the situation and with one too many layers to have him comfortable. The figure’s gloved hand left his, the fabric as white as the shirt the figure wore. Though mostly a black suit, the overcoat and pants were clearly a different black to the coat and shoes, both of which were a blue based black. It rather made his head hurt trying to think about it. The tie was a dark red to the point of being black and the vest was, thankfully, gray. He hadn’t even been aware there were so many variants of black. Made the figure’s red hair stand out even more, even with a mask on the phantom’s head rather than their face. Speaking of, Sans wasn’t even sure if he was speaking to a person of gender or not. They were clearly human and as solid as he was, but he was fairly certain they were not real. If they were real, though, then something was definitely wrong with the world he was in.

The figure beamed at him, chuckling, and he couldn’t help the smile in return. The veil leaving had him remembering the phantom’s presence and though a headache grew beneath his temples, he was glad that he at least already knew the phantom to some extent. For one, he knew they were an absolute snarky dork and it was a relief to have some humor in all this, even if it came from his own broken mind.

“Better?” the figure asked.

He shrugged. “More or less. Yer a pain in the ass, you know that?”

The figure laughed and Sans felt less stupid talking to himself for it. “Hey, you’re looking at me outright now so I’m not complaining.”

Sans’s expression fell as he took stock of his memories, the figure pulling a new cigarette out of somewhere and lighting it. Sure enough, whatever had been preventing him from perceiving the figure had lifted. He could recall every instant he had seen them, which brought to mind, “Who and what are you exactly? Are you really a figment of my imagination or are you something more?”

The figure took a drag of their cigarette as he spoke. They pulled the cigarette from between their lips and slowly released the smoke. “How bout we go somewhere more comfortable to talk, shall we?”

From one instant to the next, Sans found himself sitting at Grillby’s bar with not a monster in sight. Sans found his hand around a bottle of ketchup and his companion sitting beside him, taking another long drag from their cigarette as they traced the rim of a glass full of some sort of alcohol.

Sans gave them a look and they chuckled, releasing the pull they had taken. “You’d be surprised on what I can do, Sans. After all, I am both real and a figment of your imagination.” His look shifted to a flat one and the figure had the gall to actually laugh at him. He got waved off as the figure rested their chin on their palm, elbow braced on the counter. “I am here for none but you, Sans. We’re going to get well acquainted while you’re here.”

A frown pulled at his teeth. “What do you mean?”

The figure’s expression quickly became serious. “Your world is going to start decaying if it hasn’t already. You’ll be noticing it more as time progresses. A single timeline can handle only so much manipulation and you know that.”

He did. For whatever reason, what the figure was saying was both new and old news to him. Thing was, he had never really thought too heavily on that particular information before and now that he had, he felt stupid for not having thought of it. He downed half of the ketchup bottle in one go. It tasted weird after so long of not drinking it. He made a face. He was losing his enjoyment of the condiment and the thought was mildly depressing.

“I am only repeating what you already know, Sans,” the figure reminded him as the bottom of the bottle connected with the counter.

“Do you know how it’s all going to end?” he tested, looking their way. The figure only had eyes for the glass they were rolling about on its rim.

“I’m not omniscient, Sans,” the figure drawled, their words suddenly sharp. Sans flinched from the sudden change. “I only know what you know and what you pretend not to know. I point out things from an outsider’s position because you asked for it.”

The ketchup bottle paused nearly to his teeth and he blinked, processing that. He slowly lowered the bottle, frowning. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice coming off a bit gravelly. “I never asked for this.”

The figure smirked and Sans tensed. The edges of the room started to dim unnaturally and the figure sat up straight. “Whelp, would seem our time is up.” They looked back at him, raising their glass in a toast as they offered, “You asked for answers. This is your mind’s way of giving them to you. Good luck understanding them. You’ll need it.”
Sans woke up face down on his mattress. He bolted upright, looking about.

Nobody was there.

Relaxing a bit, he grabbed his notebook and let it fall open.

r700 – neutral - bedroom
met my phantom – not sure how i feel about that – real or am i going mad?

“Fairly certain you’re mad.”

Sans nearly leapt out of his cloths, taking a tumble to the clothing covered floor. There was a string of giggles from somewhere but as he pushed himself into a seated position, his brother pounded on the door.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he replied, eyes roaming his room.

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO!” his brother countered. “TIME TO GET UP!”

He got up slowly, anticipating something but not overly sure what. “That was so kind of you, Pap. You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

Sans took the chance and glanced at the door as Papyrus left. As he turned back around, he gave an undignified yelp and fell backwards, tripping over laundry. There was a dull thud of his body hitting the floor.

Another string of giggles, this set completely different from the other and it was unnerving. “Seems you’re a touch jumpy there, Sans.”

Sans glared at the figure. “I think I preferred not being able to look at you. Or remember you,” he grumbled, working to stand up. The figure held out a hand and, after a brief bit of consideration, Sans took the held up. The figure passed him his coat and notebook and he took them without a word.

“You’d get curious eventually,” the figure countered, their voice some odd vocal range muffled by a rather creepy mask. Sans did his best to keep his eyes on the figure. There was a quirk to the following words that made Sans think the figure was grinning. “I like ‘phantom’. Close to my name already, I’m impressed.”

“You’re name is similar to phantom,” Sans asked, not believing the figure as he pulled on a proper shirt.

The figure huffed, amused, and suddenly there was a name in Sans’s head. He froze, pupils pinpricks as they focused on the figure. The mask’s grin seemed to grow.

“How did you do that?” he asked, the words breathless.

Fate – for Sans found it hard to call them anything other than that now – shrugged nonchalant. “I am both real and a figment of your imagination, Sans. I’m able to do a many number of things. Interacting with others is not one of them, though.”

Sans stilled, coat halfway on. He shrugged it on completely as he asked, “So if we show up in public, no one else will see you?”

“Correct,” Fate confirmed, opening Sans’s bedroom door. “As much as I can interact with the word around you, I cannot interact with it where others can see me. In fact, I’ll disappear much as I had prior to your, ah, acceptance of the situation.”

Sans gave a huff of a laugh, lacking any real amusement with the situation. “Great. Let me guess, it has something to do with the script?”

Fate shrugged again as they led the way down the stairs. “More of being a figment of your imagination is limiting.”

Sans frowned but Fate vanished as he approached the kitchen. One instant they were there, the next they were gone, and Sans was left with an odd sensation of having walked into a room and having completely forgotten why he was there in the first place. And it was just the sensation, which was even weirder. Sans was glad he was on the edge of the script’s time limit seeing as it didn’t leave him time to dwell on the sensation.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

“Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have,” he commented, taking his normal seat with a glance around.

No Fate in sight.

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

The smile came easily as he looked at his brother. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

The plate of spaghetti was placed before him with ease and Sans speared a forkful as he offered, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking. Sans let his brother’s voice become noise in his skull, drowning out any thoughts he may have had.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he interjected without thinking, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

They stepped out of the house and Sans took the moment to take in the town. Everything looked the same but there was still no sign of Fate. Not sure what he felt about that, he let his gaze wander to the ceiling.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ARLIGHT?”

He looked to Papyrus, smiling. “Yeah, bro. Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him. He didn’t see Fate again till he was making his way to the ruin doors. They just suddenly appeared beside him, their footfall crunching softly beside his own.

“Enjoy yer time away?” he asked, only slightly bitter at the fact that he had been startled. Again.

“To an extent,” Fate offered as a sort of nonanswer. Sans didn’t pry.

He looked up at the branch he normally occupied. After a moment, he asked, “So what are they? Multiple personalities or two separate souls?”

Fate hummed, though Sans felt it didn’t bode well for the answer. “I haven’t the faintest clue.”

Sans closed his sockets, not surprised. “Of course not. How long are you planning on sticking about?” He turned, looking to Fate, only to find the figure gone. He let out a sigh. “Guess that answers one question.”

He teleported to his branch and settled in, watching the door.

Chara stepped out coated in dust.

“How long have you been in this loop?” Fate asked during a lull. For whatever reason, Chara had wandered off rather than take Sans on in their current marathon of genocide fights. Sans was not complaining. He was rather enjoying the reprieve from death sitting in Grillby’s empty bar, ketchup bottle in hand. He was in denial about actually being grateful for Fate’s presence.

Sans ran a hand over his skull, doing the rough math. “From what I’ve been tracking and if I’m mathing correctly, you’re name came about the month mark, so I’ve been in this temporal loop somewhere just over a month. Probably close to a week, if I’m calculating all this right without paper. Or a calculator.”

Fate seemed to be a statue at his side, unmoving and solid. “And have you gotten any actual sleep in this last week?”

Sans shrugged, not really caring. Something had changed in the kid. Ever since he had gained knowledge of Fate’s name, everything has gone downhill. Chara had become even more vicious and in what Sans could perceive as a week, he had been through more than 160 resets, with the kid going at him like a bat out of hell. Sans had stopped keeping track of the resets somewhere in there.

The worst part of it all was that Sans was now getting to see Frisk but it was only when Chara was supposed to take a final hit or when Chara wanted to tease him with a pacifist run. There had been such an odd spattering of pacifist runs that, had he not been taking notes as he was, he would just think them nothing more than hopeful dreams. It was just becoming too much and he was starting to shut down.

“The last run’s coming.”

Sans gave a dry chuckle as he raised the bottle to his lips, commenting sarcastically, “I didn’t realize this was all coming to an end.”

It wasn’t overly true but there had always been the possibility of him never getting out. To hear Fate say that the last run was coming only seemed to confirm what he had been seeing; the loop was finally destabilizing. However, what that meant for him when it all came crashing down was a mystery. Still, he was looking forward to something other than this.

The bottom of the bottle touched the counter again.

“I won’t be there for the rest of them.”

Sans snapped his gaze to his companion. Through the past week Fate had been by his side doing their best to keep him from going completely insane. He had become dependent on Fate’s calm presence and it was all he could do to not break at that simple statement.

“What?” he croaked, his hand clenching the bottle like a lifeline. “Why?”

Fate gave a nonchalant, one shoulder shrug. “If I had the choice, I’d stick around, but for whatever reason, our interactions are going to diminish till I’m no longer around and you’ll be on your own.”

Sans wasn’t sure what he felt at the moment. He threw back the rest of the ketchup but he didn’t taste it.

“I’m sorry.”

Sans whipped around, glaring at Fate. “Sorry?” he snapped. “You’re sorry?! Why would you be sorry for ditching my sorry ass in my time of need?”

Fate’s expression closed off and they reached a hand towards him. “Sans, calm down.”

The edges of the room were beginning to dim.

“No!” he barked, slipping from the stool. “I have every right to be pissed right now. You are supposed to be a figment of my imagination and yer just going to ditch me. What? Is my own mind bailing on me now? Is my own sanity throwing in the towel with the finish line finally in sight?”

“Of course not,” Fate retorted, their voice settling into a vocal pitch and pattern that felt far too familiar. Sans instinctively shied away from it. “I have no idea why I’m not getting to stick around. I’m not getting to choose.” They jabbed a finger at him. “You are having me leave.”

Sans’s pupils went out.

“What?” he asked, his voice level.

Fate scoffed. “You said it yourself; I’m a figment of your imagination. My staying and leaving has to do with what you have decided on and, for whatever reason, you’ve decided to do this last bit on your own.”

“No I didn’t,” he spoke, his volume soft.

Fate’s only grew louder. “Yes you did!” they bellowed, throwing an arm to the side in frustration before pointing at him again. “You, by yourself, made the decision to get answers without relying on others! You. No one else.” Fate drew back their hand, curling it into a fist as they visibly fought to bring themself back under control. Sans was rather grateful the mask was currently a hat on their red hair. Fate focused on him and there was regret in their gaze. “Sans, you made the choice to do this on your own. You chose to turn away the offered hands.”

Sans tore his gaze away, the back of his sockets stinging. “You’re lying,” he croaked.

Fate gave a weak smile. “And you’re in denial,” they countered, almost gently. “I haven’t left yet so let’s keep going till we can’t go anymore.”

Sans closed his sockets letting the darkness engulf him without responding.

He found himself face down on his mattress.

He closed his sockets, just being in his exhaustion for the brief moment he could. He must have dozed off because the pounding on his door woke him.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he replied with a yawn. He could really use a good night’s sleep, actually. How long had it been since he had gotten one?

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO! TIME TO GET UP!”

He couldn’t remember.

“That was so kind of you, Pap. You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

He listened to his brother’s footsteps disappear and he settled against his mattress, closing his sockets with the intent to get some sleep.

“You’d best get up and dressed, Sans,” Fate spoke, appearing without a sound.

Sans didn’t respond.

Fate let out a sigh. “The timeline will force you along, Sans, and you’ll be worse for wear if you have it force you.”

Sans didn’t dignify that with a response. He wasn’t fighting the script. He was simply catching some Zs where he could and right now was the best time.

Fate sighed again but said nothing more on the matter.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

Sans opened his sockets, finding himself sitting in his seat at the kitchen dressed. He let out a soft sigh, sad that his nap was now over.

“Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have,” he spoke, the words taking their own inflection.

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

The smile appeared on his face as he looked at his brother. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

The plate of spaghetti was placed before him with ease and Sans offered, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking. Sans let his brother’s voice become noise in his skull, a soothing melody for his tired mind. As much as he had got offended at the thought of Fate throwing in the white towel with the end in sight, he was rather tempted to do just that. Apathy, depression, something had settled in his soul and he just didn’t care enough anymore to put effort in the parts that mattered. This part mattered, this part was important. There was no telling if this would be the last time he would get to see his brother and even that thought wasn’t enough for him do even put in effort to do the next line proper.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he stated, unintentional words bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

They stepped out of the house and Sans watched Papyrus, watched as the skeleton closed the door, locked it, checked it, and then trekked over to his side. He took in every motion, every shift in Papyrus’s form but felt he couldn’t truly appreciate this moment as he should.

Stars above, he was tired.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ARLIGHT?”

He looked up at his brother’s face, smiling softly. “Yeah, bro. Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him. The journey was normal and uneventful. They parted ways and Sans took up his spot near the stone doors leading into the ruins.

The sound of stone grating on stone filled the forest.

Sans wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right. For the first time in what felt like forever, Sans was watching Frisk exit the ruins. Though as unusual as it was – and despite how much it put him on edge – Sans went through the motions.

To his complete surprise and utter relief, it really was Frisk. The kid giggled at his lame jokes, was enthusiastic to be friends with his brother, and, for the first time in a very long time, Sans got to experience a Pacifist run all the way through. When he woke face down on his mattress after the barrier supposedly broke, he woke feeling rather refreshed. He picked up his notebook and opened it.

“Don’t forget about the run prior,” Fate voiced from some corner. Sans didn’t look their way but the reminder was welcomed and he quickly put in the two entries.

r874 – genocide - bedroom
loop’s decaying – maybe this will actually end
fate’s leaving for whatever reason – not ok with this

r875 – pacifist - bedroom
it was so nice to see frisk after so long

“You do seem well rested after this last run,” Fate commented but Sans chose not to acknowledge them as he dressed.

There was pounding on his door as he pulled his coat on.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he replied with a smile. It was odd how he felt so rejuvenated after a good run. He really needed to figure out how to not get quite so depressed. Eh, that required effort on his part and, really, he was quite content on just staying in the pleasant joy of the previous run

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO! TIME TO GET UP!”

He grinned, speaking honestly, “That was so kind of you, Pap. You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

He listened to his brother’s footsteps disappear down the stairs before following after on soft feet.

“It’s odd to see you so cheerful,” Fate commented, though it sounded like they were talking to themself rather than Sans. “I wonder what caused the change in mood. Could a pacifist run really cause that much change in a person’s mood? Well, I guess after having given up, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Fate’s mutterings slowly faded out of hearing as Sans made his way to the kitchen. He stood in the doorway watching his brother work, letting the timing catch up.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

“Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have,” he spoke, the words endearing as he stepped into the kitchen and took his designated seat. He was rather hungry and was looking forward to breakfast spaghetti.

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

He grinned. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

The plate of spaghetti was placed before him with ease and Sans wound a forkful as he offered, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking. Sans happily listened to his brother talk, not really listening to the words but enjoying the sound of his brother’s voice rising and falling with each word.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he stated, unintentional words bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt. Aw, pity. He was enjoying the moment.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

They stepped out of the house and Sans looked to the town. The previous timeline had been wonderful and, though he hadn’t seen the surface, it certainly had felt like they had made it. Odd. Why wasn’t he paranoid that it was going to be another genocide run now? He couldn’t remember what had happened to have such an effect on him. Eh, he didn’t really care.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ARLIGHT?”

He looked up at his brother’s face, smiling. “Yeah, bro. Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans happily trailed behind him. Greetings and conversations were exchanged and Sans continued to be relaxed and happy through it all.

The sound of stone grating on stone filled the forest and Sans watched from his perch with an excitement rolling through him. A part of him – the part that still fully remembered the numerous genocide runs that had a pacifist run only to toy with him – was on edge but it was drowned out by this excitement.

Frisk stepped out of the ruins and Sans grinned.

“Five runs in a row,” Fate commented as Sans watched Frisk disappear towards Hotlands. “Five runs, all pacifist.”

Sans was still attempting to give Fate the cold shoulder but so many good runs had eased whatever hurt he had felt. “Maybe it’ll end this way.”

Fate hummed but there was a note to it that cut through his good mood and brought reality crashing back down around him. Suddenly overwhelmed, Sans reached for anything to keep him upright. His hand found Fate’s arm as the figure moved to help him. Fate eased him to the floor. “Stars above, what am I doing,” he breathed, shaking.

“Coming to terms with reality,” Fate spoke gently. Sans looked up at them as they pushed the mask up onto the top of their head. “The end is coming. This is a farewell, of sorts, from Frisk, and a sort of play from Chara.”

Sans choked, clasping his hand over his teeth. He wasn’t sure if he was going to sob or be sick.

“This is the last time you’ll see Frisk.”

Sobbing it was.

In some isolated tunnel of Waterfall, Sans sobbed. His muffled cries echoed off the walls and his entire body shook as he grieved. This was it. This was the end. His mind had created euphoria to keep him together through the last good run and he had gladly gone along with it.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

Eventually, he calmed down. Fate wasn’t present but that was no surprise. The figure – true to their word – was appearing less and less. At least Fate had been there for this, to wake him from his dreaming. Pushing himself to his feet, he did his best to look as if he hadn’t been sobbing on the ground and teleported to his Hotland sentry station.

He was grateful when the world reset.

He wasn’t sure he would have been able to fake it for the kid much longer.

He pushed himself up from his mattress, feeling exhausted. He started to dress, finding that it was going to be a slow process as he did so. Whelp, it was a good thing that there was a script. Otherwise he was certain that even his brother would notice Sans’s depression.

There was pounding on his door.

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP!”

“Five more minutes, Pap,” he called out, the words taking the default inflections of the script as he tried to figure out how to pull on shorts without falling over. He was too tired for this and just wanted to curl up on his mattress and block out the world.

“YOU CALLED FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES TEN MINUTES AGO! TIME TO GET UP!”

Stupid script.

“That was so kind of you, Pap. You’re the best.”

“OF COURSE I AM! NOW HURRY UP AND GET DOWN TO THE KITCHEN! WE HAVE A FULL DAY AHEAD OF US!!”

He sat down on the edge of his mattress to pull the shorts on. It seemed the safest thing to do as long as he was able to get himself back up. He stilled with his shorts barely over his knees. Stars above, why did it have to be so difficult?

“Come on, Sans,” Fate’s voice softly coaxed as the figure appeared. “Keep moving. You have to.”

Sans watched as Fate stood him up and helped him pull his shorts all the way up but there was a disconnect and Sans didn’t care. He was too tired. “What’s the point?” he asked meekly, as Fate pulled his shirt off. Apparently it had been inside out.

“You give up now, and Chara wins.” Fate put his shirt back on before cupping his cheek and getting him to look at the figure. “You give up now, and you’ll never wake up again.”

Sans frowned at Fate’s words. That sounded rather cryptic. “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Fate stepped away and passed Sans his coat. “No, it wouldn’t. You would be condemning your brother to a fate worse than a temporal loop.”

Sans flinched, taking the coat. “Not sure there’s anything worse than this.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Sans frowned as the coat settled on his shoulders. It wasn’t sitting right. He shifted one side and then the other till he realized what was wrong. Odd how panic was the first reaction he had. “Where’s the notebook.”

“I took it.”

Sans looked up, finding the notebook in Fate’s hands. He felt his own hands twitch with the need to take it back, to write in it. Fate gave him a strained smile. “You don’t need it anymore, Sans. And it would be best to break the habit now.”

“But I need it.” Sans was both astounded and embarrassed when the words not only came out sounding like whining, but his voice cracked too.

Fate’s expression didn’t change. “No you don’t. The end is near, after all.”

Sans reached out but there was a heavy sense of vertigo and he found himself in the kitchen, reaching out towards empty air.

Fate was gone, and so was his notebook.

“BROTHER!! GOOD! TAKE A SEAT!! BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS ALMOST READY!!!”

Sans jerked, startled by his brother’s voice. “Aw, bro, you shouldn’t have,” came off his tongue without his bidding. He did choose to sit, though.

“NONSENSE!!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY! WE MUST BE NOURISHED TO BE ABLE TO BE PRODUCTIVE.”

He gripped at the edge of the table, feeling oddly anxious without the notebook in his pocket. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

Maybe Fate was right.

The plate of spaghetti was placed before him with ease and Sans offered, “This looks great, Pap. Even better than your last batch.”

Papyrus beamed at him and started talking, though his voice was nothing more than background noise in Sans’s skull. He dutifully ate as he tried to calm himself down. Fate had a reason for taking the notebook away. There was a reason he needed to be without it for the remainder of the resets.

His hand twitched around his fork.

“Hey, bro, shouldn’t we get going?” he stated, bringing Papyrus’s train of thought to a halt.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, BROTHER!” Papyrus exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “IF YOU ARE QUITE FINISHED, WE SHALL LEAVE RIGHT AWAY!!”

Sans passed his plate to his brother.

They stepped out of the house and Sans looked to the ceiling in hopes to sooth his anxiety somehow. It helped to be out of the house, at least, but the pocket normally holding the notebook felt empty around his hand. He clenched the inside of the pocket and tried to get his focus elsewhere.

“BROTHER, ARE YOU ARLIGHT?”

He looked up at his brother’s face, giving him a strained smile. “Yeah, bro. Guess the sandman wasn’t quite done with me this morning.” Papyrus frowned at him and Sans grinned. “I honestly can’t ‘sand’ the guy.”

Papyrus threw his hands up. “SANS!!! NOT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING!!!!”

Sans’s grin grew. “Don’t worry, Pap, I’m ‘morning’ that one too.”

“UGH!!!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of his puzzles and Sans trailed behind him, not sure he was going to be able to survive without it.

It turned out that he could, to an extent. Chara exited the ruins and Sans could already tell it was going to be a genocide run just by the glint in the kid’s eye. Sure enough, they ended up in Judgment Hall facing each other and reset after reset of them having at each other erased all memory of anything else that had been part of his world before their fight.

The world reset for who knew how many times. Sans was leaning against a pillar, empty sockets pointed towards the ceiling. He could feel it, deep down in his bones. This was it, this was the last run. For whatever reason, this last fight would end this temporal loop for better or for worse and Sans desperately prayed that it would bring blessed death. He was tired of it all, tired of the resets, tired of the same dialogue, tired of the same sensation of dusting from getting hit once.

He was done with this game.

Chara started walking towards him from the other end of the hall and Sans closed his sockets. He was certain that the kid would be vibrating with excitement. Chara seemed to know what was coming with how much their glee increased with each reset.

Sadly, true to Fate’s word, the figure wasn’t there. Hadn’t been in a good handful of resets. He still touched the pocket where the notebook had been but the urge to write in it every reset had finally left. He only wished he had it so that he knew precisely when the last time he had seen Fate. Not that it changed anything. Fate wasn’t there and knowing wouldn’t change that fact.

Sans pulled at the world gently, appearing before Chara. The kid was grinning at him, visibly bouncing from foot to foot in a display of excitement that made Sans sneer.

“Let’s get this over with,” he spoke, though he wasn’t sure if it was true to script or not as the kid charged at him.

Sans was surprised when the kid took a few hits. He was fairly certain that the kid had come out of their last encounter nearly unscathed as he succumbed to the wound they inflicted. But the kid kept coming at him, using health items here and there to keep from having their health diminish completely.

Sans threw in his all at taking the kid out.

It turned out to be for naught.

Either he misjudged his teleportation or the kid was simply faster than he had anticipated for the blade sliced through his shirt, scrapping against his ribs enough to take off that one measly HP he had. It was pure reflex that embedded the bone in the human’s chest.

He heard their soul shatter as his world went black, the sensation of his bones dusting and his soul shattering engulfing his mind.
The transition from nothingness to awareness was so gradual that Sans didn’t even notice till he was aware there was a difference. But, beyond just being aware, there was nothing more to it. Sans drifted through this place of nothingness with a foggy mind and no care in the world. After what could have been a second or an eternity, Sans realized something soft was against his back and that he was enveloped in warmth that was accompanied by a slight weight against his front. It took a while but his foggy mind recognized the sensations to be similar to lying in bed.

Whether it was automatic or he had the urge to do so, Sans found himself blinking bleary eyed and exhausted to a blurry view. It cleared with each blink to reveal a ceiling dimly lit. Confusion ran through his being as his brain slowly processed the information and tried to make sense of why he was staring at a ceiling.

The flash of a blade penetrated his thought process.

Panic shoved him upright as he remembered with startling clarity what had just transpired. He should be dust, no longer living. It was suppose to be over. There were supposed to be no more resets. His hand shot to his chest only to find that there was no wound there to press again and that moving was sluggish and surprisingly painful. He winced as his bones ground against each other, his magic weak around his limbs.

Something hit the floor to the left of his bed and he jerked away, magic sputtering through him as his eyes snapped to the left.

It was a bedroom, well kept and leaving a sort of itching sensation in the back of Sans’s mind, as if he should know something that just wasn’t within reach. The bed he was on was in the left corner farthest from the door in the opposite right corner. The head of the bed was against the wall opposite the door and – from where Sans was sitting – the right side of the bed was against the left wall. There was a window on the wall the head of the bed was against and other bits of furniture filled the space cluttered with knick knacks and books. The most prominent feature in the room was what had gained his attention in the first place.

A human was in a chair next to the bed, gaping at him. They blinked and whatever had been holding them back broke. The person lunged forward, calling out, “Sans! Thank the gods.”

Sans leaned away, unsure as both surprise and relief warred within him at hearing his name from a stranger’s lips. But then, the scent of a very familiar cigarette entangled itself around him as the stranger stood against the edge of the bed but not coming any closer. Sans looked up into the face of the one and only Fate.

Except, it wasn’t Fate. It wasn’t the androgynous mischief maker that had been his one and only comrade through so many horrific timelines. The man before him was clearly male. Lanky, sure, but still very clearly male. The facial hair lining the jaw looked as if he hadn’t trimmed it in a few days and the glasses were new. The green eyes were familiar but held a different light in them and the bags under them spoke loudly of restless nights. The fact that the man was wearing a beige sweater vest and light khakis spoke louder than anything else. Fate was always in their suit.

The man, regardless of being a bad copy of Fate, knew Sans’s name and appeared to be genuinely happy to see Sans awake. Sans didn’t find any comfort in that fact and finished the impulse to back up against the wall. He felt his magic give a more substantial show, his eye coming to light as he snapped, “Where’s the kid?” Thinking better of it, he added just as sharply, “And where am I?”

The man’s confused expression lasted all of two seconds before something close to defeat changed it. Sans watched as it contorted into a conflicted expression as the man shifted his weight back a step, a hand running through the back of the unruly red locks. “Sans, I…” The man sighed, dropping his hand. He stated bluntly, “Sans, you’ve been in a coma for the last 7 weeks and a handful of days. And, while what you experienced may have seemed real, it was all in your head.”

Dread was like an icy ooze that slowly made its way over Sans’s bones. Sans shook his head slowly as the man pressed on. “Everything was real. Really and truly. But it was all in your head. And I know this sounds crazy but I need you to trust me on this, Sans.” The man gave a weak smile. “I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can but I want you to do me a favor first after I get some equipment.” Sans tensed. “I want you to tell me everything you remember.”

Sans blinked at him. That was it? That was all the man wanted? But Sans’s untrusting mind couldn’t help but ask what the catch was and it must have translated to his expression because the man was putting his hands up in surrender, urging, “Please, Sans. If I don’t record this, you’ll end up forgetting something important.”

The dread had numbed him and all he could do was nod even as he thought that this was a bad idea. Still, the man relaxed and rushed off, leaving the door open as he went. Sans curled up against the wall, trying to reign in the fear that was creeping in through the numbness. Nothing was the same, nothing was familiar, and there was no one there for him to talk to. He didn’t understand. What had happened? Wasn’t he supposed to be dead? It had been the final battle, their last fight. There was nothing left for him to live for.

Something settled on Sans’s shoulder and Sans jumped, bouncing against the wall as he turned and brought up a hand already crackling with magic. The man had placed a hand on Sans’s shoulder and was quickly taking a few steps back, hands clearly in the open to show off what he had brought back. Sans wasn’t sure how to take the man’s half startled reaction.

“I brought an audio recorder, pen, and paper,” the man offered, gesturing with the items when he mentioned them. “Let me set up the recorder and we can get started.”

The man sat down in the chair beside the bed and set the recorder up on the nightstand. He picked up the book he had dropped and used it as a hard surface for the spiral notebook he had brought for paper. He took the cap off the pen and looked at Sans. “I won’t ask any questions till you’re done talking, Sans. Don’t hold anything back, no secrets, no nothing. Everything you say here will be confidential and the recording with remain between the two of us till you say otherwise.” The man gave him a smile that screamed Fate as he encouraged, “I don’t want to lose anything that you experienced to time.”

It took only a moment after that line for Sans to give in.

He talked.

And talked.

And talked.

By the time he was done, his throat was raw, his hands were shaking, and he had a headache. He just wanted to go back to sleep but something was bugging him, keeping him upright as he watched the man pull off his glasses and rub at watery eyes. He had done as the man had asked and spilled every detail Sans could remember, even the deep, dark secretive thoughts that he was sure only Fate would ever know and he doubted there was a point when the man hadn’t been writing.

Papyrus’s scarf popped into his mind unbiddingly.

The man replaced the glasses on the bridge of his nose. Closing the notebook, he placed it on the nightstand, looking Sans in the eye and stating seriously, “Look at these and answer whichever you feel need to be answered. I will not push you for answers, Sans.” The man smiled Fate’s smile again and Sans found himself believing him. “I never have and never will.” The man stood as he offered nonchalant, “I’ll send Papyrus in, in the morning.”

Sans caught the man’s wrist as he turned to leave. He knew his grip was probably painful – it was surprisingly strong, so much so that even Sans noticed – but Sans didn’t let go as his head tipped forward, casting his eyes in shadows. “Don’t,” he uttered pathetically.

There was a breath, a strain in the silence as Sans waited for the man to respond. The man placed a careful hand around Sans’s, providing, “I will be telling the others you have Dissociative Acute Amnesia. You and I have seen our fair share of this, even if you don’t remember, but, basically, it means that you don’t remember anything from before your coma. Only what you experienced in your coma dream.” The man’s grip on his hand tightened in his hesitation. “I will be telling the others not to give you any information that you don’t already know.”

Sans’s head snapped up, his eyes flickering in disbelief and betrayal. “What?!” he exclaimed. “Why!?”

The man shook his head. “It’s better for you to recover the memories on your own. Especially with this kind of amnesia. It’s going to be very frustrating for some time but, please, trust me. You have to recall things on your own. After all, you just lived through countless lifetimes.” For a brief moment, magic flared in Sans’s left eye at the reminder of all the timelines and the man’s grip on his hand grew. Sans dropped his gaze in favor of pressing his free hand against his burning eye. “I’ll also be giving the others the heads up that you’re not going to be like they remember and to be prepared to be interacted with differently.” The man smiled, offering, “I’m pretty sure you’ll recognize everyone.”

Unable to take the attempt to make him feel better, Sans shook his head as he released the man’s wrist. “I don’t remember you.” The man blinked at him. It was clear the man had already suspected as much but the hurt was not hidden well enough. Sans went with the need to correct himself. “I don’t remember you as you are. You were called Fate back in…those timelines. A figment of my imagination.”

Sans was startled when the man laughed. The man gave Sans a big grin. “My last name is Fatum, the Latin version of Fate. It’s kind of turned into a joke around the lab that you loved to exploit.” The grin softened. “You can continue to call me Fate till you remember my name. And, if you never do, you’ll either read it somewhere or one of the others will slip and end up telling you.” The man winked. “Papyrus has been eager for you to wake up, after all. He has so much he wants to tell you.”

Sans blinked up at Fate, pretending he can’t feel the sting of tears in the back of his eyes.

“Really?” Sans winced when his voice cracked. “Is that even safe, though? All I’ve been through–”

Fate cut him off, gripping both of the small skeleton’s shoulders. “You may not be the Sans we all remember, but you are still our Sans. You will always be our Sans. You are a part of the family you made around yourself and I doubt there is anything you can do to change that now.” Fate gained a sheepish look, his cheeks turning pink. “Sides, this is the third time I’ve had to drug Papyrus to get him to sleep.”

“WHAT?!”

Fate leapt back as his hands shot up. Sans’s magic flared, though it was still not as strong as it should have been. “Easy Sans,” Fate urges softly, a soft smile on his lips. Sans only bristled more when he realized that Fate was amused. At least the man had the decency to be kind about it. “Papyrus hasn’t been sleeping as of late. It’s just a soft sedative to get him to sleep on his own. It wears off in a matter of hours.”

Sans tightened his control on his frayed magic and reigned in his emotions. The thought of his brother being so vulnerable, of being injured or killed was still too fresh in his mind. Sans forced out a curt nod as he pulled his knees up towards his chest and pressed his face into them. Fate placed a hand on Sans’s shoulder again. The skeleton didn’t jump this time.

“Get some rest. I’ll send Papyrus in when you wake.”

Sans listened to Fate walk to the door and open it. When the door didn’t close, Sans brought his head up enough to look at the door. Fate was wearing a complicated look, one that Sans wasn’t sure he liked. Fate looked at him. “Take a look at my questions before you get some sleep. It would be best if you could answer some before it’s all muddled with what he may tell you tomorrow.”

Sans nodded.

The door clicked shut, leaving Sans with a sense of foreboding that made his stomach churn.

Everything he had gone through, everything he had lived through, was a lie? Just a figment of his over active imagination? Sans rubbed at his skull, disbelief bubbling up in him with frustration. No, it wasn’t true. What he had lived was real, it had happened. This was just a new time, a new story. It had to be. He didn’t remember anything else. He had told Fate all that he had remembered and none of it correlated with this room.

Sans gaze settled on the notebook ominously resting on the corner closest to him. His soul pulsed beneath his sternum as he reached for it.

The spiral notebook was new, the pages still crisp and undamaged from use. He flipped the cover out of the way, finding very elegant handwriting scribbling out notes as fast as the hand writing could manage. Comments blended with the questions, thoughts and ideas clashing as questions were written, rewritten, and completely scratched out. Sans skimmed the pages, taking in everything Fate had deemed important to write down, to comment on. Some of the questions were just factual, harmless, and Sans picked up the pen left behind to mark out short replies here and there. He paused halfway through writing his first answer, taking in the difference in the handwriting.

Fate, though he didn’t fully write in cursive, tended to leave the pen on the page between letters, creating an elegant look to the swift, decisive strokes. Sans’s handwriting looked blocky in comparison, though his was much clearer in which letter was which, looking more calculated than Fate’s. Sans wondered briefly how much that spoke of their characters.

The farther into the notebook he got, the harder it was for him to respond to some of them. He started skipping questions till he was skipping full pages, ignoring the ones that just hurt too much to even consider. About halfway through the notebook – around the time that he had started heavily interacting with the Fate of his memories – Sans came across a question that struck home and he threw the book across the room, livid that this Fate had the guile to ask such a question. He flinched when his body complained but he ignored it as he dropped back onto the mattress and hunkered down underneath the blankets, his back against the wall. He hadn’t intended to go to sleep but he passed out shortly after settling.

He didn’t dream. Instead, he woke slowly, coming to with the view of the room from earlier. A part of him was relieved but another, much larger part was not looking forward to what that meant. Someone had been in the room while he had been asleep because the notebook was now in the chair beside the bed. He glared at it.

After a while, Sans found himself itching to grab the notebook again. He rolled over and pressed his knees and forehead against the wall in an attempt to ignore it. It didn’t work very well. Sans rolled onto his back and looked at the notebook, his mind running. He glanced at the door before back to the notebook. How long did he have till Papyrus would show up? That is, if he even existed in this timeline. Fate could have been lying to him.

He grunted as he pushed himself up, bones complaining but moving easier than the previous day. He leaned on his elbow and reached out across the space between the chair and bed, only to find that the chair was too far away. He gave it a look before sighing. He reached for his magic only to find that his magic was still too weak to do much more than hold him together. He moaned. Really?

Dejected, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting there as he waited through a head rush. Thinking nothing of it, he moved to stand.

He collapsed with a loud, resounding thud. Sans groaned, rolling off his arm that he had landed on painfully as the sound of rapid footfall filled the room. Thankfully nothing had broken. Hands were suddenly on him and his first instinct was to attack, but he recognized the bony appendages and his head snapped up as magic flared in his left eye to come face to face with Papyrus.

The moment between them stretched as they just stared at each other. Papyrus shifted, breaking the eye contact first in clear resignation but it was all Sans needed. He threw himself at his brother, burying his face into the larger skeleton’s shoulder and letting out a choked sob of his brother’s name.

He begged whatever deity was still listening to not let this be a dream, that the long arms wrapped tightly around him were real and the chest he was clinging to wouldn’t vanish like so many others had. Papyrus had looked so healthy, so strong, that it had broken Sans’s resolve and Sans couldn’t bring himself to care, damn the consequences. Then again, always seeing Papyrus whole and happy was always the hardest thing to stay strong around. It was all that much harder in this strange place and just knowing that Papyrus was there allowed Sans to release part of his paranoia.

He found himself waking up again. The low rumble of both Fate and his brother whispering over his head soothed the urge to jerk awake. Instead of being tucked in the bed, he was curled up against Papyrus’s chest on the mattress. Papyrus must have been leaning back against the wall because Sans could see the headboard in his grogginess and Sans knew that sitting in Papyrus’s lap like this wouldn’t last long if the lanky skeleton didn’t have something to lean back against. He raised a hand and rubbed at an eye, inadvertently drawing his brother’s attention to him. Papyrus sat up more, moving his arms so that Sans was sitting upright as well.

Papyrus beamed at him. “I’m glad you’re awake again, brother. I’ve missed you.”

Sans felt his soul clench at that. Without a thought, he spoke as he looked to Fate, “Give us a minute, Alex?”

Recognition flashed over Fate’s gaze and Sans had to rethink what he had said which turned out to be a bit more difficult than he had thought it should have been. He had just called Fate something but it hadn’t felt like Fate on his tongue. Fate didn’t comment, though, and merely stood up from the chair with an affirming nod. He looked to Papyrus. “Howler if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Alex,” Papyrus replied.

Alex. He had said that, he had called Fate Alex. He had remembered something. Kind of. Sans frowned. No, it had been a slip of the tongue. He didn’t know Fate, didn’t remember him, but the idea of Alex Fatum stuck in his head for the human and Sans couldn’t figure out how to think around it like he had. Sans watched Alex step out and close the door.

“We had been lucky to have paused near your room,” Papyrus told him, gaining the smaller skeleton’s attention. Sans looked up at Papyrus as he went on, “We had been going to meet with the others when we heard you fall.” Papyrus gained a concerned look. “Does anything hurt? There weren’t any obvious injuries.”

Sans felt the smile form itself on his face. He shook his head. “I’m fine, Pap. It startled me more than anything.”

Papyrus relaxed. “I’m glad.”

Silence settled over them. After a moment, Sans shifted to rest his head against his brother’s shoulder as he listened to his brother’s soul pulse. He could always tell when Papyrus was debating on talking, even if he had never interacted with this specific Papyrus. If Sans waited long enough, Papyrus would talk. But a thought nagged at him, drawing him down into numbness. He didn’t know this Papyrus, didn’t remember anything about him. He knew his brother, would always know his brother, but a part of him hated the fact that he didn’t remember anything about the two of them, that all he could remember was a dream. Clearly this Papyrus was different from the one he remembered. He wasn’t talking at an obnoxiously loud level, wasn’t wearing the battle body. He didn’t seem to be naïve. In fact, this Papyrus was so much more and Sans couldn’t remember any of it.

Sans tensed when a bony hand was placed on the side of his head and he jerked back, looking up at Papyrus. Papyrus had a look on his face that Sans had never seen before. At least, not that he could remember. Papyrus looked older with concern and worry in his expression. And it seemed that this version of his brother knew him better than he realized as Papyrus spoke, “Alex warned us all that you have Dissociative Acute Amnesia. I don’t pretend to know what that is fully but he did explain that it means you have different memories than what you had before you Fell.” Sans covered Papyrus’s hand on his cheek but Papyrus didn’t let him remove it as he pressed, “No matter what, no matter the memories you have, we’ll create new ones and we’ll learn about each other all over again.” Papyrus smiled at him and Sans’s mind overlapped the image of the Papyrus in his dream smiling that same grin. “You are my brother and nothing will ever change that.”

Sans gave a watery smile though his eyes stayed dry. “Thanks, bro.” Sans rested his head on Papyrus’s shoulder again and Papyrus shifted enough to curl around him. “That means a lot to me.”

They settled in silence once more and Sans ended up dosing off to the lull of his brother’s soul. When he awoke, he was tucked back into the bed, the chair beside his bed occupied by his brother. Papyrus was reading, glasses held in place by magic. Sans took in the sight, startled. He didn’t realize that Papyrus had needed glasses. But then, that would explain quite a bit from his dream. Sans shifted, moving to sit up. Papyrus took notice in an instant and was up and helping Sans before the smaller brother had his full weight on his arm. Papyrus aided him without a word, without so much of a change in expression. Sans felt magic settle on his cheeks to create a blue blush. “Thanks, bro,” Sans offered softly, not daring to look at Papyrus.

“Of course, brother,” Papyrus commented, taking the glasses from his face as he picked up the folder he had been reading. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” Sans replied without a thought.

Papyrus chuckled – actually chuckled!! – at the lame joke. He sat down, pointing his glasses at Sans. “That was a lame joke. You are far from dead as any monster I know, Sans.”

Sans shrugged, grinning. “With as bone tired as I am, I’m surprised I haven’t kicked the bucket yet.”

Papyrus’s look, though amused and happy, took on a sad note and Sans worried that he had done something wrong. “I’ve missed this,” Papyrus softly spoke.

Sans tore his gaze away as his soul clenched painfully in his chest. He didn’t need the reminder that this Papyrus was not the one he was used to interacting with, that he was not the Sans that Papyrus expected. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface. Why did he have to have this stupid amnesia?

The mattress dipped as arms wrapped around him. Sans found himself being pressed against Papyrus’s chest, the lankier skeleton having settled beside him on the bed. Sans felt Papyrus rest the side of his jaw against the back of Sans’s head. Sans was suddenly aware that he wasn’t as small as he had been in his dream, which just made the situation worse. He pushed Papyrus away, suddenly revolted with himself in a way he didn’t understand. Papyrus let his arms drop from him but Sans’s hands remained splayed across the taller skeleton’s chest, head hung between tense shoulders. “Sorry,” he offered with a choked smile Papyrus couldn’t actually see. “Just….Sorry.”

Papyrus covered one of his hands with his own, offering, “You have nothing to be sorry for. That was rude of me to say.”

Sans shook his head, urging as he looked up, “No, you had every right. I’m the imposter. I’m the one that isn’t who I should be. I-I-”

I’m the one who’s broken.

He was shaking so hard, his bones were rattling and he hadn’t even realized he was gripping Papyrus’s shirt till he released it, jerking back. A choked sob escaped him, turmoil suffocating him as his back collided with the wall. Papyrus followed him every step of the way, a hand sliding behind Sans’s skull to keep Sans from cracking his head against the wall too. Papyrus pushed Sans’s head down between his knees, words flowing from him that Sans didn’t understand but as Papyrus rubbed his back, he understood the calming magic swirling around him. Papyrus’s magic was much calmer in this world, more solid or grounded but still as strikingly bright and warm as he had felt in the dream. Sans found himself being lulled out of his panic attack and into just crying. He curled around himself as he sobbed; wails of despair escaped him as it all came crashing down too fast. Papyrus’s magic never wavered around him, solid and warm, holding him together when Sans thought his own magic would fail.

Papyrus’s hand never left his back.

Sans felt disgusting when he came to. He had never broken down like that in all the resets. Yeah, he had cried before – he wasn’t soulless – but that kind of despair and wrongness made him feel unclean. He was under the covers again but he didn’t make any attempt to move. The chair beside his bed was empty, which was for the better even as his soul seized. He burrowed beneath the blankets only to freeze as his back pressed against something that was not the wall.

Sans was at a loss at finding his brother behind him, practically spooning him with an arm draped over Sans’s waist. His brother’s slow breath was soft against the back of his shoulders. Sans tried not to wake Papyrus up but Papyrus was already awake from Sans shifting to get under the blankets. Papyrus pulled Sans close with the arm around his waist, pressing his face into his brother’s back. Sans wasn’t sure what to do with any of this, especially when Papyrus started to speak.

“You are not an imposter,” Papyrus calmly stated. “You are Sans, my brother, and will always be as such, no matter how much you do or do not remember.”

Sans sank into the mattress at Papyrus’s words, feeling hollow inside. He didn’t believe those words.
They stayed like that long enough that Sans dozed again. A soft knock on the door brought his awareness back to the room but he didn’t react. He felt the mattress dip as Papyrus clambered off the bed. Sans wondered how long it would take for him to doze off again if he kept his eyes shut. There was a click at the door before it opened. Sans wondered whose idea it had been to lock the bedroom door.

“Hey. Food run from Toriel.” Alex’s voice was like a calming balm to his frayed nerves and Sans had the sudden urge to scrub himself of it. He didn’t even know Alex and here the man was soothing some foreign part of Sans just by talking. Gods above this was going to get old very quickly. At least it was someone Sans had interacted with previously.

“Thank you, Alex,” Papyrus replied, voice solemn. There was a clattering sound and the sound of dishes knocking gently against each other. Sans heard the tray being placed on the nightstand near his head. There was a pause in the sounds of the room before Papyrus’s hand stroked Sans’s skull. It had taken everything Sans had not to flinch at the sudden touch. Yeah, he really wanted to get over that too. “Should he be sleeping so much?”

“Yes,” Alex spoke, the door clicking shut. “He’d been in a coma for almost eight weeks. His body – more specifically his magic – is not used to having to deal with motion and stress.” The chair scrapped against the floor as the bed dipped beside Sans. Papyrus hadn’t stopped stroking his head yet so Sans assumed Alex was the one to sit in the chair. “It’ll actually take quite a while before Sans doesn’t need to nap throughout the day to maintain his strength.”

“We do not need to give Sans more reason to be lazy,” Papyrus countered, clearly not pleased with the idea but the thought made Sans smile. He could see the look his brother was giving Alex even with his eyes closed.

Alex chuckled. “He only seemed lazy to you because of how hard he worked in the Lab. Sans would outstrip me on a good day with how much stress he would put himself under and his only outlet ever seemed to be spending time with you.”

“And you,” Papyrus added, sounding confused.

There was a brief pause. “We took breaks together. I wouldn’t necessarily call that down time for him. When he was here, it was business. Even after hours and on breaks.”
Papyrus’s hand had stilled on Sans’s skull. “Sans was always working.”

A heavy silence settled for a while as Sans tried to figure out what exactly that had meant. As far as Sans remembered, he never had worked in an actual lab. There was the one that had been in Hotland and he had ever only stepped in there to deal with Alphys. The room under his house was just a place he dabbled when he needed a break or to hide from reality. Was he really a scientist after all? Would explain a good number of things. But what had been his focus? He couldn’t remember anything specific about the lab in his dream beyond a tarp covered object, the thoughts of a few blueprints, and a picture of three people with “don’t forget” written on it. Funny. He couldn’t remember the actual image even though he had handled the picture several times.

Alex broke the silence. “I met up with the others.” Papyrus went back to running his hand over Sans’s skull. “They’re worried and had asked how Sans was. I told them that he was fine, awake.” There was a pause. “He won’t be able to walk for at least a week. It’s going to take some time for his body to get used to being used again. Even then, he’ll most likely be walking with some sort of assistance, be it a cane or crutches of some sort, for anywhere between four to eight weeks. We’ll have to be patient and keep Sans busy. It’s going to be a frustrating process.” Sans was not looking forward to it either. “I told the others not to mention anything that hasn’t already been previously discussed.”

“Why?”

Alex chuckled. “They asked the same question. As did Sans, though not quite as calmly.” The chair creaked. “Whether Sans remembers or not, we both have had experiences with those that have suffered from Dissociative Acute Amnesia before his Fall. The majority of those diagnosed reacted badly to having their history told to them. I doubt even Sans would be an exception to that rule.”

Papyrus’s hand stilled on Sans’s skull once more as the lanky skeleton shifted. “I take it the others were not too fond of that idea.”

Alex gave a snort of a laugh, his tone dry and sharp. “They tried to argue against it but they care a lot about Sans.”

Sans got the distinct feeling that Alex was hiding something. It seemed Papyrus had a similar feeling or had seen more than Sans had heard because the lanky skeleton asked, “They didn’t trust your word.”

“Why would they?” Alex challenged, bitter. “They still blame me for his condition.”

Sans eyes snapped open as Papyrus leapt to his feet, shouting, “But you had nothing to do with that!”

“And you’re the only one that believes me,” Alex countered, getting to his feet as well. But the dejected look on Alex’s face eased some of the panic that had seized Sans in the first place. Alex shook his head, his expression changing into one of self loathing. “I know there was nothing I could have done, no way of knowing this was going to occur, but still, I….”

Papyrus rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder and Alex covered it with one of his own, meeting Papyrus’s gaze. The skeleton smiled gently. “You have no reason to still be carrying your guilt, Alex. You have done plenty for Sans and myself over these last weeks to prove you had no hand in his coma.”

Alex’s expression closed off. “The others don’t see it like you do, Pap.”

“They do not have to,” Papyrus stated plainly. “What matters is that you had found Sans, saved him, and have been helping me make sure he has stayed alive these last weeks to finally awaken. We’ll get through this together.”

Alex took in a breath, nodding. He was still guarded but he seemed at ease with Papyrus’s words. Sans closed his eyes, mind racing. How unknown was Alex to everyone that they wouldn’t trust him? How different were the others to what he remembered? But, then, how had he succumbed to a coma and why did Alex blame himself? Sans fell asleep with turmoil in his mind. It was a miracle he hadn’t had nightmares because of it.

He woke to his brother at his bedside grinning. Papyrus presented the breakfast he had brought and chatted away, talking about anything and everything yet nothing specific. Sans found himself halfway through breakfast when Alex came in. Alex and Papyrus talked away as they waited for Sans to finish and, while Sans didn’t really know what they were talking about, he was glad they were acting so casual around him.

The instant he had eaten all that he could – it was surprising how lacking of an appetite he had after being out for almost eight weeks – the tray was taken away and the physical therapy began.

If Sans said it was exhausting, it would have been a gross understatement. Alex had him not only working on walking, but just moving in general. Push-ups, pull-ups, crunches, stretches, and countless other exercises wore Sans out quickly. They stopped for lunch before going at it some more. Twice they stopped for Sans to take a nap. At the end of the day, Sans was passing out during dinner but both his brother and Alex made sure he ate as much as he could before letting him crash for the night.

The following morning started way too early for Sans’s liking.

The cycle repeated day after day and, while Sans wanted desperately to flop on the nearest flat surface and pass out, he discovered that the inability to move as he normally had was an excruciatingly infuriating motivator. Especially when the sixth and seventh day rolled to an end and he found himself not as exhausted but still just as shaky and weak as he had felt at the top of the week.

“I think that’s enough for today, Sans,” Alex commented, wiping sweat from his brow as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ll get dinner.”

Sans scowled at the human’s back as Alex left the room even as his legs shook from exertion. “I’m fine for a bit more.”

“Brother,” Papyrus urged, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Sans looked up at Papyrus to find the skeleton looking exhausted. Guilt seeped into his soul for who knew how many times that week. Papyrus had been using his magic to make sure that Sans didn’t fall. While this wasn’t the dream where one hit would take him out, Sans was still very frail. The last thing Sans needed was a broken bone. He shuddered at the thought but no one thought it was an odd concept. Guess it was just another warping of the dream.

Sans sighed, nodding as Papyrus helped him sit on the edge of the bed. Sans wouldn’t admit it out loud how concerned he was about the lack of exhaustion gnawing at his bones. He had been less exhausted the two previous nights as well and he had dreamt – something he was desperately trying to avoid. The dream he had been in during the coma had diminished into a nightmare near the end and he knew he had that fuel in his mind to create horrific imagery. There had been too many times in the dream where he had woken many times from nightmares of the timelines he was subjected to experiencing. If he could avoid that here, that would be great.

Alex returned with three meals and the three of them ate in Sans’s room. Sans still found himself nodding off to the soft lull of his brother and Alex talking but it did not ease the worry gnawing at the back of his skull. He prayed to whatever deity existed that he didn’t have a nightmare that night.

Alex left with the used dinnerware, leaving Papyrus to tuck Sans in and say goodnight. When the lanky skeleton turned off his light and closed the door, Sans found that he couldn’t sleep, stress eating away at him and, whether it was truly not being exhausted enough or from the stress of the possibly of having a nightmare, Sans fell into a fitful sleep.

The flash of a silver blade sliced at Papyrus’s throat.

It flashed again as it cut him down shortly thereafter.

He screamed as his magic lashed out.

Papyrus lurched awake at the sudden scream, his magic feeling as if it had turned to ice around his bones. He threw his covers back as he spared a glance at the clock. 02:17 AM glared at him through the darkness. His bare feet scrapped against the floor as he stumbled to the door. He yanked it open and dashed out, colliding bodily with a familiar form.

“Watch it,” came the gruff reply as familiar, strong hands kept Papyrus from going very far. Papyrus looked up at Undyne. She didn’t grin at him like she normally would. “You know who screamed?”

“Sans.” He gripped her arms, urging, “Please, I need you to fetch Alex for me. I’ll go check on Sans.”

Undyne nodded and took off as Papyrus made his way to his brother’s room.

Alex jerked awake as his door was kicked in and banged off the wall. He squinted at the door as he reached for his glasses. “What in the–”

Undyne cut him off, stalking over to him. “Sans. The bonehead has had a nightmare.”

Alex was throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed before she had even finished talking. Undyne’s hands hovered close to him as his feet got tangled in his sheets but he managed to keep upright enough to grab his desk chair before he could greet the floor with his face. He yanked the lab coat off the chair and started for the door. Undyne took off at a jog, beating him out of the room, but Alex kept pace with her down the hall as he pulled the lab coat over the undershirt he was wearing.

The trip was short. Alex’s room had been placed close to Sans’s for a reason but when they approached the room, Undyne slowed down and summoned a spear into her hand. Alex shuddered, the sensation of Sans’s magic brushing over his skin causing him to instinctually bristle. That was not a good sign. Undyne stopped at the door, looking to him. Alex couldn’t spare her the glance. He slowly crossed the threshold into Sans’s room, quickly taking in the situation.

Papyrus was already there trying to talk Sans down but that only made Alex uneasy. He quickly crossed to Papyrus and gently pulled him back as the first signs of an attack came into existence. Papyrus gave a startled yelp as he was passed off to Undyne. She pulled him back as Papyrus exclaimed, “No!! I was helping him!”

“Undyne, get Pap to the door and protect him,” Alex ordered, the attacks solidifying into bones.

“But I can help!” Papyrus argued, fighting against Undyne’s hold. “I want to help!”

“And if you get injured at this point in Sans’s recovery, there’s no getting our Sans back,” Alex countered sharply, though his glance towards the pair was apologetic. “Please, Papyrus. Let me do my job.”

Papyrus scowled but followed Undyne to the door. He stepped just past the threshold before turning around and facing the scene. Undyne placed herself before him but didn’t block his view.

Trusting Undyne and Papyrus to let him do this, he slowly approached Sans. The small skeleton was leaning forward, one arm wrapped around his chest and the other hand over his left eye. Sans was shaking as the magic rolled off him in a way that reminding Alex briefly of the surface of the sun. Funny. He seemed to like that analogy when it came to magic.

“Sans,” he called out, stepping around a few bones that were protruding through the floor. He urged, keeping his voice even and calm, “Come on, buddy. Time to wake up.”

Sans twitched on the bed and Alex jerked back, taking a step back as he twisted his body to the side. A bone narrowly missed his face, the other one missing his chest. Alex gritted his teeth. He crossed to the bed in two steps and knelt on the mattress. An attack was solidifying before Sans as if there was an enemy standing before the skeleton and, while Alex was grateful they were just bones, it was clear Sans would impale himself if they were released. Ignoring his heart pounding painfully in his chest, he knelt before the stout skeleton.

The buzz of Sans’s magic was almost overwhelming but Alex pushed through it, desperate to reach the monster still caught in a night terror. He couldn’t run like his instincts were screaming at him to do. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and Alex was suddenly out of time. His hand snapped out as he used a brutally commanding voice that had unknowingly been used by Fate in Sans’s dream.

“Wake up,” he called out as his hand made contact with Sans’s shoulder.

Sans snapped awake as the bones were released and impaled Alex’s back. Alex was thrown into him. Sans grasped at the human with a start, not understanding as his right hand gripped the back of Alex’s lab coat, his left going to Alex’s upper arm. Sans’s breath hitched as he realized that the lab coat was quickly turning red due to several of his bone attacks protruding from Alex’s back like porcupine spines. Just beyond the focus of his view of the injuries, he caught sight of a glitching health bar, one that was too distorted to make out any of the stats on and, though it disappeared when he tried to focus on it, it sent a shudder of horror through him. Even if it had been a figment of his imagination, the thought of what it could have meant left him shaking more than the night terror had.

Alex had recovered as quickly as he could and pulled back, cutting off Sans’s view of his back. Sans locked his horrified gaze onto Alex’s face. Alex had his left eye squeezed shut out of pain and his half crooked smile was tight. “Welcome to the waking world, sleepy bones,” Alex joked. Sans felt like throwing up.

Undyne and Papyrus appeared at their side, Papyrus instantly wrapping himself around his brother and spewing a string of apologies. Sans only half listened to Papyrus trying to make amends for “not waking him from such a horrible nightmare”. He watched as Alex collapsed against Undyne at the same moment Papyrus’s hug forced Sans to let the human go. Undyne carefully helped Alex off the bed, the fish monster incredibly careful. It was startling for Sans to see her be so gentle. It made his brain do a weird misfire. Sans’s hand jerked up and gripped at Papyrus’s arms as he forced out, “Alex, I…”

Alex stopped – much to Undyne’s indignation – and turned to look at Sans. He gave the smaller skeleton a smile, waving him off. “I’ll be fine. This is what I’m here for.”

Sans couldn’t tell if that was suppose to make him feel better as Undyne resumed her half-carry escort of Alex towards the door. Sans buried himself into his brother’s embrace. He blocked out the world, ignoring Alphys’s voice that cut through instructing Undyne on where to go. Silence fell as the door clicked shut and it was stifling. Papyrus must have been bothered by it as well because the taller skeleton voiced, “How about we go for a walk, Sans. I can push you out to the grounds and we can watch the snow come down.”

Sans caught the odd waver in Papyrus’s voice, the one that spoke of carefully chosen words. Sans wasn’t dense. Someone had urged Papyrus to get Sans out of the room as soon as possible so that they could change the soiled sheets. Sans pressed farther into Papyrus at the thought of the injuries he had caused the strange human. “Sure, Pap. But I don’t want to be pushed around.”

Papyrus frowned and gave him a quizzical look, though Sans could see that Papyrus already had a guess to what Sans had meant. Sans forced a small smile. It felt weird. He hoped it didn’t look weird. “Can you pass me my crutches?”

While he would have much preferred the cane, they had just started working on it the day before and he knew that he was far too exhausted to keep himself upright with one stick.

Papyrus pulled back the sheets still tangled around Sans swiftly and in such a way that Sans didn’t even get the chance to see if they had any blood on them or not even if he had wanted to. Papyrus helped him to sit on the edge of the bed before passing over the metal crutches. Sans hid his grateful sigh as Papyrus’s magic wrapped around him as he situated the crutches where they needed to be. With the aid of his brother’s magic, he was more or less upright and hobbling towards the door. Even with his magic wrapped around Sans, Papyrus kept as close to his brother as was possible.

Sans took the lead once they were in the hallway and hobbled around two humans he didn’t recognize. At first, he just picked a random direction, letting his mind wander. A memory half there took over and Sans found himself standing before an Alex that looked a bit more up kept, younger, and healthier.

He gave the younger man a look. Alex laughed. It was warm, soft, and amused; all things that Sans found were missing from the Alex he knew. Alex raised his hands, offering, “Come on, Sans. We have to figure out if someone can gain a tolerance to your magic and there’s no one better qualified than me.”

Sans felt his magic stir, his left eye coming to life as he withdrew his left hand from its pocket. He made a face, not at all ok with this situation. “I don’t see why it has to be you, Fatum. I’ve known you for a whole, what? Month now?”

“Two,” Alex corrected automatically, his expression becoming soft. “And it’s Alex. You using my last name keeps making me think you’re calling me phantom and I ain’t dead yet.”

Something flickered through Alex’s gaze too quick for Sans to make out but he was sure it wasn’t positive. Sans smirked despite the horribly timed joke on Alex’s part, joking in return in an attempt to dissipate the tense atmosphere. “Your Fate ain’t that cruel, Alex,” Sans teased.

Alex laughed at the play on his last name, clearly appreciating the attempt. “Thus, you get me as the guinea pig. Sides, there’s no one better qualified in the labs.”

Sans scoffed, encompassing Alex’s soul in magic. Alex breath hitched as the human’s hand snapped up to cover the glowing heart shape in his chest.

“We could always use an intern.”

Alex gave a bark of a laugh, refocusing his gaze on Sans. Sans frowned. He couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light or if Alex was indeed paler than what was normal for him. “We need those to be left un-traumatized, thank you very much.”

Sans gave a one shoulder shrug as he felt sweat bead down the back of his skull. Alex hadn’t dropped his hand. In fact, he now had a vice grip on the fabric over the shape and he could feel the human’s soul fluctuating. This was a really bad idea and he gave Alex one last out. “You sure you want to do this.”

The smirk he received should have been answer enough. It was dry, humorless, and every warning bell in Sans’s head went off. “I’m not backing out so you might as well go through with it.”

Sans let out a sharp burst of air through his teeth. “Your funeral,” he muttered as he raised his left hand.

He regretted his words not even a moment later.

He threw his hand out to the side till his arm was straight. He misjudged how effective his magic was going to be and watched in horror as Alex flew across the room and slammed back first into the wall before he could even begin to correct his mistake. The choked gasp cut through Sans as he lost hold of his magic. Alex slumped to the floor, a gasp of pain rushing through the human. Panic flooded Sans as Alex remained slumped over. Even from where he stood, Sans could hear Alex fighting to breath.

“Oh Gods,” Sans uttered and ran over. He slid to a stop on his knees at Alex’s side. His hands hovered over Alex as he rushed, “I was joking about the whole funeral thing.”

Alex attempted to laugh but it came out as a wheeze. Sans gave in to the urge to touch Alex and aided the man in sitting up. Alex rested his head against the wall behind him, muttering, “I’ve already got one foot in the grave so it doesn’t really matter.”

Sans tensed, his wide eyes snapping to Alex’s face. “That’s not funny, Fatum.”

Alex opened an eye even as sweat started beading his forehead. Alex attempted to give a crooked grin but it came out a grimace. “Sorry. I have this bad habit of not warning people about my condition. Just…just give me a minute.”

Sans sat back and placed the bottoms of his feet together. He leaned forward as he gripped his ankles, watching Alex. It took a while but Alex eventually got his breathing under control even though his hand hadn’t released its white knuckled grip. His face was still ashen and speckled with sweat. Alex opened his eyes but kept them focused on the ceiling. “I have Left Ventricular Non-Compaction Cardiomyopathy, a very complicated name for simply not having a fully developed left ventricle. It inhibits me from doing anything too strenuous but, thankfully,” he smirked at Sans, “science isn’t generally strenuous.”

Sans didn’t get the joke.

Alex lost the humor in his expression as he returned his gaze to the ceiling. “Smoking isn’t helping much of anything but it’s a habit I’m finding a hard time kicking. Docs think I may have some lung issues too, but they’re equating it to the smoking.” He gave a dark chuckle. “Yeah, no. My lungs have never worked right, right along with my heart.” He flinched and pressed his hand harder into his chest. Sans convulsively released his ankles but Alex was already relaxing. Dropping his hand, he sat up and looked to Sans. “Shall we try again? We need to see if I can’t build a tolerance to your magic.”

Sans sat there gaping at him. “Y…You can’t be serious! You nearly died!!” Sans argued, throwing his hands up. Alex laughed. Sans could hear the hint of strain on the edges.

“I’m fine now, Sans. Besides, if we just sit here, I may keel over dead from boredom.” Alex stood but his posture was no longer the same loose, easy going it had been earlier but Alex still offered Sans a hand and a smile. “I’m more useful alive.”

Sans took Alex’s hand and got to his feet, fully and completely agreeing with the man’s last statement though he didn’t voice it. He watched Alex return to his starting point, seeing the defensive way Alex moved. Sans had the distinct impression that he had lost a large part of his partner’s trust and he wasn’t sure if it was something he had done or if it was something he could fix.

Sans blinked and found himself before a door with a keypad, the memory fading and leaving behind a strange sensation in Sans’s bones and a weird taste on the back of his tongue. Without thinking, he unlocked the door with a flicker of fingers. The door opened to a mess of a lab.

It was Sans’s lab.

He recognized it, remembered the mess and remembered all the stuff in said mess. The impression of what had happened slammed into him like a physical blow and Sans’s legs gave out from under him. Papyrus gave a startled cry as his magic tightened around Sans.

“Sans. Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m ok, Pap,” he offered softly, getting his feet back under him.

Sans made his way over to the computer terminal. He was aware of the tightness of his soul that had nothing to do with his brother’s magic and rubbed at the dampness prickling the bones of his cheeks. Sans flicked the systems on, glancing at Papyrus once to see the skeleton standing just inside the door. Sans flopped into the desk chair and pulled up the files he was looking for.

He was not surprised to hear a soft intake of air from behind him several minutes later. He glanced over his shoulder at Alex standing just a few feet behind his chair, glasses gone and eyes skimming the screen. His lab coat and undershirt had been replaced with the button up shirt from the previous day. It was unbuttoned at the moment, revealing a wrapped chest that he had an arm wrapped around. “You found his notes,” Alex spoke breathlessly.

It wasn’t a question.

Sans didn’t answer but he felt the human’s eyes fall onto the back of his skull. Alex’s voice gained strength as he stated, almost accusingly, “You’ve been using his work.”

Sans shrugged, offering, “I had every right to.”

A deep voice spoke out. “Every right to do what?”

Sans glanced towards the door, realizing that the others had drifted in. Asgore was looking at him, having been the one to ask the question. Sans looked to Alex and found the human looking at him. Sans gave a shrug, making an off gesture at Alex in a half assed way of telling the other scientist to go for it. Sans wasn’t sure he could even be able to voice it at the moment. Too much was going on in his soul for him to make sense of so much.

Alex sighed and explained, “Sans has not only found but has apparently been utilizing the research of one Dr. W.D. Gaster, one of the first Royal Scientists of the Underground.” Alex looked to Sans but Sans kept his focused feigned on the scrolling text. “Though, I have no idea what the mad man’s work has to do with our current project. Neither of us have had a need to touch any of his old studies.”

“Old studies?” Papyrus inquired.

“Gaster had done some research into amnesia,” Sans interjected, pulling up a few files. Alex glanced over the files, recognition flickering through his eyes. “Sadly, there had been very little of his notes actually published.”

“I had forgotten about these,” Alex commented. “You found his unpublished notes?”

“What does that have to do with what you’re doing now?” Undyne snapped.

Alex looked to her, offering, “Both of us had done a few studies around amnesia during our schooling, though we had been in separate years and classes so our studies had been done individually. In our spare time over the last two years, we would talk about our old studies and the research we had done. Two of our experiments had risen out of some of those conversations.”

“Somehow we had both done a study around Dissociative and Dissociative Acute Amnesia. Gaster had published some of his notes on amnesia in general,” Sans muttered, gaining everyone’s attention. “We later discovered that every subject with any form of Acute Amnesia outside of Gaster’s study of amnesia had some sort of connection to the doc.”

Alex frowned at Sans, quickly reaching a conclusion he wasn’t sure Sans had been aiming at. Still, he looked at Papyrus. The taller skeleton was frowning at his brother but it seemed he hadn’t connected the dots fully. It was clear Papyrus knew his brother had meant something behind that statement but didn’t know what. Alphys was the one to present the final piece to Papyrus. Alex watched him as Alphys asked, “D-do you have s-some sort of c-c-connection to Dr. Gaster, Sans?”

Shock warped Papyrus’s expression before it was changed by fear as Sans gave a dry chortle, his gaze still on the screen before him. “Apparently we had been experiments of sorts. Apparently, a long time ago, we had been his play things.”

Betrayal flashed across Papyrus’s face while Sans’s expression remained emotionless. Alex reached out and touched Papyrus’s arm. Papyrus pulled away, leaving Alex’s hand suspended in the air.

It was like someone had draped a blanket over the room. The air thickened. Sans reacted to the sudden tension, turning in his chair to catch sight of his brother’s face. Sans moved without thinking. He got up to walk over to his brother’s side but, without the crutches, he was unable to keep himself upright and he collapsed. Thankfully, Papyrus was still as quick as ever, wrapping his magic around Sans and keeping the skeleton suspended mid collapse long enough to reach out and wrap his hands around Sans to support him physically.

Sans, in turn, gripped at Papyrus, urging with a frustrated expression, “I have no idea why I haven’t told you, Pap.” He sat down at Papyrus’s guidance. “I can’t remember why I never did but I would bet that timing was a big factor.”

The blatant reminder of Sans’s lack of memories was like a slap to the face for all present. It was clear Sans had remembered a good portion of information but it was still not enough for the stout skeleton. Papyrus, for his part, accepted the apology for what it was with a soft smile. He reached out and covered Sans’s hands with his own. “It’s ok. All that matters now is what happens next.” He frowned. “But I don’t understand. How were we experiments? I don’t recall this Dr. Gaster at all.”

Sans shook his head. Whether it had been a genuine answer to the question or his attempt to not tell Papyrus wasn’t divulged as Undyne snapped, “Look, what does any of this have to do with now? What the hell was this bloke working on?”

“Life and magic,” Sans supplied, frowning as he turned to the computer, “or so I’ve been able to decipher. I only have partial notes for a lot of what he worked on. There are mentions of other experiments, things possibly dealing with time and the mind.” Sans rubbed at his face and growled, “I can’t figure out what all this has to do with what had happened before my coma.” He threw his hand out – thankfully away from Papyrus – as he turned a magic burning gaze on Alex. “I know this is my lab. I know this research. I know I had been doing something but I can’t remember WHAT!” The magic flared before sputtering out as quickly as it had come, tears quickly taking the magic’s place in Sans’s eyes. Sans rubbed at the tears but the sob still broke free. “I-I can’t help but feel that if I can’t recover my memory, we’re all screwed.”

The silence was heavy, only filled with the hum from the computer and the noise from the hall. There was a pause before Alex stepped forward, placing a hand on the stout skeleton’s shoulder. He gained a watery glare. Alex doesn’t offer him a smile like he would have. It wouldn’t have come out right anyways. “In some way, that’s true.” He ignored the collective gasp from their audience. Honestly, they should have expected him to be that blunt after knowing him for so long. “You are the only one that knows the connection to Dr. Gaster’s research and our seventh experiment.

Sans straightened. “Seventh.”

Alex flinched at his slip but took it in stride as he shrugged under Sans’s demanding gaze. “Guess a history lesson wouldn’t necessarily hurt.”
The others gathered in closer, clearly understanding that this was going to be an explanation that they wanted to hear. Asgore brought a chair over for Alex as the human started to sit on the floor but Alex waved him off with a smile and sat cross legged a few feet from Sans. Papyrus quickly followed suit and sat on the floor next to Sans’s chair, a hand still on his brother’s arm.

Alex rubbed at his face, looking exhausted, but he met Sans’s gaze with a steady one of his own and a soft smile. “We live in the Underground, we being the collective of humans and monsters. Ours is one of many Undergrounds that were created to save humans and monsters alike after the war between the two turned the Overworld air toxic. Despite the success of the Undergrounds, though, the wear of time has hit some Undergrounds harder than others. We were one of the luckier ones, though not many would agree with me on that. The only thing to go wrong for our Underground has been the failing seals and we’ve been fortunate enough to have enough forewarning to do something about it. The Ruins - what was once known as Uva, the first section of the Underground - were sealed off just before the original seal broke, filling the Ruins with the toxic atmosphere.”

Alex made an off gesture. “The majority of this happened long before my lifetime and even yours and Papyrus’s. Though, I’m sure you two were created closer to the Ruins being sealed than I was.”

The dry smirk that graced Alex’s face with that statement was very reminiscent of Fate and the reminder of both the phantom and his dream was not welcomed. Sans suppressed his magic as best he could but his left eye still flickered with magic. Alex continued on, not seeming to notice the brief color change. “It was assumed that the seal between the Underground and the Ruins would hold long enough for us to find a solution but it hasn’t. 77 years ago it was discovered that the seal on the Ruins was starting to fail when several kids were found dead near the doors and countless others becoming seriously ill.” There was shifting from both Asgore and Toriel but Alex pressed on. “The leak has been contained but no one knows how long the patches will hold, let alone how long our resources for it will last so there’s still a push to find a solution. You and I are part of what remains of the network of scientists across the Undergrounds that were tasked with finding a way to deal with the Overworld atmosphere. We were on our seventh experiment in two years when…”

The words fell short as Alex gathered his thoughts. He gained a soft, pained look as he reoriented himself. “Gods, it had to have been less than a month before your accident, but you had started muttering about being close. You had done that for about two weeks before I finally got out of you that you had been tinkering with some old notes and, while you thought you had some way of getting our seventh experiment to work, you wanted to share when you had actual proof of concept. I conceded and didn’t push after that. I had no reason to. But, about the same time you started muttering about being close, you started to have night terrors. I hadn’t pinned two and two together till…”

He let the words hang, nodding towards the screen behind Sans. It still bore Gaster’s research. “I mean, nightmares were common between the two of us. With the stress of our responsibilities, it was to be expected, but the night terrors were new. At least, me waking you from them was.”

Alphys called out from where she was sitting next to Undyne, wringing her hands. “W-were you really w-w-working with such h-horrible information?”

Sans frowned at her, confused. She blushed and ducked her head. She stuttered something that sounded close to “nevermind”. Alex gained Sans’s attention with a hand on the skeleton’s knee. Alex explained, “Dr. Gaster’s known for his not-so-humane research in his later years. You may have his notes and remember quite of bit from them, but many of us have only heard the horror stories. Don’t get me wrong. The monster was brilliant. But he was also a very wicked monster. He reached a level of...well, violence that a scientist should never come close to.”

Alex tightened his grip on Sans’s knee. “I used to know you and know you well. If you were dabbling in Dr. Gaster’s work, it was for a reason. I still trust you. Both in this and our seventh experiment. You haven’t let me down yet.” Alex leaned back, offering a half cocked grin that held a hint of a grimace. It was clear Alex trusted Sans enough to not push the issue but Sans wished he would. Sans didn’t even know why he wanted Alex to push him. “Just, no sciency stuff till after your memories have returned a bit more, alright? No need to go and get yerself blown up again so soon.”

The laughter in the room broke the tension and Sans conceded with a nod. A look flickered through Alex’s gaze. Sans knew that the man was well aware he hadn’t gotten an oral promise out of the monster and Sans could tell that the man understood why. Sans was not going to make a promise he could not keep.

Alex stifled a yawn as the others started leaving. Sans looked to Papyrus as the lanky skeleton stood. He found that, while he was wired after all that, he was still tired and bed sounded like a wonderful thing. He took his crutches from Papyrus and stood carefully, his brother’s magic wrapped snugly around him.

Sans waited as Papyrus carefully helped Alex to his feet. The human swayed but he managed to remain upright. Still, Asgore had wandered over and placed a large hand on the slight human’s shoulder. “Allow me to walk you to your room, Alex.”

Alex gave the large monster a soft smile. “I’ll be fine, sir.”

“Let him walk you, Alex,” Papyrus spoke out. The human turned his gaze to the skeleton but surprised Sans by giving in without a fight, heeding Papyrus’s words. Papyrus waited till Asgore had started towards the door with Alex before turning to his brother. “Ready?”

Sans nodded and followed his brother out of the lab.

Papyrus snagged Sans the following day around midday. The duo ate a breakfast based lunch in Sans’s room before the pair went outside and wandered the grounds of the lab. Sans barely spoke as Papyrus talked and talked, telling him all about what Sans had missed during his coma, from what recipes Papyrus had learned to what was new in the entertainment industry. Sans only had to reassure Papyrus once that he was quite alright just listening. Being able to just spend time alone with his brother was enough for him but to be able to listen to and watch Papyrus gush happily over how awesome his life was was icing on the cake.

“I am not sure how I would have made it through your coma without Alex’s help,” Papyrus commented off handedly as the pair rested on a fallen tree.

Sans blinked at his brother, curious. “What do you mean?”

Papyrus looked at him as if he did not realize he had just spoken out loud. When it finally registered that he had, in fact, spoken out loud, he grinned. “Alex is the one that found you and he stayed by your side to make sure that I did not worry about your wellbeing nor feel guilty about getting rest or leaving the lab. He even went out of his way to make sure I was getting enough food and rest,” Papyrus blushed, looking away, “even going as far as drugging me so that I could rest when the worry got too much for me.”

The blush vanished as Papyrus gained a dejected look. “I just wish he had not done so by sacrificing his own health.”

Sans tensed, sitting straighter on the log. Papyrus gave him a worried look and Sans forced himself to relax. He asked, “What do you mean?”

Papyrus turned his gaze to his hands. “I know he was not eating well but I could not find a way to get him to eat. He would always say he was not hungry when I offered him some of my meal. Some nights, when I woke in the middle of the night worried, I would pause at your room to check on you and he would always be in the chair beside your bed. He would usually be up but there were moments when he was slumped in the chair asleep. It could not have been overly comfortable but I was afraid that if I covered him up or tried to move him, he would wake and he always looked so tired.” Papyrus shot Sans a soft smile. “He never complained, though. He always kept me company when I sat by your bed waiting for you to wake up.”

Sans gave his brother a half smile as a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the story. There had to be a reason why Alex would sacrifice himself for him, right?

The following days passed quickly. While small amounts of knowledge returned, Sans found that the progress was not where he would have liked it. He kept finding himself being surprised or even startled by his brother’s behavior or actions. While Papyrus was very similar to the Papyrus he had dreamt about time and time again, this one wasn’t naïve on any level and put up with Sans’s horrible puns a lot better than the Papyrus in his dream. Sans had been astonished when Papyrus had even attempted at making jokes to get him to laugh. Each attempt worked, hands down, but it was weird having Papyrus worry about him like that. It made Sans’s soul heavy to think that it was like Papyrus was attempting to make up for all the horrible things the lanky skeleton had no control over, let alone Sans.

He made the mistake of letting his mind wander and expand on that thought three times. Each time he ended up in a spiral of self loathing and feeling like he was suffocating. Thankfully, each time he broke down he was with his brother, which meant that he was talked out of the break down before it could get really bad.

It was still embarrassing.

Between the work to get him back on his own two feet without aid and the constant company of either his brother or Alex, Sans found himself answering the questions Alex had left him when he should be sleeping. He found he didn’t want to face the nightmare or night terror that may or may not be awaiting him in sleep and so, in turn, he used the determination of getting the notebook back to Alex fully answered as an excuse not to sleep. No matter how many times he proved to himself that was the worst idea he could have chosen over sleep, he would still turn to the notebook late at night after everyone had gone to sleep and jot down answers.

He quickly found that he was slowly forgetting. Almost desperate not to forget, Sans listened to the recording Alex had made all those nights ago. This, in turn, made sleep impossible till he was too exhausted to stay awake. But he did it. It took about a week but Sans eventually answered all of Alex’s questions, even the ones Sans wanted to burn.

There had been a good number of questions that had been beyond personal and insensitive but Sans found himself unable to not answer the questions. Part of it was that he was reminded that Alex was a scientist and sometimes the hard questions had to be asked. Another part of it was that Sans wanted to give Alex a complete notebook in exchange for watching over his brother when Sans could not. Sans glanced down at the closed notebook in his hand as he hobbled through the lab leaning heavily on his cane. With the notebook finally finished, Sans wanted to get it out of his possession as soon as possible.

His grip tightened on the bound paper. Hopefully he would have the determination needed to ask the question he had been sitting on for an entire week, consequences be damned.

He found Alex where he thought he would; down a secluded hallway and out onto an unused terrace tucked into the building’s structure. It was hidden enough to be unseen by anything on the grounds and still have a grand view of the Underground. Alex was leaning on the railing taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Sans commented as Alex looked over his shoulder at him, letting the breath of smoke out in a quick blow.

Alex grinned at him. “Always here for a smoke break,” he replied cockily, scooting over to give Sans room at the rail. Alex took another pull of his cigarette as Sans took up the offered space. There was a brief pause before Alex offered, “Good to see you getting out and about for some mostly fresh air on your own.”

Sans gave a nod of agreement. The anxiety from the what ifs around his question eating at his soul, making it feel as if there was something pressing on his chest. Alex snuffed out the spent cigarette in the ash tray a few minutes later and was working on lighting a second one by the time Sans had gotten around his discomfort of the situation and offered the notebook to Alex with a simple, “Here.”

Alex looked at him, newly lit cigarette dangling between slacking lips. Alex quickly plucked the cigarette from his lips as he took the notebook, asking excitedly, “You answered some of them?”

Alex started flipping through the pages as Sans corrected him. “I answered all of them.”

The notebook gave a pathetic slap when Alex forced its pages closed. Alex’s gaze locked onto Sans in an instant. Sans kept his gaze on the Underground. Several things flickered across Alex’s face out of the corner of Sans’s eye, regret settling at last on the human’s face. “Sans, I…A lot of these were insensitive and extremely rude of me to even consider asking. You shouldn’t have answered them.”

Sans merely gave a shrug. Turning away, Alex leaned heavily on the rail, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He let the smoke out in a sharp breath as Sans commented, “You’d been right.”

“Bout what?” Alex drawled, his lips curling towards a snarl as he brought the cigarette to his lips again.

Sans glanced at Alex. The look in Alex’s eyes confirmed the bitterness had not been directed at the stout skeleton. He returned his gaze to the Underground as he explained, “When you said that time would muddle what I remembered. I had to listen to the audio you had recorded several times to remember what I had forgotten.”

Sans caught Alex flinching beside him. “Sans, I–”

“I’m glad,” Sans cut him off. “A part of me was desperately trying to bury what I had gone through and was trying to realign myself with this timeline. But you were right. You said that my experience had changed me, that the timelines had been beyond real to me. If you hadn’t documented it all when I had first woken up, I doubt I would have been able to live past it.”

Silence thick and tense settled between them. Sans didn’t break it. The ball was in Alex’s court now. Eventually, Alex put his cigarette out in the ashtray, offering, “I…” He sighed, changing his mind. “Thank you. For the answers.”

Sans dropped his gaze to just over his crossed arms as Alex took his leave. “Let Pap read those if he wants to, ok?” he called out, hearing Alex’s footfall stop somewhere behind him. He could feel Alex’s gaze on him, could feel his own magic swirling in his left eye as he gathered the determination to go through with his initial question, and prayed to whatever deity was listening that the lights of the Underground hid the glow of his magic lit eye. Gods above, it had been a long time since he had been this anxious over asking a simple question.

“Sure,” Alex finally responded. The human turned once more but Sans reached out blindly with his magic, his inner turmoil pushing him to make sure Alex didn’t leave before he’d gotten the chance to form the words. He regretted the action almost as soon as he registered it.

The notebook slapped against the pavement near Alex’s feet when Sans’s magic wrapped around Alex’s soul. The sound alone would have been enough to make him lose his hold but, instead, it was the sensation that would have made his skin crawl had he any skin. He could feel Alex under his magic, feel the human’s pulse quickening, his breathing stuttering, and the soul that filled the body reacting to his magic in a way that was both fascinating and terrifying. It was foreign and familiar, causing Sans jerk back as if he had been burned. The magic fell away

“Sans,” Alex questioned, his voice raspy and breathless, a hand gripping where the magic had been.

Sans shoved the regret aside as he rushed, “What were we before my coma?”

Alex gave a strangled smile, offering in confusion, “Colleagues, friends. I don’t–”

“Pap told me what you did during my coma,” Sans urged, his fists tightening convulsively as his magical eye flickered yellow. Alex flinched, hand pressing harder into his chest as the magic snaked out towards him again. Sans reined it back, unable to snuff out his eye “He told me how you would remain at my side just to ease his worry, how you stopped taking care of yourself in order to make sure he was healthy when I woke up.”

Alex shook his head. “I wasn’t about to let him run himself ragged,” he urged. “You would have killed me if I had let that happen.” A bitter smirk crossed the human’s face. “Figuratively speaking.”

“But why?!” Sans snapped, his magic flaring again. Alex jerked back, hitting the door hard as a pained gasp escaping him. Sans jerked back, unable to rein in his magic or his emotions. Alex looked at him, his eyes tearing up – whether from pain or something else, Sans couldn’t tell – and an expression Sans couldn’t read. Sans felt disgusting.

“Because at some point in the two years we’ve known each other, you’ve considered me family. You and Papyrus.” Sans tried to gain control over his emotions and magic but Alex’s words were making the chaos in his own mind and soul even worse. “I did what I did because I didn’t want the two brothers that had taken me in to suffer when I could mitigate the damage, even if only a small extent.”

“But we were nothing more.”

The accusation was like a slap to the face and Alex recoiled from it, his eyes wide and the realization in them proving how sharp the human’s mind truly was. Alex knew what Sans was unable to ask directly, the question Sans had been sitting on since his brother had told him of Alex’s actions. A toxic blend of emotions created Alex’s expression as he slowly shook his head as if to deny it all, stating, “You know I can’t answer that.” Sans broke his gaze from Alex, turning his head away. This is not how he had wanted this to go. Not at all. Alex pressed on. “And I know you know why. You’re still highly intelligent, Sans. You would have gone through every repercussion to every single, possible response to that question, regardless if it was a lie or a truth.” Sans looked back at Alex, a conflicted expression on his face. Alex tried for a reassuring smile. It didn’t look right. “It doesn’t matter what we were. What matters is what you choose from this point forward.”

Something bitter coursed through Sans and it left a sour taste in his mouth. “That’s not fair,” Sans croaked.

Alex gave a dry chuckle. “Not sure how that’s not fair. You get–”

“It’s not fair to you!” Sans snapped, cutting him off. Alex flinched from the shout and Sans felt regret course through him again.

Alex blinked at him before laughing. It was too sharp and a tad too hysterical. Sans took a startled step back, his magic flaring briefly in response. Thankfully the flare had been more upwards than outwards, leaving Alex untouched. Part of it had been from the sudden laugh that sounded so wrong. Part of it was from the brief flicker of a distorted, glitching health bar at the bottom of Sans’s vision, something that left Sans feeling as if he was back in his coma and he quickly shoved the sensation away as Alex spoke again. “Fair? Now how could that particular question be fair to either party?” Alex’s expression tightened and Sans wasn’t quite sure what he was reading in it. A part of his swore he saw sorrow. Alex pressed on. “Do you know how hard it would be to not feel or fear that the relationship was nothing more than an obligation? We’re strangers, Sans, whether we’d like to admit it or not.” Alex grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We act familiar with one another but we’re not. I do it out of habit but there are moments – a very large number of them, mind you – where it is painfully clear you are not the Sans I remember. Oh, you’re still our Sans, but you’ve lived through something none of us will be able to relate to. You’ve changed in such a short amount of time and we’re still reeling from it.” A tear escaped down Alex’s cheek and he swiped viciously at it. He kept talking, pushing on as if he couldn’t stop. “Whatever we had been, Sans, is a mute point. And the only one that can decide what happens from here on out is you.”

“But that’s not fair,” Sans cut in sharply, his magic flaring in his confliction. Alex flinched at its touch. Sans urged, “You should have some say in it too. You’re a part of the damn equation!”

Alex snorted. Sans bristled. “Sans, I cannot hold you responsible for keeping up a persona you no longer are. I have two years on you of memories! Information about who you were and what you were like. Half of it doesn’t even seem to count anymore!”

Sans glared at him but hurt was seeping into his anger. Alex had a very strong point but stating it like that only made Sans remember just how much of an imposter he truly was. He took a step back, bumping into the railing. This whole situation was going to hell in a hand basket and Sans had no way of repairing any of the damage being created. He was suddenly reminded of the memory that had returned after his initial night terror, the memory of when he had used his magic on Alex for the first time.

Sans felt sick.

Alex lost the humor on his face as he spoke, “Sans. Life has never been fair to me. I was born with a heart defect and damaged lungs. The only member of my family that actually cared about me was my mom,” Alex’s voice cracked, several more tears streaking down his face as he fought to keep his composure; he rubbed at his wet cheeks to try and deny what they were showing, “till she died and then I was ostracized and shunned because of something I had been born with. I had to fight to get anywhere in school and I ended up with you.” The smile that graced Alex’s lips was heartbreakingly soft, nostalgic. Sans had the sudden urge to step forward, as if Alex would break apart if he didn’t hold the man together. He shuddered, confused by his own instinctual reaction. Alex didn’t seem to notice as he met Sans’s gaze. “I’m glad for that last one. I wouldn’t trade these last two years for nothing but it wasn’t something I had initially had a choice in. We both fought it and each other in the beginning. It was a bumpy start but we figured things out relatively quickly.” The smile fell. “Sans.” Sans flinched but kept Alex’s gaze. “Life isn’t fair. But you have a devoted, loving brother and one stubborn human for a lab partner that you’re stuck with and neither are going to leave you, regardless of how much you’ve changed. You’re still our Sans, no matter what.”

Sans’s magic flickered out of existence, returning his left eye to an empty socket to match his right one as Sans dropped his gaze. Alex used the wall as support as he bent over to scoop up the notebook. He straightened, only to look unstable on his feet and unnaturally pale. Sans felt his magic surge forward again but he pulled it back, knowing that doing anything more would only cause more damage. Alex gave him a strained smile and Sans got the distinct feeling that Alex was hiding something just so Sans wouldn’t worry.

“I’ll make sure Papyrus has access to this,” Alex assured, gesturing with the notebook as his smile fell. “And you as well. If at any point you want it back, just grab it. I’ll just put it in a safe place.”

Alex turned and left, leaving Sans alone on the terrace. As soon as the door clicked shut, Sans turned, reaching for the rail as his legs gave out from under him. Out of all he had expected to happen from him attempting to ask the question, this had not been it. He had not even humored the idea that this could have been a consequence. A sob wrenched itself from his chest as he pressed his face against the bars, berating himself for his stupidity. He should have never asked. He should have kept it all to himself. Now there was a gigantic rift between him and the only person beyond his brother that he seemed to be at ease with. He choked on a second sob as an unfamiliar grief tore through him. He couldn’t even remember Alex and yet here he was grieving as if he had lost someone dear to him forever.

He was certain, in some way, he had.

It didn’t matter. What was done was done. He curled closer to the bars as he fought to keep his magic from spilling out with his emotions and causing more damage than it already had. Gods above, he was a mess.

Not far from the terrace access, Alex was in his personal lab sitting against a wall, glasses discarded somewhere and his gaze on nothing in particular. He had walked into his lab, had gathered a stack of loose papers and books and had settled to get to work on the floor only to find himself staring off into space with his thoughts nowhere in particular. He came to when Papyrus suddenly appeared before him, a careful, solid hand on his arm.

“Ah, Papyrus,” Alex commented, moving to stand. His face felt weird and he rubbed at it with the back of his arm. It came back a bit damp and he rubbed at his face to make sure it was dry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. How was work?”

“Are you alright, Alex?”

Alex looked to the lanky skeleton, barely seeing the worry on the monster’s blurry face. Alex nodded, a soft smile gracing his features. “I’m fine, Pap. Just a little off.” He turned to look for his glasses but Papyrus wrapped a hand around his arm. Alex looked back at him, covering the appendage. “I’m fine. Honest. It’ll pass.”

“Did something happen with Sans?”

Alex stiffened under Papyrus’s hold, his smile faltering on his face as he tried to present it. “Why…”

“Sans had told me yesterday he intended to speak with you today.” Alex couldn’t see all that well but he was sure Papyrus’s gaze was searching. For what, Alex couldn’t fathom. “Did you speak with Sans?”

“He caught me on my smoke break.”

“What did you talk about?”

Alex slipped out of Papyrus’s grip, offering a smile that didn’t feel right. “We just talked, Pap. Nothing to worry about. He even gave me back the notebook I had given him.” He frowned, looking around. “Where did I put it? He had wanted you to have access t–”

“Did he ask about your relationship before his coma?”

Alex flinched. In all the moments for Papyrus to be keener than he appeared, this was the worst time. Alex debated on whether or not to lie but then figured that his reaction had already given him away. With a sigh, he answered honestly. “Yes.”

“And?”

Alex gave a breathy chuckle, trying to play it all off. “And nothing. I didn’t answer his question.”

Alex was turned around gently by a hand on his shoulder and he came face to face with Papyrus. “Then why do you look like hell?”

Alex shrugged, pulling his gaze from the skeleton. He rubbed at his neck, not sure he had an answer for that. He wasn’t even sure on why he looked like hell in the first place. Papyrus released Alex’s shoulders but the look he was giving Alex made the human want to squirm. “You didn’t tell him about the–”

“What would have come from that?” Alex asked quickly and sharply, the question coming out almost like a barked laugh as he grew defensive, quickly cutting Papyrus off before the monster could finish that sentence. “You’re just as intelligent as your brother, Papyrus,” Alex challenged, quickly turning the conversation back around to the beginning. “You can figure out the consequences to such a question for both parties involved, regardless if they’re the questioner or the questioned. Doesn’t matter if there was or wasn’t anything before his coma. What matters is what he decides to do from here on out.”

Alex turned, suddenly finding his glasses. He picked them up, offering, “I have work to do down in the main work space.” He grabbed a few things and started for the door.

“Was there something between you two?” Papyrus called out. “Before his coma?”

Alex looked to him, a tight smile gracing his features at the look of confused determination on the skeleton’s face. “Papyrus, I didn’t answer his question.”

Alex left Papyrus in the work space, fully aware that he didn’t even give Papyrus the satisfaction of a straight denial of his question. Alex sighed, shoving the stuff under his arm up a bit higher. Later. He would deal with it all later.
The next few weeks passed in a blur as the lab got back into the swing of things, sweeping Sans up in the process. Before he knew it, he was wandering around without a cane and returning to some semblance of normalcy in the hectic chaos that seemed to be the lab’s natural state of existence. Strangely, Sans saw less and less of Alex.

But, even as the lab returned to its natural state, a tension started to appear between the other scientists and Sans was unable to be oblivious to it when it started to become palpable. He was well aware that many were still acting stiffly around him. While part of that was normal due to his occasional night terror (he would forever be grateful that nightmares were now a whole lot more common and a whole lot less violent upon waking up) and his lack of remembering a good number of those that worked in the lab, he could tell something had shifted recently. He just couldn’t put his finger on what.

He entered the dining room, smiling at the familiar faces and not so familiar faces. Alphys, Undyne, Asgore, and several humans Sans was still remeeting were already seated at the table. Some monsters and humans mingled about as Papyrus and Toriel were still bringing in food from the attached kitchen, along with another human and several monsters. Sans took his customary seat across from where his brother normally sat and greeted the others warmly.

He looked up at his brother as Papyrus placed a large platter of pork chops in the middle of the table. “You help cook tonight, Pap?”

“Of course,” Papyrus replied happily, placing the bowl of mashed potatoes a bit farther down the table. “I am always glad to help out in the kitchen when the opportunity presents itself.”

Sans chuckled. “Learning lots?”

Papyrus placed a heavy hand on Sans’s shoulder, grinning. “Always.”

It took a while but eventually everyone settled at the table. Sans happily pulled a pork chop onto his plate, well aware his brother was watching him. He took the proffered bowl of mashed potatoes from Toriel and piled some on his plate, exchanging quick quips with her as he in turned passed her the stuffing. Talk was light and fun and Sans found himself content in the group of familiar and not-so-familiar faces and absolutely delicious food. He really had to hand it to Papyrus; the skeleton knew how to cook and Sans was grateful for that.

“I should not be surprised that he forgot come to dinner like he had promised.”

Sans looked up at his brother only to find Papyrus’s gaze on the empty chair to Sans’s right. Sans glanced at the chair himself, not following. “Who didn’t come to dinner?”

“Alex.”

Sans’s grip convulsed around the knife in his hand. Ah. So that explained Alex’s absence. He was avoiding Sans. Sans had no idea why but he did know that he hadn’t seen his “lab partner” in what had to be two weeks now and it had to stop.

Sans looked to Papyrus, offering a smile. “I’m sure he’s just caught up in his work, Pap.”

Papyrus nodded and went back to his plate but the dejected look remained on the skeleton’s face. Sans felt the corners of his smile twitch towards a frown. He was not about to share his sudden revelation with his brother. He made his smile grow, suggesting, “Why don’t we take a plate down to him when we’re done? I’m sure he could use the distraction.”

Papyrus looked up, surprise quickly turning into pleasure. “That is a great idea, brother. How did I not think of such a simple solution?”

Sans chuckled, the smile slipping into a real one. “Worry eats at the intelligent brain, dear brother of mine. I’m sure you would have cooked something similar up sooner or later.”

Papyrus choked on the bite he had taken and, while there were several moans and groans from those that had overheard, Papyrus’s eyes danced with joy at the pun.

But when guilt quickly followed suit, Sans’s own joy fell. It wasn’t hard to figure out what the guilt had been and he hated the reminder that he was just an impersonator in this timeline. No matter how hard he tried to get back what he had forgotten, the amount that was still black in his mind was overwhelming.

Dinner was over soon thereafter. Sans pitched in to clean up the mess as Papyrus put together a tray for Alex. Sans bit back his opinion when he caught sight of such a large meal. He was pretty certain Alex would barely touch a third of the food even if the scientist needed to consume all that Papyrus was preparing for him. Instead, he grinned and offered, “Looks great, bro. He’ll certainly appreciate the thought.”

Papyrus smiled and followed Sans down to Alex’s personal lab. Sans stopped at the access panel and imputed his personal code. The door opened without a hitch.

Sans froze just over the threshold.

Irrational terror seized him by the throat and slashed the breath from his body. His magic flared as panic threw itself into the toxic blend. The sound of the tray and its contents crashing to the floor barely registered in his brain as he tried desperately to breathe, to get away from something he couldn’t even see.

His limbs wouldn’t respond.

Magic burst from his left socket as pain erupted from the right. It felt like he was burning, as if flames were licking at his feet and attempting to swallow him whole. The world spun around him. He felt like he was falling. The face that swam into view was nothing he recognized, let alone register any features that would have told him who the figure was. Smoke swirled around him, burned his face and stung his already burning sockets. There was something– no, someone coming towards him and he knew that he had to do something, had to react or they were going to hurt Papyrus. They were going to hurt his brother and another but he couldn’t remember who else he was trying to protect. Who else was he trying to save?

“SANS!”

Sans jerked away but Alex’s firm grip on his shoulders only tightened. Sans gasped for breath, his entire body shaking as the world around him snapped back into place. Whatever he had lived through, whatever memory he had just relived, was slipping through his fingers as he shoved aside the rolling emotions to focus on whatever Alex’s gaze swiftly moved to behind him. Sans turned to look up at Papyrus only to find the taller skeleton not at his normal height. Movement below him drew his eyes to his brother curled up as small as he could with his long limbs, hands over the back of his skull and knees on either side.

Sans couldn’t remember a time he had seen Papyrus so small even as fragments of flame consumed memories flickered through his mind before disappearing completely, the sensation of having seen this before, if not quite like this. It made no sense but then Sans didn’t ponder on it long enough to figure out why.

Sans stepped out of Alex’s grasp surprisingly easily seeing as how tightly the other had held on. He knelt beside Papyrus, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his brother’s arm. This close, he could hear faint whispers coming from his brother but whatever Papyrus was saying, it was too faint and too garbled for Sans to make out. Papyrus flinched from Sans’s touch but Sans kept his hand flush to his brother’s arm.

“Papyrus,” he croaked. Sans swallowed. His throat felt like he had been screaming. Had he screamed? He couldn’t remember now. “Hey, Pap. Look at me.”

There was a sharp intake of air as the stream of words suddenly came to a halt and Papyrus’s head came up enough for his big, terror filled sockets to lock onto Sans. Iridescent blue tears were streaming down the lanky skeleton’s face, the same color as the Patient soul Papyrus possessed, and Sans had no doubt he had his own iridescent blue tear tracks, his mirroring his Integrity soul. Sans rubbed at the tears on Papyrus’s face, asking, “You with me?”

Papyrus sniffed, slowly uncurling to sit on the floor as he rubbed at his other cheek. He nodded, reaching out with both hands and rubbing away the tears on Sans’s cheeks. Papyrus gently pulled on him and Sans moved forward without resisting. He settled down in Papyrus’s lap, the lanky skeleton wrapping around him. Sans, in turn, held onto his brother’s arms, gladly giving his brother whatever comfort he needed. Sans needed it just as desperately.

“I’ve seen day terrors before, but I’ve never seen one so extreme in two people simultaneously.” Sans looked up at Alex’s soft notation. Papyrus had buried his face into his brother’s shoulder and Sans doubted Papyrus would move anytime soon. Alex knelt, looking from Papyrus to Sans. “Whatever you two went through, whatever got triggered, was really bad. Sometimes, in severe enough cases, a monster’s own magic will recreate any physical injuries that had occurred at the time of the initial trauma, even a day or two after the attack. It would probably be best if you both talked with an actual doctor relatively soon.”

“Thought you were a doctor, Dr. Fatum,” Sans challenged, unable to keep from cracking a joke, a smirk graced his face even as his voice cracked in turn.

Alex relaxed at the quip, standing with a snort. “So are you but you don’t see anyone lining up for treatment.”

Papyrus let out a burst of air in a huff of a laugh against Sans’s shoulder. Sans chortled but what humor had been there was quickly dashed at Alex’s question.

“Do you happen to remember what you recalled?”

Papyrus flinched but didn’t respond and Alex didn’t press. Sans, for his part, shook his head as he rubbed one of Papyrus’s arms. “No. And I wish I did.” Sans rubbed at his right socket. “If for nothing else to know what the heck had triggered us.” Sans looked at what he could see of Papyrus’s skull. “Do you remember anything, Pap?”

Sans nearly took the question back but Papyrus simply sighed into his shoulder, muttering, “Only the echoes of terror. It all seems rather fickle now that it has passed.”

Sans looked up to Alex but the human was shaking his head. “I heard and I’m grateful even if that’s odd. I’d rather you two not suffer from memories you’ve clearly forgotten.”

Sans hummed in agreement but said nothing more. After a moment, his brother shift around him. Alex stood and put some distance between. Sans was rather disappointed. He wouldn’t admit that a part of him was a bit concerned as well.

“I’m sorry about your dinner, Alex,” Papyrus offered. He stood Sans up before clambering to his own feet.

Alex waved him off. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll just go to the kitchen and snag some leftovers. I need out of the lab anyways.”

“Cleaning supplies?”

Alex gestured at the cabinet behind Papyrus. “If there’s something else you need, there’s a janitorial closet down the hall.”

Papyrus went off to the cabinet as Sans leaned over and picked up the tray. “You shouldn’t let him worry so much, Alex.”

Alex gave him a strained smile. “I try not to but you know me: easily lost in work.”

Actually, he didn’t, but Sans felt it wouldn’t help to state the obvious. “The avoidance is new, though,” Sans replied, his gaze on the dishes he was gathering.

There was a pause before Alex replied, “I wasn’t trying to avoiding you, Sans. I have weeks worth of work to catch up on before bosses start breathing down both our necks and I’m attempting to avoid them putting pressure on you while you’re still recovering.”

Sans looked up but Alex had moved away to one of the tables in the rather sizable room. It was one of many completely trashed with bits and pieces and all sorts of notes everywhere. Sans finally took in the entirety of the lab and the larger picture was just as wrecked as the couple of tables he had first seen. One wall was completely covered by papers and pictures, a few strands of string here and there to tie some sections together. He could make out his own handwritten notes mingled in with the same handwriting that had filled a notebook full of questions over a month ago. Some pages were dominated by one handwriting or the other but a large amount had both handwritings scrawled across the pages, even the typed pages had notes scrawled in the margins and over the text in both handwritings. He caught sight of nearby pages and his gaze roved over them quickly.

The situation slammed into him, hard.

They were running out of time.

They were running out of time and Alex was doing everything in his power to compensate for Sans’s lack of memory by trying to figure out something – anything – that could at least delay the inevitable for just a little longer.

Papyrus reappeared with some supplies and Sans took a shaky breath to re-center himself. He could worry about the end of days and his lack of contribution towards a solution later. Right now, he had to help Papyrus clean up a mess. Alex didn’t come near them, falling back into work without a glance in their direction. Sans glanced his way once while cleaning and was surprised when there was a lack of negative emotions towards the human. In fact, a part of him was amused and the other part relieved. Though he couldn’t remember, it seemed that Alex had been speaking the truth; the human was easily sucked into whatever challenge had been set before him.

“You sure you don’t want us to bring you food, Alex?” Papyrus clarified.

Alex looked up, blinking at them from behind his glasses. It took a second but his brain finally registered what had been asked because he gave a sheepish grin. “I’m sure, Pap. I can only ignore my bladder for so long so I’ll grab food after a restroom break.”

Papyrus nodded, a determined look on his face as he turned and walked out. Sans followed after, waving back at Alex. “Get some sleep some time tonight, partner.”

Alex waved at him and gave a hum in response but the human was already turning back to whatever he had been looking at. Sans sighed as the lab was left behind. He hoped his memories came back soon. He didn’t need to be the reason Alex keeled over dead from overworking.

That was a thing, right? Whether it was or wasn’t, knowing he wasn’t there to help made him feel exhausted. He couldn’t imagine shouldering all that stress by himself and he had lived through numerous resets where he had been powerless to do anything.

The dining room was dark but there was still a light on in the kitchen. Some human was there leaning against the counter opposite of the running microwave, a bowl already warm being consumed. They nodded in greeting to the brothers but returned their attention to the microwave as it beeped. Papyrus disposed of the waste while Sans placed the dishes and tray into the sink. He turned on the water to as hot as his bones could handle and started to wash the soiled dishware.

“Have a good night,” the human spoke, exiting the room.

“You too, Mavis,” Papyrus called out in response. Their interaction was a fleeting notice in Sans’s mind as he got lost in thought.

There had to be a way for him to help. Maybe he could get Alex to talk him through what they had already done. After all, it wasn’t like Sans wasn’t remembering so telling him things that he should have remembered shouldn’t hurt, right? That way there wouldn’t be a need for Papyrus to be disappointed when Alex didn’t show for dinner and Sans could stop feeling like Alex was avoiding him.

He shouldn’t have asked his question.

“Sans, are you alright?”

Sans jerked and splashed hot, soaping water all down his front and across the counter. He took a step away from the sink as he groaned softly. And that’s what he got for getting lost in thought. Papyrus was already there cleaning up the mess, though, and Sans quickly rinsed the bowl in his hand. “Thanks, Pap.” His shirt was already starting to cool and he suppressed a shudder. “I’m ok, bro. Just tired.”

Papyrus took the proffered bowl now free of soap, all nice and clean, and dried it. Sans turned off the water and grabbed a nearby hand towel to attempt to get some of the water out of his shirt. It wasn’t till he was almost done getting what moisture he could out of his shirt that Papyrus spoke up again.

“Do you know anything about our...episode earlier?”

Sans shook his head as he dried his hands and forearms. “Nope. Though, I do have my suspicions. With what notes of Gaster’s I remember and have read since, I don’t think there’s much stretching of the imagination to say that it was associated with that monster. I just don’t know exactly what the episode was about, let alone what triggered it.”

Silence fell over the kitchen broken only by the soft clink of Papyrus putting the bowl away. Sans hung the hand towel back up feeling oddly disconnected from all of it.

“I’m going to go make sure Alex takes a break,” Papyrus voiced, resting a perceptive gaze onto Sans. “You’d best head to bed, Sans. You look exhausted.”

Sans chuckled. “When am I not?” Stepping away from the counter, he smiled softly at his brother. “I’ll see you at breakfast, then?”

Papyrus nodded.

They shared a brief hug before parting ways in the hallway.

His room seemed far colder than it normally was as the orange light of his lamp filled the room. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to attempt to sleep but he wasn’t sure he had much of a choice in the matter. Switching into pjs of sorts was easy, though, and made it far easier to at least climb into bed. Exhaustion pulled at every bone but Sans was certain his mind was too chaotic to fall into anything peaceful.

He didn’t know just how right he was.

Alex jumped, blinking at the door as someone pounded on it briefly. He pushed his glasses up to rub at his eyes before he glanced at the clock. It was too early in the morning for someone to be pounding on his door. Whoever was outside his door pounded on it again. Reluctantly, he left his work. “This best be quick,” he grumbled to himself. He didn’t have any time to waste.

He keyed the door open and it slid apart to reveal a very nervous and very flustered yellow dinosaur monster. “Alphys?” he questioned, surprised. His grumpy mood deflated a bit as his brain focused on the conversation. Work could wait for a brief moment; she never bothered him in his lab, let alone pound on any door. He needed the break anyways. “What-”

“I-it’s Sans,” she stuttered, ringing her hands. “H-he’s h-having a n-night terror.”

She hadn’t even finished the last two words before Alex was already running. She kept right with him, rushing, “Undyne and Pa-Papyrus are trying t-to wake him.”

Alex scoffed, taking the stairs three at a time. He didn’t bother to wait for Alphys as she quickly fell behind.

He had been made Sans’s partner for a reason. He had been trained with Sans’s magic for a reason.

Undyne and Papyrus’s voices reached him as he rounded the corner. Toriel was outside the room with two others. They looked his way but moved when he didn’t slow down. Grabbing the door frame, Alex made the sharp turn into utter chaos.

Undyne has a spear in hand but she was on the defensive, attempting to keep Papyrus behind her even though he was fighting her protection. Papyrus was talking, trying to get his brother to hear him, to see him, but Alex could tell that whatever Sans was seeing, it wasn’t this.

“Sans!” he called out, already halfway into the room. Sans’s gaze snapped to him and Papyrus used the lull in attacks to get closer. Sans didn’t let him get far, throwing the lanky skeleton into Undyne with a flick of the wrist and blue magic pulsing. The pair crashed to the floor and Alex felt fear and adrenaline fill his veins as Sans rounded on him. Sans lashed out, blue magic engulfing Alex’s soul. Alex only had enough time to let out a startled breath before he was slammed into the wall.

Sans shouted in an odd language, one that seems to not quite work in his ears. The only thing he gleaned from Sans’s shouting, though, was what the night terror was most likely about. That was the last clear thought Alex had before his mind was engulfed in white.

Papyrus came to with a start, a familiar scream still ringing through his skull. It took his brain a moment to process that the scream had not been part of his dream and any drowsiness remaining vanished. He threw back the covers and raced out of his room. His long strides took him into Sans’s room where he found the stout skeleton sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Sans?” Papyrus inquired gently. Sans’s gaze snapped to him. It felt like he had been drenched in ice at the sight of the blue magic pouring from Sans’s left socket, right empty of its normal pupil light. Papyrus ignored the fact that Sans wasn’t really looking at him as he stepped farther into the room. He brought his hands up hoping that his brother would be more at ease with seeing his palms. “Sans, are you ok? You with me, brother?”

Heavy footfall behind him told him Undyne and Alphys had shown up. He ignored them too. “Sans?”

Undyne gripped his arm, suddenly behind him and armed. “Papyrus,” she ordered, gaining his gaze. “Don’t.”

“Let him go,” Sans snarled. Papyrus looked back at Sans, excited, but his excitement diminished when he saw the bones materialize around the stout skeleton. Undyne pulled Papyrus back forcefully, guarded. The bones shot towards them and Undyne blocked a good number of them. “Let. Him. Go.”

“The hell is he speaking?” snarled Undyne, grabbing Papyrus and pulling him to the ground as a barrage of bones sliced through the space they had just been occupying.

“You can’t understand him?” Papyrus asked, as Undyne got up, blocking another attack. She shot him a startled look, demanding, “You can?!”

Papyrus got up, sidestepping an attack that slipped past Undyne’s defense. He didn’t answer her question, though, calling to Sans, “Sans, please. It’s me, Papyrus.”

There was a flicker, a fault in the coming attack and Papyrus thought he saw Sans return to himself for a brief moment, a flicker in his sockets. But, whatever progress he had made was shattered when Alex came in, calling Sans’s name. Papyrus took the diversion to slip around Undyne. He didn’t even make it half way before his soul was turned blue and he was thrown into Undyne, slamming into the floor painfully. Papyrus rolled off of Undyne as he watched Alex slam into the wall, the blue soul in his chest blazing with Sans’s magic. Pain flickered across Alex’s now pale face as sweat started beading the pale skin.

“You! I’ll end you!” Sans shouted and Papyrus watched as something dawned on Alex just before Sans embedded an attack into Alex’s torso. Alex gave a strangled scream.

“Sans!” Papyrus cried out, leaping towards his brother. “No!”

Sans lashed out at him blindly, catching Papyrus by surprise. Papyrus landed hard on his rump in an attempt to dodge the attack and still ended up getting nicked; a bone scrapped the side of his skull. “Sans!” Papyrus choked. “Don’t.”

Somehow, someway, that did the trick. As Papyrus sat there, a hand on the throbbing scrape on his cheekbone and tears pricking the back of his sockets, he watched as Sans awoke staring at him. Sans’s gaze didn’t remain on his brother, though. Sans looked to where his magic was active and jerked back as if he had been burned, the magic in the room dissipating in a heartbeat, all physical attacks dissipating. Alex collapsed to the floor a foot and a half beneath him with a groan. Alphys ran to Alex’s side as Undyne got up hesitantly to join her. Papyrus missed the wary look she cast Sans as she passed behind the lankier skeleton. Sans took a step back, his hand curling at his chest. He turned to Papyrus in hesitation and Papyrus watched with bated breath as Sans seemed to war something out in his head before reaching towards him. Papyrus felt relief flood him as he shifted his weight to take Sans’s hand. He involuntarily flinched as he rolled on a very sore part of his rump. Sans instantly jerked his hand back and Papyrus could clearly see on Sans’s face what Sans had interpreted the flinch as. Papyrus reached out towards Sans, his brother’s name on his tongue, but Sans left the safety of the lab in a final burst of magic.
It was like time had stopped as Papyrus’s outstretched hand reached for San but the skeleton was gone and Papyrus blinked. He was suddenly aware of all who were in the room and all who were not.

“Sans!” Papyrus scrambled to his feet rather poorly, catching a glimpse of Alex when Undyne moved to follow after Sans as well.

“No,” Alex spoke, a hand brushing Undyne’s leg. She stopped anyway, looking down at him. Papyrus stilled as well, but he was clenching and unclenching his hands. Why was Alex stopping them from going after Sans? Alex looked at Papyrus as best he could, uttering, “Go calm down your brother and bring him back. Too many people go after him and he’ll only run more.”

Papyrus nodded, taking off towards his room as Undyne started to argue Alex’s decision. Papyrus dodged around Toriel and the others that had gathered outside the room. He stopped in his room long enough to grab one of the hoodies his brother had gotten him and his boots, shoving both over his pajamas before taking off after his brother. He just hoped he would be able to find him.

Papyrus hesitated when he stepped outside the lab. Even in the Underground, there was enough of a shift in the lights to dictate that it was still early in the morning. The area was bathed in an odd light that lit up the area but didn’t. He remembered someone comparing the half light at night to having the full moon shine down on a clear night. Papyrus wondered if that was an accurate statement as he just picked a direction and went with it.

The first time he ran through the faint traces of Sans’s magic, Papyrus nearly cried. The relief of knowing he was going in the right direction was overwhelming and Papyrus hurried on.

Papyrus was grateful that his brother had been too exhausted to make proper shortcuts. The magical footprints Sans was leaving behind were unusual, especially when his brother’s shortcuts normally left nothing to even hint that Sans had been there to begin with.

When he came across a pile of snow that had an impression of what looked like Sans’s face, he hoped he wasn’t too far behind. Movement ahead showed he was right on Sans’s tail and Papyrus hurried after his brother. He caught a glimpse of Sans coming to a stop in a clearing and was probably no more than a handful of strides away. Relieved, he opened his mouth to call out but a small figure collided with his head, wrapping themselves bodily around said appendage to mute Papyrus’s cry. How no one had heard their crash into the underbrush was a surprise but, then again, Papyrus deduced that Sans’s own ambush had created quite the ruckus as well.

The little figure moved enough for Papyrus to see but kept their arm across Papyrus’s mouth to keep him quiet. It was a good thing, too, because Papyrus would have screamed. About what or at who, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the thing trying to capture his brother terrified him and, as the little figure buried their face into his shoulder, complete certainty filled him; there was nothing he could do but make sure the little figure did not slip from where they were currently latched onto. As the black, inky mass that was ensnaring Sans came into view, Papyrus decided that he would have been screaming out of fear.

A child walked out from behind the trees, looking up at Sans. Papyrus couldn’t see their face but the way the creature turned its head towards the child, it was clear that the child was there due to the creature. A giggle left the child and Papyrus shuddered. He froze but his shudder went unnoticed as the creature and child left with Sans in tow.

The little figure attached to him let go and landed on solid feet in the snow. He swallowed down the bitter taste of used magic as he looked down at the little human, sockets burning with unshed tears he was vehemently denying.

“Why did that….thing take my brother?” Papyrus demanded, knowing that the child before him would know. He could see the similarities between the child that had been with the creature and the one before him: same shirt, same shorts, same shoes, same hair, same overall appearance. The child shrank a bit before giving him a shushing gesture, their expression pleading. He frowned, but he nodded, watching the child dutifully write in the snow ‘experiment’. His frown deepened. He asked softly, “Do you know where they went?”

The child nodded.

“Take me there,” Papyrus half ordered, half begged. The child gained an apprehensive look and Papyrus’s hands shot out to grip both of the child’s shoulders. The child was tiny and Papyrus barely put any pressure into his grasp. “Please. I have to protect my brother.”

Determination replaced the apprehension and the child nodded. Stepping out of Papyrus’s touch, they gestured for the skeleton to follow. Papyrus quickly got to his feet and followed after the child slipping quickly through the trees. For a while, their trek was silent beyond the noises of Papyrus’s boots against the snow. But when it seemed nothing was really going to happen, Papyrus figured it was safe to talk, even as he kept his voice low.

“Can you talk?”

Papyrus nearly smacked himself. Out of all the things he wanted to ask, that had not been one of them. But, now that it had left his mouth, he couldn’t help wondering if they couldn’t. After all, they hadn’t said a word yet.

The child shook their head no.

“Do you have a name?”

The child glanced at him. The look clearly spoke of annoyance and Papyrus nearly took the question back but the child was already bending over to write in the snow.

‘Frisk’

‘Quickly.’

‘Yes/No ? only’

The child took off at a slight jog and Papyrus had only a moment to take in the words before he was forced to follow or be left behind.

If he had read the set of words right, Frisk was the human child’s name, they were in a hurry, and he could only ask yes or no questions. He felt rather stupid with that last bit. Of course he would only be allowed to ask questions that had yes or no as the answer. The child clearly had to write in the snow for anything more, which brought another thought to mind.

“Do you know sign language?”

The child gave him a confused look and he deduced that they could not. Odd how they knew how to write but not know how to sign. “Can you read as well?”

This time the look was one he had seen many times. It was flat and clearly spoke ‘no duh’ in a way that made Papyrus feel rightly reprimanded. Frustration flared through him as he glared back at the child. “I apologize for such a question but I know nothing about you and simply knowing how to write doesn’t necessarily mean you know how to read. You don’t know what sign language is and you clearly know more about the situation than I do. In fact, you could be in on this whole situation and leading me right into a trap!”

The stress of the situation was clearly getting to him as the words tumbled out but he didn’t care. His only ally in this was Frisk and he didn’t even know where the child came from, what was going on, and how he was going to get himself and Sans out of a situation he didn’t recognize. Shame washed over the child’s face and they reached out to him. At first he was confused but they grabbed his hand and pulled gently. When he was low enough, they hugged him tight, pressing their face into the fabric on his shoulder. His arms came up on instinct alone and he wrapped the human child in a tight hug, realizing his bones were rattling. He tried to swallow his fear and anxiety and frustration so that he didn’t burden this child with everything that was coming but it was hard. It was hard to suppress everything and to push forward and strive to protect the one soul he cared most for.

It clicked.

That was it, though, wasn’t it? He was there to protect his brother. He needed to treat this like he would as a royal guard, as his job. He didn’t have to suppress his emotions, he just had to set them aside for the moment, strive through, and then deal with them when he got himself and his brother to safety.

And Frisk. If nothing else, the child was not only showing him the way but showing him compassion as well and Papyrus appreciated that far more than he would ever be able to voice. Standing with his arms still around the child, he shifted their weight to his side as they wrapped their legs around him as best they could, expression curious.

“Point and I will go that way.”

Frisk nodded and pointed ahead of them. Papyrus took off at a run, determination thrumming through his bones.

Something other than reality swam before Sans’s eyes. Whether a nightmare or memories long forgotten, he couldn’t pull himself out of it. All he knew was that Papyrus was in danger and needed to be protected. He had to protect his brother.

He had to protect Papyrus.

“Sans! Don’t.”

The words were weak – pathetic, really – but reality snapped into sharp clarity around him. There, sitting before him on the floor, was Papyrus with a hand to a cheek. He could feel his magic all over the room, the majority of it collected in one location.

His soul dropped painfully as he turned. He jerked back, cancelling his magic as quickly as he could as the horrors of what he had done registered. His grip on Alex’s soul vanished and the bones that had been imbedded in the human and the surrounding space shattered and dissipated. He flinched as Alex hit the floor, regretting the rash decision instantly.

He took a step back, hand curling towards his chest. He could still feel Alex’s soul in his grip, could still feel the feedback of his own attack in the human’s body, and for the life of him, he couldn’t recall what had driven him to attack Alex like that. There was nothing there but darkness and, for some reason, that terrified him even more than knowing the truth behind the action. He looked to Papyrus, not knowing what to do. His brother was still watching him, sockets wide with an anticipation Sans couldn’t read. His gaze flickered to his brother’s hand still pressed firmly to a cheek but Sans couldn’t tell if it was out of pain, out of fear, or an unconscious action. He couldn’t tell anything and it was not only making him frustrated, but it was also terrifying. Still, he swallowed that fear and frustration in favor of helping his brother up. He offered his hand to Papyrus, taking a step towards the lankier skeleton.

His brother flinched.

Sans jerked back, pressing his hand against his sternum till it hurt. He yanked at the world, separating himself from his brother with as much force as he could manage.

It was a bad idea. He shot from spot to spot on what was thankfully a straight line but he found himself face first in the snow before he had time to rectify his mistake.

Everything hurt. Every bone he had hurt. Even his soul hurt and Sans couldn’t help but be flabbergasted. What in the world had that been?

Pushing himself up out of the snow, he looked around. He knew where he was. He could still make out the lab’s outline through the trees but there was quite a bit of distance between himself and the building. He sat back on his heels, trying to get his mind to focus.

What had happened?

Well, obviously, he had tried to take a shortcut, to teleport, but it had gone wrong and, quite honestly, had been downright awful. It was nothing like in his dream, in his memories, where it had been simply like stepping from place to the next, like passing through a doorway or portal. No, this was almost like he was ceasing to exist only to exist again in another place, that if he wasn’t sure of his footing, he would cease to exist by either scattering himself across space and time or by planting himself into a tree or wall. The sudden understanding of how dangerous his shortcuts were now made him wish he had tried to use one long before now.

Why was this the first time he had teleported?

The answer, it seemed, was far simpler than he had anticipated.

Because there had been no need.

He had never had the need to utilize his ability. He had been so focused on getting stronger physically that where he would have normally used a shortcut, he had walked. And, to only add to the matter, he only recently felt able to do any sort of magic beyond holding himself together.

He sighed, his body relaxing. He felt like an idiot. Probably was one, too, for leaving in such a manner, but what was done was done. There was nothing he could do about it now.

He pushed himself to his feet, the knees of his shorts damp from sitting in the snow. While he didn’t generate heat like humans did, his magic still ran warm and could melt snow, albeit far slower than a human could. Lacking the necessary nerve ending to properly feel temperature differences, Sans also barely noticed the snow under his bare feet beyond the realization that he was indeed barefoot stepping in snow that wasn’t quite powder anymore. He made a face at the sensation as he wiggled his toes.

“Nope! Nope. That just made it worse,” he voiced, hopping from one foot to the other to shake the snow from between his bones.

His foot swelched into the snow underfoot but he didn’t notice. What he did notice, though, was movement in the opposite direction of the lab. He snapped his head around, pupils locking onto a figure a number of yards away.

His pupils shrank.

A human child was standing opposite the direction to the lab, watching him. At first it just creeped him out. Why in the world was there a child just standing there watching him? Where were their parents? Did they even live near here?

Who were they?

“Are you lost?” Sans called out, taking a step towards them. The child didn’t react but he started to really take in their appearance. Brown hair in a symmetrical cut at the jaw line, stripped shirt, shorts, shoes…

“Frisk?”

The word was out of his mouth before he could even think it. No. There was no way that the child was actually real, that Frisk wasn’t simply a figment of his imagination.

The child turned.

“Frisk!” Sans stumbled briefly before taking off after the kid. “Frisk! Wait!”

Whether it was a hallucination, he was dreaming, or it was really happening, he never seemed to get closer. The moment he thought he was gaining, he would see them farther ahead.

Out of nowhere, they vanished.

He slowed to a stop in a tiny clearing and even that was a stretch. It was more of a stretch of space he could fit 10 of his closest friends in if he wanted to and still have elbow room but it wasn’t much of a clearing. “Frisk?”

A child giggled.

The magic around Sans’s bones turned to ice at the same time it poured from his left socket in a flame. How could he have been so stupid. He knew that giggle, had heard it too many times to not know that giggle. That particular giggle reigned over his nightmares far more than he cared for.

Chara.

He sucked air between his teeth as the shadows around him surged forward. He dodged what he could without shortcutting. He couldn’t bring himself to teleport. He’d gather the magic to do it but each time he nearly tipped the scale, the sensation of his last attempt washed over him and the magic would evaporate. He summoned bones, trying to embed whatever was lashing out at him but that only worked for mere moments. Whatever was going after him seemed able to free itself once pinned and Sans started to feel as if he was up against something that wasn’t properly solid.

His sudden influx of magic use, the horrible experience that had been his shortcutting, and the night terror from earlier was catching up with him far faster than he would have liked, exhaustion slowing his efforts to remain untouched. He did his best to not let it become an issue, the fear of turning to dust with just one hit very potent in his bones at the moment. Even after weeks of knowing that it wasn’t possible for him to dust with one hit any more, that fear was the only think keeping him from growing sloppy.

Didn’t work out too well as he misstepped.

Tendril was the only word that came to mind to describe the black, stringy, inky thing that wrapped around his throat, the back of his skull, and across his teeth before it yanked him forward and up. He gave a muffled cry, pain shooting down his neck at the movement as he tried to fight, tried to pull the tentacle off of his neck, but other tendril shot out. One wrapped around his torso to the point he feared a rib would crack. Two others latched onto his legs as a third wrapped around his left wrist. It yanked his hand away from the tendril, leaving his right hand to only grasp at it to keep himself steady if nothing else.

All of the jerking around stopped not even a minute after it had started and Sans found himself immobilized a few feet off the ground even as he twitched about trying to get free. The tendril wrapped around his skull slipped over his left eye and it was like he had no magic to pull on. He jerked in the tight grasps, panic driving him to try and get free.

A mass approached from the shadows and Sans froze as ice cold dread rushed through his system. His magic started collecting out of instinct but the tendril already tight around his ribs squeezed and he had the sudden sensation of being sapped of magic. It made his head spin.

“WelL dONe, ChiLd,” the mass from the shadows spoke, the voice seeming to ring through Sans’s skull as the splotchy mask of a face turned to something Sans couldn’t see. A giggle from the unseen thing made fear streak down his spine. “lET uS ReTurN.”

He was screwed.

As the mass started taking him back to wherever it had come from, Sans started to calm down. Clearly the thing didn’t want to harm him quite yet, meaning he had the chance to escape once the damn thing stopped draining him of magic.

“hAve YoU FoUnD tHe OtHEr one, yEt?”

Sans tensed at that. Other one what? Did the blasted thing mean Papyrus or something else? He prayed to the stars beyond that the thing was talking about something else.

He was glad that Papyrus was still back at the lab.

Hopefully.

“No. They will come home on their own.”

“mAke SURe tHAT hAPpens. i dO nOt WANT ThE onlY oThER hEALtHY one gETTINg DamAGed. i wOrKeD ToO hard To haVe iT ALl ABrUptlY stoP beCAUSE You cAnnOt KeeP AN EYE On tHEM.”

Sans relaxed marginally. That didn’t sound like they were talking about Papyrus. In fact, it almost sounded like they were talking about another human. Sans tried to look at the child following but the tendrils kept him rather immobilized.

“Of course.”

He mentally groaned. He couldn’t read anything out of how the kid was taking this without seeing their face. It almost sounded like the thing was reprimanding them but how the kid reacted seemed as if it was nothing more than a statement about the weather.

A branch smacked him in the face and he glared at the thing carrying him.

Another branch smacked him in the face.

He groaned. So that’s what this whole trip was going to be, wasn’t it?

A third branch wacked into the side of his skull.

Fan-fricken-tastic.

Sans tracked their progress up till he got turned around and lost. After that, he closed his right socket and simply waited. There was nothing he could do without his magic and somehow the creature holding him could suppress just that. So, while still trapped in the not-slimy-but-certainly-looking-like-slim-and-ink tendrils of whatever the creature was, he had to wait. It turned out to be a nice half nap, once he got over the whole being choked and squeezed to death.

There was a sudden shift in light and Sans opened his unobscured socket to find himself being brought into a structure that was buried beneath a hill. The entrance was made out of thick slabs, the door equally thick. It opened slowly on an automated system but it was silent. There was no telling how large the complex was and Sans had a suspicion it was deceptively massive.

They went down a level and through several hallways before arriving at a massive room filled with an exuberant amount of very illegal experiments and equipment. The place was in disarray, cables both still hanging in there and busted dangling from the ceiling and crowding the floor, stains of unknown origins coloring dingy surfaces, and things everywhere. There were glass cylinders full of some liquid preserving some creature or another all over the place. Some looked to still be alive and the cylinders still active, others not so much alive as preserved for whatever reason. The creature weaved its way through the maze of things that Sans was certain would burn very nicely if he ever got the chance to start a fire.

He wasn’t certain where the thought of fire came from but he wasn’t about to give it up now.

The creature unlatched restrained on what Sans was certain was an examination table not meant for living beings. A tendril wrapped around his right wrist and he was slowly pulled out of the half curled position he had managed to get himself into. He fought it, thus why it took so long, but the creature only moved the tendrils to snake into his joints and force him to move when it was done with his struggling. It was a disgusting feeling, one he vowed to avoid in the future by just moving next time.

The tendril around his skull left and the first thing he did was ask, “So where are we, exactly? Doesn’t seem like the kind of place I’d wanna stay in for long.”

“i Am SuRpRiSED yOu dO NoT rEMEmBER. i HaD inTeNDEd fOr YOuR TImE HeRE to ReMain IntACT In yOuR MiND.”

He jerked against the restrains now tight against his wrists, ankles, and torso, sockets wide as pupils vanished. No, no. No way. There was no fucking way.

An inky tendril curled against his cheek as if to cup it. “IT wOuLD sEEM tHaT RoMAn hAd Gotten TO you suCceSsFuLly AFTEr ALL.” The tendril left and Sans suppressed a shudder. He felt disgusting now and didn’t even understand why. “I had NOt BEEn ceRTAIn He haD mAnAGed To GeT HiS haNDS On a BOttlE oN His wAy OUt.”

“Who’s Roman?” he ground out. The odd way this monster spoke was starting to give him a headache.

He could have done without the distorted laughter in his head, too.

“SacRificINg HimSeLF FOr a noBLe CAuSe. wHY Am i nOT sUrpriSED. in fAct, I AM imPrEsSED he MAnAGeD To lAst LoNg EnOugh To SeE thrOUgH hIs nObLe DeEd.” The mass moved away, rearranging things on some surface. “T. n. rOmAN WAs An assistant of Mine ThAT DeCIdEd He wAs ThROuGh workING wiTH ME. So, he Set tHe PLace on FIrE And FlEd with YoU AND YOUr broThEr. WHeRe is pAPYrUS? HeAlThy And WeLl, I HoPe?”

Sans thrashed against his restraints and the mask like face turned towards him, ever present grin seeming to only grow longer. “Don’t you dare touch my brother, Gaster, or so help me I’ll-“

“OR yOu'lL WhAt, sANs? tAke mE oN?” Gaster laughed again, coming over. Out of the goop near what Sans could only assume was Gaster’s chest, something extended. By the time it touched his face to pat his cheek, it had become a hand pulled free of the mass that was now W. D. Gaster. “you ArE iN no ShAPe To tAKe oN ANyOnE, lIttLE SKeleTon. eSPeCially Not me.” Gaster didn’t so much lean in as stretch his head out like he would a hand till his face was inches from Sans. Sans couldn’t even lean away, skull pressed firmly against the flat surface already. “i cAn tAKe yoU Out wiTh eAsE.”

“You’re lying,” he choked, his soul dropping at the thought even as his right socket suddenly itched.

Gaster laughed again, the face rising up and back in a gesture that mimicked someone throwing their head back.

Sans smacked his head against the hard surface as he jerked back when Gaster’s face was suddenly shoved into his own. “Oh, I Am lyInG, am I? YOUr pareNtS BroUght YOu TO me NOt WAnTING you anyMoRe. i TOoK you iN ANd TAughT yOU ALL YoU kNow. I TauGHt you HOw TO be thE oLDeR brOtheR. I mADe yOu INTO tHe monster THAT YOU ArE now aND I MadE SURE I couLd End yoU iF YOU gOt ToO Out oF hAND.”

Sans didn’t know why he was crying but he was. There were so many emotions rolling within him, he couldn’t even figure out what they were. But there was something there, a feeling in his soul that Gaster was lying. About what and how much, he wasn’t sure, but he certainly hoped for the majority of it to be a lie. This monster couldn’t be responsible for the foundation of his life. He just couldn’t.

But, then, the notes he had seen about him and his brother hadn’t been fabricated.

The chuckle was involuntary. The cackling just seemed like the next logical progression.

Sans leaned heavily on his restraints as his ribs hurt from laughing so hard. As his laughing subsided, he straightened up, spurts of giggles escaping him as his cheeks were streaked with tears.

“Aw man,” Sans spluttered between another splattering of giggles. “And I thought I had been crazy.” The grin that stretched across his face seemed to threaten to break his skull. “It’s a good thing I don’t remember what you taught me, then, eh, G?”

The grin on the mask like face diminished slightly as the face receded. “wHAT do yOU mEAn?”

“I don’t know how much you’ve been tracking of my life, Gooplord, but I Fell Down. Fell Down so hard that I got Dissociative Acute Amnesia. It was so acute that I didn’t remember anything from before the twisted nightmare that had been my dream. You, weren’t even in it. No human was, and certainly no monsters like you.” Sans grinned some more. “In fact, you could say I’m a new skeleton. Only reason I know who you are is because of some of your old research notes.”

Gaster pulled back completely, the grin on the mask not completely gone but certainly far smaller than it had been. Sans felt rather proud that he had knocked the creature down a few pegs, even if he was lying through his teeth on part of that. His memories weren’t fully back but he remembered reading those notes prior to his coma.

Gaster didn’t need to know that.

“yOu sEeM ProUD of thaT FAct.”

“Eh, I take what I can get.”

Gaster chuckled and Sans tried not to grit his teeth against the sound. “Oh, coME now, SANs. dOn'T tELl mE yoU'VE beCOME laZy?”

“Far from it, from what I’ve been told as of late,” Sans countered, not at all comfortable as to why Gaster was suddenly amused. He had been annoyed earlier, Sans was sure. He had gotten a strike against his captor. “But my brother would say I’m a lazy bag of bones any day.”

“ThEN I WiLl jUst hAVe tO aSK him, WON't I?”
Dread was like ice on his bones. “Like you’ll ever have the chance,” Sans bluffed, praying to whatever would listen that this wasn’t going where he thought it was going.

“ i'm sUre I'LL gEt The cHancE FaR sooNEr THan YOu thiNk.” Gaster’s attention went beyond the edge of the surface Sans was strapped to. “plAce THem In THeir CAPSule. I'Ll TAkE tHE bRoTher.”

“NO!” Sans struggled against his bonds but it did little more than cause the bonds to rub painfully against his bones.

A second examination table of sorts was brought into his line of sight, soon followed by Papyrus being led by several tendrils. Sans stared. It was strange. Papyrus looked composed, determined even, but there was a slight tremor in Papyrus’s fists and his sockets were a bit too wide. As brave as Papyrus was, Sans knew he was just as scared. Gaster moved over to the lanker skeleton and strapped him in as Sans tried to get free. “Papyrus! Gaster, so help me, if you do anything to harm him– ”

“ScREam yOurSELF hoArsE IF you WiSh, Sans. nO OnE cAN hEar yoU aNd it iS ALl ratHeR aMuSiNG To me.”

Gaster moved away from Papyrus. Sans jerked against his bonds again, pupils trained on his brother. “Papyrus. Pap. Look at me.” He gained a wide socket gaze void of emotion. It chilled Sans down to the bone. “Everything’s going to be ok. We’ll be ok.”

Iridescent blue tears welded up in Papyrus’s sockets the same blue as Papyrus’s Patient soul. Sans felt his own soul clench in his chest at seeing them again but he watched as those tears stayed in those sockets. What had Gaster done to get Papyrus so willing to do as he was told? Why wasn’t Papyrus fighting back? Crying? Screaming? Anything!

“YOu shOuLDn't mAkE pRomiSeS you caN't keeP, Sans,” Gaster chastised as those iridescent tears were blinked away. Sans glared at Gaster only to have his soul drop. Gaster had a human Bravery soul in a canister between two tendrils. “AfTEr alL, YOU ArE faR too UNstabLE FoR me To eXpERiMeNt ON. yOuR BrOtHeR tUrned Out far MORe stable iN that EFFeCT.” Gaster turned his attention briefly to Papyrus. “NOw IT iS tImE tO SEE HOW fAr we can puSh the Limits OF SuBjeCt oNE's FOrM.” Gaster’s grin turned psychotic as he focused on Sans. “shaLl wE See how much mAgIc hE cAN HOlD BefORE hE BeCoMes BrITtle LIkE You, SUbjECT Two?”

Sans jerked against his bonds, panic suddenly overriding anything that would have kept him safe. “You can’t! Papyrus has already gone through a trait shift. You force him to do another and you’ll kill him!”

He wasn’t where this information was coming from or how he knew it was accurate, but the pleased look on Gaster’s face only confirmed what he knew: Gaster already knew this.

“IT WOulD sEEm tHAT YOU HaVeN't Lost alL oF THe InfoRMATION I HAVe GiVEN YOu oVer the YeArs. You aRe CoRrECT. if i FOrcE PaPYrUs to TAkE On bRAvErY, thEN hE Will die. But, If HE TAkeS IT ON HiMSeLf, well,” Gaster’s grin only grew, “THAT IS SimPlY a bONuS To whAt i wiLL BE DoINg tO Him.”

Sans, for all his intelligence, was suddenly at a loss. “I don’t understand,” he finally voiced, frowning. He knew his brother was staring at him, could feel the gaze on his skull, but he couldn’t pull his attention away from the monster before him. “If you are not trying to get Papyrus’s trait to shift, then why use Bravery magic?”

Gaster chuckled and Sans flinched from the noise. “SImPlY Put, braveRY IS OranGE mAgic hIGhlY COnCEnTrAtEd. WheRE yOu anD Subject oNe Share bLue MagIc duE to the Two blUe trAItS YoU bOtH house, ORAnGE MAgIc AnD Blue MaGic aRe tHe mOst InTeREsTinG Of cOnFlIcTinG mAgICs ThaT ResOnATe tOgether. IF tHe ADDiTIoN oF foreiGn ORaNge MaGic DoEsN't KiLL sUBJeCt ONe, then THIs will hAVe beEN a SUCCeSS. If It Does, ThEn I HavE yoU TO TEST On AS WElL, DESpiTe YOUR fRAgiLe staTE. twO SouLS THAt havE goNE throUgh a trait SHIfT bEinG IntROduceD tO New MagiC.” Sans shuddered as a sound rolled through his skull that he refused to name. “ThE resUlTS shouLD Be faScINAtIng. WIlL yOU take on bravery in anotheR tRAIt SHIFt? OR wILL you shifT INTO PeRSeverAnce oR sOMEtHIng eLsE? WiLL The OrAnGE mAGIC simPLy TeaR yOu APaRT dEpENdInG On youR TRAit? The amOuNT Of posSIBiliTiEs is EndlesS!”’

Sans glanced at Papyrus as Gaster’s attention moved elsewhere. Papyrus was watching him, expression set into something he had yet to see on his brother post-coma. Sans forced himself to relax and nodded. He hoped it translated to what he had intended: they would work together to get out of this alive.

The nod he received in return was short, brisk, and seemed to acknowledge and agree with his unspoken statement. Even as their focus was returned to Gaster as the thing turned to face them once more, Sans couldn’t help but worry that Papyrus was going to do this on his own, though. Despite everything, Papyrus was a Royal Guard here and, while there wasn’t much in the way of crime, they were still trained to handle situations that civilians were not and Sans – for all intents and purposes – was still a civilian.

He hoped that whatever training Papyrus had gone through had been enough to keep them both alive and persevering through these hard times.

Sans screamed himself hoarse over the next few hours. While Gaster took to working on Papyrus first, even Papyrus’s strong will could not keep the lankier skeleton from screaming in agony as Gaster started injecting him with Bravery. Phantom memories of going through a similar process with a concoction that burned through his system and made it feel like his bones would melt only made him scream more.

He had fought and struggled, unable to do anything as his younger brother was tortured for some sicko’s pleasure leaving his bones chaffed and tender. The helplessness of living through resets he could not alter returned with a vengeance and by the time Gaster threw them into a small, dark room with no windows, he was equally as exhausted as Papyrus was.

Each movement only jostled injuries he had inflicted on himself. He dragged himself over to Papyrus, careful fingers skirting over puncture marks and cracks till he was able to smooth his hand over Papyrus’s skull. He was already unconscious, which was both reassuring and worrisome but Sans didn’t dare wake his brother. Shifting so that he could rest Papyrus’s head on his lap, he carefully pulled his soul from his chest to illuminate the space.

It was extremely difficult to even coax his soul out in the first place. His entire being was aware that this was not a safe place to be doing such things but Sans needed to see and he feared summoning any actual magic would do more harm than good. The inverted heart eventually formed just outside his ribcage and showed that even his ribs had not made it through the day without being rubbed raw by his thrashing. He flinched away from dark, wet streak on his shirt, knowing all too well what color it would be once they were brought into proper lighting again.

For whatever reason, he bled like a human did. Whether or not he already knew that was a moot point. The evidence was seeping into his shirt and dripping down his arms. A glance towards Papyrus’s injuries gave the same result. Though there wasn’t much in the way of “blood” from them, there was still enough of the substance escaping to color Papyrus’s bones in the dark color illuminated by Sans’s soul.

Before he used up all he had left in the way of magical energy, he took a look around the barren room. Their injuries mattered little when they were given nothing to tend to them with. The room was nothing more than a space with no windows. The door was sealed so well that not even a sliver of light escaped from where the door was supposed to be. The low light of his soul did nothing in the way of actually outlining the door from the wall it was situated within.

With a sigh, he let his soul disappear, feeling its weight return to the center of his being. There was no sign they were being watched, there was no way to know how the door even worked, and Sans was far too tired to try and figure out how to get them out. So, he situated himself around Papyrus and settled in for the most uncomfortable sleep of his life.

Morning seemed to arrive too early as the door was yanked open and tendrils yanked them both out of the room.

There was no distinction between hours, minutes, or days, and Gaster seemed able to work without food or rest, tossing Sans and Papyrus in what Sans had come to calling The Room at arbitrary times. The day that followed their first night had been painful. The bonds wrapped around raw bone making Sans hiss and twitch. It kept him from acting out except in moments that seemed so dire. The second time they were tossed into The Room, Sans had the energy to actually try and get them out.

He couldn’t remember if he had been successful or not.

What could have been days or hours of this nonsense had led to Sans feeling beyond exhausted. It wasn’t till what he deemed their seventh day that he realized they weren’t being fed. It explained why Papyrus was unconscious more often than not in the last few experiments, let alone when they were in The Room. Sans wished he could talk to Papyrus, give the other some form of comfort while they were both awake but even Sans was unconscious by the time they were locked, wrists, ankles, and torso constantly raw from the bindings on his table with no food to replenish his strength or magic.

He still didn’t understand why Gaster had him strapped to a table and not simply left in the dark room to brood while Papyrus was experimented on. After all, Sans had given up trying to figure out a way to free them both. Neither of them ever got enough of a break to regain their strength.

From time to time, the human Sans had mistaken for Frisk and, later, Chara, would come in at seemingly random moments. Sometimes they would help, sometimes they would watch. However, this time seemed different. When the child entered, they were pulling along a tv, wires dragging on the floor to someplace out of sight. Gaster stopped in the middle of some experiment on Papyrus. Whatever this one was, it seemed relatively painless. Papyrus had slept through its entirety, only to stir at Gaster’s rousing.

“AW. good. seT iT UP tHeRe.”

Sans frowned, noting how Papyrus just stared at the ceiling. “What’s all this, G?” he inquired, watching as tendrils reached out and messed with something out of sight.

“A giFT, Of sorTS. I fELT iT ImpoRTAnt tO knOcK DoWN YoUR HoPe A feW MORE pEGS So tHaT YOu doN't gEt aNY IdeAs.”

Sans wasn’t sure how sane Gaster was any more if he was presuming correctly what the monster was talking about. “What kind of ideas?”

“oh, AnY pErtaINiNg To tHe CHanCE oF bEing RESCUEd OR BEinG AblE tO esCApE ON Your oWn. HONestlY, YOu could taKE YoUR PICk. iT WIll be RaTheR oBvIOus HERE iN A momenT.”

His soul dropped a bit at that as he forced out a chuckle. Damn, he hadn’t realized he had been holding out a bit of hope for that. “Heh, didn’t know you had a funny bone, G. That almost sounded real.”

There was no reaction to his words and Sans wasn’t overly surprised.

“hmm. WELL, I gUESs yOU CAN TelL me HoW FUNnY the JOke iS WheN yOU SEE thE punChlInE. The feeD shOUld Be in pLacE AnD LIVE.” The tv clicked on, buzzing as static filled the screen briefly. Sans spared his brother a glance as they waited for the image to clear, grateful to see Papyrus was awake and watching, even if it looked like he was about ready to pass out again. He hoped with all his being that Gaster was at least feeding Papyrus through all this. The image cleared, revealing a familiar room with a familiar figure in the bed. “AW. goOd. we hapPEn to Be EaRLy.”

“Early for what?” he asked, gaze locked on the redhead lying in the bed. The only thing that kept him from thinking the other was dead was the slight rise and fall of the blanket over Alex’s chest.

There was movement at the edge of the screen and Sans realized he was viewing the room from the nightstand. It was an awkward angle but it gave him clear view of Alex and anyone that moved to be beside the human. Toriel was the first to enter the feed, though her attention wasn’t on Alex.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said to someone off screen. There was more movement as Sans took in Alphys, Undyne, and Asgore all gathering closer, though the way things were situated, Asgore was just a guess. He didn’t know anyone else with such a large shadow.

There was movement from the bed and Alex’s eyes opened. The gaze was unfocused and exhausted but the expression changed quickly as Alex turned his gaze to those around him. Sans felt a small smile creep onto his face as Alex squinted at them. Someone needed to hand him his glasses. “What....how long have I been out?”

Alphys was the one to pass Alex his glasses as the human sat up, most of his head leaving frame only to leave his scruffy jaw in sight.

“Three days,” Toriel supplied, giving Sans a proper count of days. It would seem Gaster had no issue messing with their internal clocks.

“Did Papyrus find Sans?”

Sans perked up at that, though Gaster’s slight shifting at the edge of his vision suddenly had him concerned for his partner’s health.

Toriel frowned, asking, “Who are Papyrus and Sans?”

With how often his magic felt like ice on his bones, one would think he would have gotten used to the sensation, but it send a chill down his spine and made him flinch from his raw bones being jostled against the straps that had caused the injuries in the first place.

He wished he could see Alex’s face. Instead, all he saw was Alex hunched torso, his arms hanging loosely to pool in his lap, jaw line static in frame. There was a beat, something that Sans couldn’t read even as he noticed both Undyne and who he assumed was Asgore tensed at the edge of the screen. A soft smile curled Alex’s lips but without seeing the rest of the human’s face, Sans couldn’t read it. “Aw. Sorry. Guess my dream is sticking with me far more than I would have liked.”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” Toriel encouraged, reaching over and patting Alex’s shoulder. The human didn’t flinch. Sans wondered if that was an act. “You get some more rest and I’ll bring you dinner. Do stay in bed. Your injuries won’t heal if you strain yourself.”

Alex laid back, nodding as everyone shuffled out. Those green eyes flickered over to the nightstand and Sans felt as if Alex was looking right at him for the briefest of moments before the human moved and did something above the camera. “Never seen this kind of flower before. Wonder where they got it from.”

The feed was cut, or stopped, and the child pulled the tv away as Gaster turned to the brothers, the expression on the mask like face pleased. Sans glared at it.

“ComE now, SANs,” Gaster practically purred, a tendril reaching over and curling against his cheek to cup it. He turned his head away even as the tendril followed, keeping contact. “tHeRE IS No NEed FOR Such aN EXPRessION. I wIlL makE SUrE yOU liVe A loNG, fruiTfUl LIFE, evEn If YOur friEndS No LONgER RemEmbEr YOU.”

“You have a hand in their lack of memory,” he accused, not relenting up on his glare even as exhaustion made it hard. “And Alex seeming to remember us upon waking up makes you uncomfortable.” The sharp grin was easy. “Worried there might be a nick in your plan, there, G?”

Gaster bristled at that, though he bubbled more than bristled in Sans’s opinion. Gaster was suddenly upon him, the black mass that was Gaster pressing into Sans making the stout skeleton squirm against his bonds.

“do NOt tEst mE, SUbjeCt two. I wilL glAdly ShifT FrOM expERImeNTiNG On SUbJecT oNe to SeE JUSt hoW MUCh MaGIc yOU Can ExPEnD BEForE you DUST yOURselF WitH no mOre maGIc tO REMAin WHolE.” Papyrus thrashed weakly against his own bonds. Sans could hear the commotion but whatever Papyrus had tried to shout was garbled. “i CAn mAKe it So that SUBJect OnE wOuLD bE UnABlE To Be A FUNCtIoNING mEMbER Of SOcieTy aGaiN, lEt AlOnE Let HIm LivE. mAYBE I'lL See HOw FaR i can PUsh HiM with DetermInatIon, aS i HAd OncE wIth YOU.”

“Don’t you dare,” Sans growled.

Gaster chuckled. “aS iF ThERe iS anyThING You CAN do SHOuLD i CHoose tO DO so.” The mass moved away and Sans squinted against the sharp light of the lab space. He quickly looked over to Papyrus to see the other glaring at Gaster, his mouth covered by a thick tendril. Gaster moved towards Papyrus, the tendril keeping Papyrus from speaking stroking the skeleton’s cheek. “dO YOU knoW HOW EnTERTAInING it Is tO waTch yOU WhIttle aWaY IntO NOThing?” He looked to Sans, the mask almost on its side as it faced him. “you CERtaiNlY hAVE LASTeD FAR LONgEr than I hAD antIciPATeD WiTHOUt FOOd Or magIc.” He stepped away, looking to Papyrus as he moved. “MAybE i WILL FEEd the botH Of YOu sOon to KeeP You gOing.” Sans jerked against his bonds when that mask like face turned back to him, grinning far larger than he cared to notice, pissed. “Or NOt.”

The round of experiments started up again and Sans lost track of time; Sans was not left out of the torture which probably didn’t help. Where his brother was subjected to trait magic infusions, Sans was forced to use magic in ways that were not normal, let alone safe for his magic level. At least Gaster had followed through with his words and started to feed them, if what they were given could even be considered food anymore. The food was in such horrible state that Sans’s body rejected it as soon as he had consumed it no matter how much hunger gnawed at his soul. He got so little from the food that it only kept him from Falling Down.

Somehow, thankfully, Papyrus was able to eat the food without the severe consequences Sans was subjected to. The longer they went with food, the stronger Papyrus became and he was able to stay awake longer than Sans. Sans stopped trying to eat after four consecutive meals where he couldn’t even get a bite down without his body rejecting it instantly.

If only Sans could just keep some of it down, then maybe they could get out together.

After what could only be perceived as a week later, Sans hit the floor hard as he was tossed into their holding cell of a room. Papyrus was at his side before the door even closed but even as they both had clearly heard the crack, the door slammed shut, swallowing them in darkness.

He hissed between clenched teeth as pain laced up into his shoulder and down into his hand. Even without looking, he knew his humerus was broken and it sent his magic in a frenzy as it tried to scrape together any remaining magic to keep him from losing his arm.

Papyrus’s hands were careful but sure, pulling him upright and Sans’s sockets fluttered open to discover that the space was illuminated by the orange magic laced with blue magic licking at Papyrus’s hands. Sans didn’t dare look down at his arm. He was sure that he would faint if he saw the damage.

Papyrus’s expression was stoic as he wrapped a hand gingerly around Sans’s break. Sans shoved his other hand into his mouth, stifling the scream that had nearly escaped him. The orange and blue magic suddenly flared green and the injury flared before the magic turned orange and he had the strangest sensation that spread from where Papyrus’s hand gripped his humerus. He turned wide eyed sockets to the point of contact, watching as waves of orange magic entered him. Despite the change in color, his entire being hummed with pleasure at the feel of Papyrus’s magic washing over him. But it wasn’t that simple. Papyrus wasn’t just wrapping him in magic, he was being given Papyrus’s magic. Suddenly all his exhaustion vanished and he felt far more awake than he had in who knew how many days.

The magic spluttered out, casting them into darkness, but Papyrus had yet to move and Sans looked where his brother should be. “Papyrus,” he whispered, wary to utter the words much louder in case someone was listening. “What...”

“I can transfer magic without any ill effects. I did it after the first time you were unable to keep the food down by accident,” Papyrus responded, his voice equally soft. “I’ve been practicing while you’ve been asleep ever since.”

Sans reached forward blindly. He found his brother’s arms and held on tight. “Papyrus. You shouldn’t-you need to keep that magic for yourself. At least with me Gaster won’t know any difference.”

There was a pause and the way things shifted under his touch, Sans knew Papyrus had moved but didn’t know how. Papyrus urged, “I can retain the food and the trait infusions is simply giving me more magic that I care to have. At least this way Gaster can’t kill you simply by draining you completely of magic.”

Sans’s soul went out to his brother. So that statement had bothered Papyrus as others had Sans. He gave his brother’s arms an encouraging squeeze. “We’ll get out of this, Pap,” he promised. “Even if no one is coming for us, we’ll get ourselves out. I promise.”

Papyrus chuckled and the sound made Sans’s soul hurt. When had his brother become so broken? “Shouldn’t it be me that is reassuring you? After all, I came to rescue you.”

Sans huffed a laugh, tears stinging the back of his sockets. “Didn’t know the Great Papyrus was lousy at anything. Guess I was wrong.”

The laugh that escaped Papyrus was a choked by a sob. “Yeah,” came the strangled reply. “The Great Papyrus is lousy at rescues, it would seem.”

Sans reached blindly for Papyrus’s face. He found Papyrus’s shoulder, then his neck, before he found the side of Papyrus’s skull. It was easy to cup the other side from there. He gently pulled Papyrus’s head close, pressing their foreheads haphazardly together in the dark. At least he managed to keep them from banging their heads together. “Hey, don’t talk like that,” he countered. “If you weren’t here, I’d already be dead. If nothing else, you’ve rescued me from the brute force that is Gaster’s attention.”

This time the laugh was free of any sob and Papyrus wrapped a hand around the back of Sans’s skull. “I’m glad I was able to do something after all this.”

The lock on the door clicked and Sans smiled bright. “No matter how small,” the light from the hallway beyond hurt but it gave his full view of the orange tears tracking down Papyrus’s face, “you saved me by just being my brother.” Several tendrils shot into the room, ensnaring the both of them. “Don’t forget that.”

Papyrus beamed at him. “Never.”

They were yanked out of the room and through a maze of halls till they were slammed into their respective tables, bound in place. Sans was surprised to find that they were both upright, though. He bristled, suddenly on edge. His gaze settled on the tv. What was going on?

The screen showed static, the sound filling the space till the video feed flickered and cleared, though the motion was rather nauseating. The camera was shifted about and Sans realized the copper brown color at the bottom edge of the screen was from a clay pot. The angle and what he could see clearly spoke of said pot being carried by whoever was walking with Alex. Alex looked drawn, tired, and in a bit of pain. Guilt made Sans recoil. He must have done more damage than he had thought.

He glanced around. Gaster must be somewhere behind them because he couldn’t see the mass of goop but Papyrus was within sight. Sans noticed the frown on Papyrus’s face as the other continued to watch the screen and Sans turned his own attention back to the screen. There was yet to be any talking so Sans wasn’t sure what Papyrus was trying to figure out. Sans mildly wondered where Alex was walking and with who.

Alex came to a stop, staring at something. When the person carrying the potted camera realized he was no longer walking with them, the person stopped and turned, looking back and giving the brothers a clear view of Alex standing in the middle of the walkway staring at what Sans realized was his lab. Caution tape had been crossed over the closed door, a hazard note taped to the center of the door and, if Sans was reading Alex’s profile right, Alex hadn’t forgotten about them.

“Alex?”

It was Toriel carrying the pot and Alex looked to her, his gaze above the potted camera. He offered her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry.” He looked back at the door. “Couldn’t help but think how much of a shame it is that such a volatile accident had happened in this particular lab. I happened to like this one.” He started to approach Toriel. “Feels like I lost a partner, ya know?”

“I’m sorry,” Toriel apologized even as Sans’s soul sang. Alex was faking all of this. He would be looking for them. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that sounded too much like Gaster accusing him of false hope. “I don’t understand.”

Alex’s smile was tired, sad. “That’s alright, Tori. May have something to do with that weird dream I had a few days ago. I think it’s bleeding into my other dreams and making me think a bit too much in theoretic and philosophical areas of life.”

“Will talking help?” Toriel offered.

Alex shrugged as they started walking again. “Probably not but I’ll get about to finding someone to chat with. Thank you, though, Tori.”

“Any time, Alex.”

The feed ended as Gaster came oozing into view from between the brothers. Sans flexed his hands, his raw bones not quite as tender thanks to the magic Papyrus had given him. He glowered, doing his best to suppress any hint of what he was hoping he had seen. “Yeah, yeah, no one’s coming for us. You’ve already made that very clear, what, a week ago? Come on, G. What else are you gaining from showing this to us?”

Sans flinched from the chuckle that rang sharply in his skull. “dO You knOW THe SIgNiFicanCe OF THat CameRa, SuBjECT twO?”

Sans grew uneasy as he shook his skull no. “Am I suppose to?”

Gaster turned his attention to Papyrus. “subJecT oNE?”

Sans looked at his brother, confused. Papyrus’s expression was closed off but Sans suddenly had the sinking feeling he had missed something.

Papyrus’s words only confirmed this.

“You have eyes everywhere.”

“VErY gOod, SuBJECT one. AND DO you kNOw whAt tHaT meAns fOR YOu AND sUbJeCT TWO?”

Papyrus closed his sockets briefly and Sans felt like screaming as Papyrus looked Gaster in the eye. “It means that you know that I can transfer magic and that Sans and I are going to do our best to escape.”

“exACtLy.” Sans stared at Papyrus in disbelief. Why did he spill it? They didn’t actually know if Gaster knew! Why would he- “I am rather IMpREsseD, SUbject ONE. i expEcTeD thaT dECiSIoN TO Be So mUCh HardeR FoR yOU TO mAKe.”

“What decision?” Sans croaked, his gaze not leaving Papyrus.

“gO AheAD, subjEct ONE. telL HIm.”

Papyrus didn’t meet his gaze as he stated, “Should I have lied, I would have watched you suffer a torturing and then separated. Telling the truth means that I take half of your torturing.”

Sans’s gaze snapped to Gaster. “What about the separating?” he demanded. “He didn’t say anything about the separating.”

Gaster laughed. “as if I WoULD aLloW YOU TWo to be In THE samE roOm For exTeNdeD PeRiodS oF tiME kNowInG THaT SUbJect one hAS FinallY dIsCOVEreD hOW tO TRANsfEr MAgic. i haVe No NeED tO Risk YOu TWo EScaPING.” The grin sent his way sent a shudder of fear down Sans’s spine. “i cAn't HAVe you teaChiNg sUbJECt ONe Any of YOuR TrIcks, caN i?”

Sans gave a barked laugh even as a sense of betrayal tangled itself inside his soul. “Oh please. As if any trick I know Pap hasn’t already figured out.” He gave Gaster a vicious grin. “You just want to make it harder for us to get out.”

Gaster did the equivalent of a shrug as tendrils started to weave their way between Sans’s bones. He shuddered in disgust. Hadn’t he already vowed to avoid such situations? “pErHAps.” There was a sickening snap and Sans screamed. Gaster’s face hovered over his as Sans panted against the pain racing up his leg. He tried not to think about the tendrils weaving their way among his ribs. “oR PERhApS i Am USinG it aS AN EXcusE TO SEE HoW wEll you HEal wiThOUT SUBJeCT one TO ComE to your AiD.”

There were several snaps and cracks and Sans screamed himself hoarse as his entire chest erupted in pain.
Alex opened his eyes, exhausted. He wasn’t sleeping well and, honestly, he wasn’t trying to. He scratched at his scruff slowly turning into a beard as he pushed himself upright. The yellow flower was back on his nightstand and he had the growing suspicion that it hadn’t been placed there by Toriel or any of the others. He ran his hand over the base of the flower, fingers brushing over what he was assuming was a camera tucked close into the soil and stem. He couldn’t see it, didn’t dare try and pull the object free. Instead, he dragged his fingers up the stem to the large yellow petals. He wondered if the quaking was from his doing, his imagination, or from the plant itself.

“Time to wake up, little buddy,” he spoke, even if he was only speaking to himself. He rubbed at a petal affectionately. It grounded him, for whatever reason. “Got a lot of work ahead of us.”

He clambered out of bed and went about his morning routine. By the time he focused on the flower again, it had perked up from its hunched state. He picked the potted plant up and tucked it under his arm. “Think Toriel would bring you to me again if I left you behind?”

There was no response, not that he ever expected one. Toriel seemed to be rather adamant that the plant stayed with him. Alex had tried questioning it but he got more answers out of the flower than her and the flower didn’t talk. Ten days without the brothers was driving him nuts. Thankfully, his personal lab could not be entered by anyone but him, now. As soon as he had been able to, he had redone the lock program, erasing any other input codes.

Except Sans’s.

Even with the risk of someone else finding Sans’s code, Sans’s lab had yet to be breached. There was still caution and hazard tape all over that set of doors and Alex knew it was because no one could get in. Otherwise it would have been cleared out by now and changed over. This way he was certain no one could get into his as well.

He stepped into the lab far enough to close the door. Once the door was sealed, he placed the flower down on a table next to the door. He clipped the pot to the table – most likely out of paranoia – like he did most days now and started making his way through the maze of rolling whiteboards all covered in notes and such of what had been on the far wall before the brothers had vanished. He made sure to keep all the notes that had any of Sans’s script on them on the back sides so that the camera the flower held wouldn’t see them; so that whoever was watching believed he had forgotten Sans too. He had even gone through and meticulously duplicated notes so that he had enough to fake it for a while.

Beyond the whiteboard maze was his true project. It wasn’t heavily displayed seeing as he didn’t have much to go on, but it was very clear on what he was trying to do.

A map was pinned to the wall that had once been covered in notes. It wasn’t overly large but it was a map of the surrounding area. Shortly after he had woken up, he had gone on a wild goose chase and ended up extremely lucky. The map was marked with the pockets of residual magic he had come across and recognized as Sans’s magic. He wasn’t sure how or why they had remained even after four days, but they had. The only downside was that it was all a dead end. At the last spot – some tiny clearing in among the trees – his trail ran dry and he was forced to figure something else out. Beneath the most current map of the grounds around the Lab and Snowdin itself was a desk laden in mounds of archived topography maps. He was looking for discrepancies, someplace that someone would think no one else would know about and he had yet to come across anything.

Along with the maps were notes upon notes of speculations on how everyone gained acute amnesia and how to break it. He wasn’t having much luck on the latter, but his lead theory had something to do with the yellow flower sitting next to the door. He had it circled on the page, even. He just didn’t know the how quite yet.

Beyond that and pretending to work on the projects he was supposed to be focusing on, he wasn’t doing much. He rubbed at his face, knocking his glasses askew as he did so. He had gone back 30 years and still nothing stood out in the direction he needed. He didn’t feel up to battling with maps today so he picked up the stack of notes he had set aside to put up when he returned and walked back to the maze. He started on the ones in front of the flower, pinning things here and there with magnets, taking his time to consider what was where, jot down some made up notes every so often.

It didn’t take long for the few pages he wanted to post to get up and things to look messed with. He reached back to touch the plant, rubbing a petal affectionately. “I’ll be back, buddy. I need a smoke break and see if I can’t scour up some new resources.”

He left his lab and crossed through the halls feeling restless under the stress of finding the brothers. Sidestepping a small group passing by, he found his back against Papyrus’s door and slipped in as the group passed without paying him any mind.

He flicked the light on when the door clicked shut behind him. The bed was still a wreck from when Papyrus no doubt flung himself out of it on that morning, worry for his brother driving his actions. He leaned back against the closed door, fighting the crushing sensation settling over him.

They were his family. If he had gone missing, they would be doing this for him.

The feeling didn’t go away but he was able to step into the room.

Papyrus didn’t always live in the labs. The brothers had a cottage on the edge of Snowdin proper, some little subtown that was on one of the main roads into Waterfall. He had visited it a few times but the instances were so short and fleeting that he didn’t really remember it well.

He paused as a picture caught his eye and he smiled softly, reaching out to pick it up.

The brothers were standing in front of their local library famous for its misspelled sign but the angle was enough to also catch the tail end of the one diner in the small subtown’s sign: Grillby’s. The brothers were grinning, arms wrapped around each other in a brotherly embrace, happy as can be. There were a few other folks in the photo, people Alex didn’t know or had briefly met but lacked names for, and they were all happy, all smiling for the camera.

While Papyrus didn’t always live in the labs, he had been told that Papyrus had always had a room due to being part of the Royal Guard and Sans working in the labs. Something about allowing the brothers to remain close even as they both worked far too long for it to be safe to head back to their little cottage. Papyrus had mentioned once that he had felt far too lonely in their house when Sans worked obscene hours at the lab and had been grateful when Asgore had offered him living quarters near Sans’s own.

He put the photo back down.

Due to Sans’s coma, Papyrus had been living exclusively in the labs, working as security for the building and surrounding areas so Papyrus’s room was far more lived in than it probably would have been under normal circumstances.

He walked the circumference of the room slowly, partially taking in what was there and doing his best not to drown in the sorrow eating away at his soul. He misjudged the distance between himself and a bookcase and his elbow caught the spine of a book sticking out. A good number of books from the shelve thudded to the floor. Flinching, he knelt and started gathering books.

A few were pristine, a mark of how well Papyrus took care of his things, but a few looked worn and were far older than the others. He chuckled to himself as he picked up an old picture book, the same book he had no doubt clipped. The cover was worn and the spine looked fragile and yet the book shone proudly of its love and use. Sans had mentioned once of a book he used to read to his brother when they had been younger, of how Papyrus still had it and would still read it, sometimes even out loud to himself. Alex stacked the books already in his arm near his knee before he carefully let the book fall open.

His soft, fond smile fell away. Staring up at him was a page he had glanced a few times when he was checking in on Papyrus back when the lanky skeleton had stayed at his comatose brother’s side. Had he thought that the old book would bring his brother back or simply give him a sort of comfort while Sans was unconscious?

He carefully closed the book and picked up the stack only to pause again.

There was something tucked against the back of the shelf.

Confused, Alex put the stack back down and reached for the dark object hidden behind the wall of books.

His fingers wrapped around a rather familiar material and, as he pulled it out, he found himself holding onto the strap of a camera case; a very dusty, very familiar camera case at that. Resting the bag on his lap, he unzipped the case and found within the very video camera he had been expecting to see. Astonished that the thing had been buried, he pulled it out and pressed the eject button. There wasn’t a tape inside but that didn’t mean much. Looking up, he reached behind what books remained and found a box. The lid had just as much dust on it as the video camera case and his touching left very clear marks as he pulled the lid free. Inside were a number of tapes but only one was labeled. He popped the labeled tape into the video camera, opened the preview screen, and pressed play.

At first there was no reaction as the camera came to life. Then, there was static before it focused non-too kindly on some angle. There wasn’t any audio but Alex didn’t care about that. He pressed the fast forward button and watched, looking for something specific.

He jumped when the part came up, the video pausing as his finger smashed the pause button. There, on the screen, were Sans and Toriel. Giddy glee filled him as he quickly pressed the rewind button before shoving the preview screen shut and stuffing the camera still rewinding back into the bag. He carefully replaced the box of tapes back where he had found it before he returned all the books to the shelf. Scrambling to his feet, bag in hand, he quickly left Papyrus’s room and made sure the door closed completely behind him before he started his search for Toriel.

It seemed that fate was on his side because no sooner had he rounded the corner did he run into her.

“Oh, Alex!” she exclaimed, paws outstretched to catch him as he stumbled. “Are you alright, my child?”

“I’m fine, Toriel,” he offered with a soft smile. She was potless, which was a bonus for him. “I was actually just looking for you.”

She perked up at that. “You were?” Her gaze moved to the bag in his hand. “What is that, my child?”

Alex found himself grinning. “The reason I was looking for you.” He glanced about, piecing together where they were and where what he needed was at. He focused on her as he asked, “Do you mind following me for a short while? I have to show this in a specific room.”

Her concern was clear on her face but she followed him nonetheless as he hurried back the way he had come only to bypass the corner he had rounded and continued on to the stairs. He paused regularly to let her catch up but his excitement of finally having a chance to getting someone on his side, someone to finally see through the bullshit they had been fed, was making him equal parts impatient and giddy.

Down two floors and through secluded hallways, it wasn’t till they were nearly at their destination that Toriel voiced her concern. “My child, what could you have to show me that requires us to be in such a secluded part of the lab?”

Alex glanced back at her, the dingy hallway lacking any sort of upkeep due to the lack of use of this particular area. “What I want to show you is old and requires specific equipment.” The lie sounded odd and he looked away, trying to play it off as embarrassment. “That, and I don’t want to be disturbed. It’s supposed to be a surprise for everyone but I wanted your input first seeing as I’ll need your help.”

She brightened at his half lie and he found himself relaxing. “Oh, Alex. Why did you not say so in the beginning?”

He came to a stop at an old door, smiling weakly. “It’s a surprise, remember?”

The room was coated in a layer of dust and about the size of most of their supply closets now but it was very clear that the space had once been an office. Up against the wall was the thing he had been looking for. It was an old box tv with a VCR. He went about checking the wiring and the power as he asked, “Can you close the door and get a few chairs, Toriel? I’m going to get this thing going.”

“You brought me down here for an antique like this?” she asked, incredulous. “Certainly you have equipment to play VHS tapes in your lab.”

He beamed at her but his nerves made it feel weird on his face. “Trust me. Once you see this, you’ll understand why I wanted to make sure we weren’t interrupted.” He focused back on his task, pleased when the tv powered on without a hitch. “It’s supposed to be a surprise and I don’t want anyone finding out.”

He pulled the video camera out and ejected the tape as Toriel voiced her concern. “Alex, you are acting very strangely.”

There was the whirring of the VCR taking the tape and prepping to play it as he responded as he stood. “I know it may look that way but I’m not, Toriel.” He offered her a soft smile as the tape took and the screen turned from blue to static. “I promise.”

The first video on the tape started. The entire screen was taken up by a blurry view of something brown but the audio came across as clear as day and Alex jolted at hearing Sans’s voice after such a stressful week. He glanced at Toriel but she had missed his reaction as she frowned at the television.

“-to start recording. There’s an indicator here-“ the view swung a bit to the left “-and here on the camera itself.” The blurry view swung back to the right. “There are controls here and here and if you press thi-“

The view abruptly changed, the audio cutting along with it. Now there is a shot of something colorful and very blurry. Sans’s voice returns. “-cus should be here somewhere.” The colorful thing shifted in view – or the camera did – as there was a clicking near the microphone. “Try these here and see if we can’t get any focus.”

There were a few seconds of the camera’s lens was being focused, white objects that focused into bones only to defocus a moment later crossed the view field. Finally the screen was focused on what was now clearly a shoulder and chest covered in an ugly holiday sweater. There was the tail end of a pun meaning it was most likely Sans the camera was pointed at. It was confirmed when the camera moved to take in Sans’s grinning face. Despite the smile, Sans looked exhausted. “Got a clear view of me, bro?”

“Yeah,” Papyrus commented, the volume louder due to proximity to the microphone, though it sounded muffled despite that. “Say hi to everyone, Sans.”

Sans waved, sockets closing as he offered a meek, “Hey everyone.”

“Merry Giftmas!”Papyrus happily cheered and Sans’s expression softened as the skeleton opened his sockets.

“Merry Giftmas, Pap.”

The video cut out, leaving the screen full of static for a moment. Alex felt Toriel’s gaze fall on him and knew she had questions but the next section of video started and Alex was grateful when her gaze returned to the television.

There was a brief moment of the view focusing, voices in the background. A shift, a loud thunk, and the camera focused on Sans and Toriel sitting at the other end of a table able to seat six. Movement on the left hand side of the screen doesn’t come fully onto screen but Sans watched whatever was moving with a curious expression, Toriel’s expression amused and fond as she watched the movement as well.

“All set, Pap?” Sans asked whatever had been moving, the smile on his face turning mischievous.

“The stand doesn’t really fit the camera but it will work for when I need it,” Papyrus returned, voice coming from far left.

“Well, as long as it stands up to expectations, we’ll be fine.”

As the audio of the video Toriel and Papyrus laughing and chuckling respectively at the pun filled the room, Alex heard Toriel chuckling beside him. He glanced her way, finding heavy confusion written all over her face as her eyes shined and a smile fought to come forward at the joke. He briefly wondered what she must think, seeing herself yet potentially not remembering the moment.

“I’m sure it will all develop properly once we give it some time,” Toriel added, her smile broadening.

Toriel guffawed beside him.

Sans fell into a fit of laughter as Papyrus commented, “Lady Toriel, that was horrible.”

“At least her focus was on point,” Sans countered between what remained of his laughter.

“And I shutter to think of such a fact,” Papyrus countered, his words sharp and quick but the hint of enjoyment was there to speak loudly of the lack of true annoyance at the situation.

Sans and Toriel roared with laughter.

Alex found himself chuckling at that. It had been quite some time since he had heard Papyrus make puns like that and the last time he could actually remember one was before Sans’s coma. He glanced at Toriel to see her laughing right alone with her videotaped self.

“Sans.”

Alex focused back on the television as Toriel’s voice came from the speakers.

“How are you clicking with Fatum?” Toriel asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. Sans chuckled but gave her a confused expression. Toriel nodded towards something and Sans looked behind him. He grinned.

“Fatum!” Sans called out, waving towards something out of view. “Come here a sec.”

Alex watched himself enter the screen and felt a heavy wave of nostalgia for the moment. He knew exactly what was coming and, despite the lame joke, it had been the perfect way for them to break the ice.

Alex came to stand between Sans and Toriel at the end of the table, glancing at the camera before giving Sans a skeptical look. Before he could even get a word in edge wise, Sans was already starting his joke.

“Knock knock,” Sans started, grin growing with the words.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Who’s there.”

“Alex.”

Alex narrowed his eyes at the skeleton but Sans didn’t let anything up. He asked carefully, “Alex who?”

“You’ll ask but I don’t think you’ll find an answer.”

There was laughter from even those not even at the table and Sans kept grinning at Alex as Alex gave him a very unamused look. Toriel was trying to suppress her laughter and was failing.

“Knock knock,” Sans spoke again, next joke clearly ready to go.

Alex arched an eyebrow and spoke, “Come in.”

Papyrus and Toriel lost it as Sans grew very confused. Alex, with a pleased smile on his face, patted Sans on the skull affectionately before walking away and off screen. Papyrus’s face came into view, tears streaking down the laughing face as the video cut.

Static took over and Alex leaned back in his chair. He knew he had to look at Toriel, to see if it had worked, but he was scared. What if it hadn’t? What else could he do to jog her memories?

Swallowing thickly, he shoved down the what ifs and looked over.

His eyes widened as his heart leapt in hope.

Toriel had her large paws pressed over her mouth, tears soaking the fur of her cheeks.

“Toriel?” he asked carefully, softly.

She jerked and looked at him, eyes wide. “Oh, Alex,” she whimpered from behind her paws. “How could I have forgotten them both?”

Alex relaxed, sighing in relief as he offered her a weak smile. His eyes watered but he ignored them. “I don’t know but I am so glad you remember.”

She rubbed at her eyes, her cheeks, trying to free them from water as she spoke. “I do not understand, though. How could I forget them? I truly did not remember who they were.”

Alex’s face hardened. “I think-“

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with it.”

His head snapped around. He hadn’t realized there was more on the tape, hadn’t gone beyond what he had been looking for and hadn’t thought on whether the camera had been used after the first video or not. However, his own voice proved him wrong and he stare at the screen to see himself and Papyrus standing in the brother’s cottage kitchen with their backs to the kitchen table the camera was resting on.

Alex was washing something in the sink as Papyrus stirred something on the stove. Alex looked over at Papyrus briefly, smiling. “So. Do you have any wishes?”

Papyrus tipped his head to the side, his free hand going to his hip. “Hmmm....Just one,” Papyrus conceded, “but it’s kind of silly.”

Alex snorted. “I doubt that.”

“If I say my wish, you promise you will refrain from laughing?” Papyrus demanded, shaking a sauce covered wooden spoon at Alex.

Alex looked his way, a fond yet serious look on his face. “Of course.”

Papyrus turned back to the stove, hesitated, and then said, “Someday, I’d like to leave the Underground we’re all trapped in and stand under the sky, looking at the world all around with the sun high above. That is my wish.”

A sad chuckle came from Alex as the sound of running water stopped. Papyrus turned to him again with a defiant expression edged in hurt. He wielded the wooden spoon like a weapon once more, pointing it at Alex. “Hey, you promised not to laugh.”

Alex brought his hands up. “Sorry. It’s just...that’s my wish too.” Alex gave Papyrus a sad smile before he turned so that he was leaning back against the sink as he dried his hands. “What about you, Sans? Got any wishes?”

The camera was jostled and the image blurred till it settled a bit unfocused on what was clearly Sans’s chin and mouth. The smile – blurred as it was – seemed a touch sad. “My wish is to be right beside the both of you when we get out of here.” His head turned, the sad smile vanishing as it was replaced with a different one. “But I want to see the stars. The real ones.”

The video ended and Alex sat there staring at the tv in disbelief, a fond, sad smile shaping his expression even as Toriel looked at him. He didn’t respond till she touched his arm. He glanced over but the next video started and he looked away from her sympathetic gaze to see Papyrus’s face filling the screen.

"Hello! I am the Great Papyrus and I am about to throw the most epic of birthday parties ever!" The camera was spun around to show one of the smaller conference rooms the lab had to offer. Papyrus turned the camera to the table nearest him that was laden with an assortment of snacks and hardier foods, though there was really only enough for about four people. "As you can see, I have prepared a plethora of snacks, plenty to keep us well fed till the upmost important dinner later this evening." The camera moved again, focusing on the small place in full for a moment before it was directed to another table. "I have gathered a variety of games and means of entertainment-" there were a few small stacks of videos in among the games that got focused on for a moment, "-so we will not grow bored in our merriment." The camera shifted about, finally taking in the whole of the decorations. Over the food table was a banner that was clearly homemade with streamers bounding their way along the top of the walls and balloons tucked here and there all over the place. "Over all, the decorations are set and we are now just waiting on my brother and Alex."

The door to the room opened behind the camera and the view blurred only to settle none too steadily on Sans who was standing in the doorway with a surprised expression on his face. Sans made a move to ask something but Papyrus was already speaking.

"Have you seen Alex?" the lankier skeleton asked off camera, voice coming across strained. "As much as I was expecting you to be late, Alex said he would be on time." The camera moved to show the wall as it was gestured with. "I had pulled this out to distract myself but it hasn't really worked."

There was a pause in the audio as the camera moved to show Papyrus's feet. Sans's voice finally spoke up. "Only reason why I'm late is because Alphys had asked for help on one of her projects. Alex had told me that he would be here when we went our separate ways earlier."

Papyrus took a step forward, his voice growing tighter. "Sans..."

There was a cut in the video as it changed to a blurred up and down motion, one that clearly spoke of Papyrus running with the camera still in hand. There's another cut in the video and the view is steadier though still shaky, the camera pointed at Papyrus's running feet. A final cut brought a still image of Sans's lower back and legs, a pair of shoed feet situated near the railing beyond. Sans's voice cut in, already in the middle of some sort of argument.

"-ver! You know we wanted to celebrate your birthday."

The pair of feet near the railing turned, facing Sans. Alex's voice snapped, "I never asked for you guys to celebrate my birthday. I never mentioned it because I never wanted anyone to celebrate it. You guys took it upon yourselves to celebrate it and you expect me to go and celebrate something that isn't a good memory for me. I have never had a good birthday and there is-"

"And that's the folly of others, not you," Sans cut in just a viciously. "I'm not leaving till you come and celebrate with us, damn it." Sans's body deflated. "You're family and we want to celebrate your fricken existence.”

There was a heavy pause before Sans started speaking again. "Whether you want it or not, Pap and I consider you family. And while Pap doesn't know all your history - let alone a hardy chunk - I know your past and Pap and I agreed that you need to say 'fuck you' to the ghosts of your dead family and come join ours."

There was a heavy pause, one only broken by the distance sounds of Snowdin proper from beyond the edge of the balcony. Then, after what seemed to be an eternity, a watery laugh came from Alex. "Yeah," Alex spoke, voice shaking. "Ok."
The static of the video ending was abrupt and Alex found himself staring at the empty screen not sure how to feel. He hadn't realized Papyrus had filmed that and now he wasn't even sure why the skeleton had done so. As much as it was nice to be reminded of the effort the brothers put forth to make sure he felt like family after that, he didn't like the reminder of where he had been at that point in his life.

The next video started and it was a cacophony of sound. The camera was being passed around at the larger birthday celebration that had occurred later the same evening. People were giving well wishes and talking about Alex but Alex stopped the video, the frozen image on the screen of Alex and Sans. Sans had an arm slung around Alex's neck, the hold looking a bit tight but they were both laughing. Sans had one socket closed but the eye light of the other socket was trained on Alex who was grinning. The glasses on Alex’s face had hid the fact that Alex was close to tears even while grinning like that. It vanished when he pressed the eject button. Taking the tape out, he quickly stowed it away before he turned to face Toriel. Determination was written across his face, the last image he had seen burned into his mind. He wasn’t sure what to make of Sans’s expression but it was nice to know that even as he had been fighting to keep a light mood, Sans had been there to help him. "So. How do we get the others to wake up? As much as it was luck that I found this, I doubt that I'll get as lucky with the others."

Toriel stood up, her expression set. "Leave it to me. I have a few ideas." She frowned. "What of the flower?"

Alex shook his head. "I'm fairly certain there is a camera attached to the stem. There’s not much we can do about it till I figure out a way to either disrupt the feed or remove it."

"The plant is alive, Alex." He looked to Toriel, expression blank. Her gaze was hard. "Whether it is a monster or not is left to be determined but somehow, someway, that flower is alive."

"I know." Alex watched surprise color Toriel's expression. "I also know the camera is there to keep tabs on me, for whatever reason. Thus why I left the flower upstairs and isolated you."

Toriel conceded. "You have a plan, then?"

Alex nodded. "Hopefully the little guy can give us a lead on where to go. I've been scouring maps to find some hint of where to even begin but the last 30 years worth of maps have given me nothing."

"Do you want me to help?"

He shook his head. "No. Get the others to wake up. None of this will matter if we can't get everyone's help in this. Someone is clearly trying to cover up the brothers' disappearance and going through a lot of effort to do so."

Toriel shifted her weight but did not move from where she stood. “You have an idea of who it is.”

He nodded again, not surprised that she had picked up on that. “I just can’t prove it till I get the flower to talk.”

She nodded in turn. She looked to the door before looking to him once more. “Will you be leaving the others to me, then?”

“You know them far more intimately than I do,” he offered, shrugging. “It was just luck that I could even just wake you before resorting to getting the flower to talk. Hopefully you’ll have just as much luck as I had waking you in walking the others.”

She offered him an encouraging smile. “I’m sure I will.” The smile fell. “Keep me informed on what you discover from that flower.”

“Of course.”

He stood alone in the room after Toriel left, not sure how he felt. Exhaustion was certainly winning but he couldn’t sleep yet. Rubbing at his face under his glasses, he gathered the camera and tape and headed back to Papyrus’s room.

The hallway was empty when he finally arrived at the door so he was able to slip in without anyone seeing him. Camera and tape returned to their rightful places, Alex headed for a different part of the lab.

He knocked on the frame of the open door causing those in the room to look at him. “Alex!” the only monster in the room happily chimed, bounding over. “What’s the occasion?”

“I was wondering if I could borrow that device again.” He gave an embarrassed smile as he rubbed the back of his neck as another monster stepped around him into the room. “Not sure why the darn thing’s name won’t stick with me.”

One of the humans walked over with the square device in hand as the monster before him asked teasingly, “You remember how to work it, at least?”

Alex laughed as he took the device, offering, “If not, I’ll be back.”

There was a spattering of chuckles at that and he waved goodbye as he left with a word of thanks. Tucking the device under his arm, he returned to his lab. The potted flower was still by the door but it was drooping. He affectionately rubbed a petal as he set the device down beside the flower’s pot. He flicked it open and turned the thing on. There was a brief, high pitched soft sound as the thing started working.

He thought he caught the flower twitching out of the corner of his eye.

“You don’t have to keep quiet now,” he explained, feeling a tad foolish talking to a flower regardless of whether it was a living thing or not. “That device is meant to disrupt any audio or video feed, be it microwaves, radio waves, or any other sort of wave within a small radius.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

He jumped in surprise, not expecting such a quick response. He reached out and rubbed a petal again but the flower pulled away, officially giving itself away as it hissed, “Stop that.”

Alex let his hand hang between them as he asked, “Why?”

A pair of red eyes looked up beyond the yellow petals. “Because it’s pointless, that’s why. The gesture is lost on me with no soul.”

Alex frowned, his hand returning to his side. “You’re soulless or without a soul?”

The face of the flower turned to him fully, yellow petals revealing a confused expression. “What’s the difference?” the flower challenged and Alex watched as the flower’s mouth moved. It was certainly a good thing he had grown up in a world of monsters because otherwise he probably would not be as calm as he was now faced with a flower that could speak.

“Soulless as in you don’t care about your actions and how they affect others.” Alex shrugged. “As for the other, humans and monsters all have souls and through magic we can observe them. Are you something without such a soul or are you soulless?”

The flower’s face twisted up in annoyance and frustration. “Both, I guess? I don’t know!” The face morphed and Alex let his surprise show. He had yet to come across a monster that could do that. “I just woke up like this, ok? With this creepy guy leaning over me, too.”

The flower quaked in what Alex assumed was the equivalent of a shudder. Alex tipped his head to the side, thoughtful. “Do you have memories prior to this form?”

The flower flinched as if Alex had swung at him. Alex perked up at that. “No,” the flower ground out, almost spitting.

“Liar.”

Alex wasn’t completely certain that it had even been a lie but the flower’s reaction after his word had been confirmation enough. The face changed back into the softer, first one as the petals drooped and the flower curled towards the pot. “So what if I am?” the flower challenged but what heat the flower put behind those words only made it seem far sadder than it needed to be.

“If you are, that means that you remember what it’s like to have a soul,” he replied plainly. “If you do have memories, then that means that whoever made you did it for a reason, good or bad.”

The flower looked up at him and through the petals he saw a face that seemed to resemble Toriel’s, except softer, rounder, and far more like a child’s. And suddenly the name was beyond his lips as the realization dawned on him.

“Asriel.”

The flower cringed.

Everyone knew the tragic tale of the King and Queen of Monsters and their lost children. While the monarchy didn’t rule like they once did, there was still a natural urge by all to treat the pair like royalty, especially in monsters. Sans had explained it once as a ranking system of sorts based around one’s magic level and ability to create with it, boss monster versus the common monster and sorts, but Alex had never really engrained the information. He stared at the flower, memories of learning about that historic event clear in his mind, which only brought other historic facts to mind.

“Too new,” he spoke in astonishment. He turned and shoved at the whiteboards to get to his maps. “It would be older than that. Probably far older than that.”

“What are you talking about?” Asriel demanded from his pot.

“Dr. Gaster’s hideout,” Alex informed him, digging through the maps he had. He had to have one that was old enough. “I’ve been trying to find where he took the brothers.”

“How do you know he took them?”

The question put his fears to word and he stuttered to a halt. He took a steadying breath, reminding himself that there was indeed another there. “Because everyone forgot.”

There was silence but Alex turned anyways. He focused on Asriel, the flower’s face no longer that of a child’s but the first face he had shown Alex. “Dr. Gaster specialized in the manipulation of people’s mental states, including the manipulation of memory and the perception of time. If this isn’t his work, then I have no idea who took Sans and Papyrus with not even a clue as to why. At least with Dr. Gaster there’s history between him and the brothers, whatever that history may be.”

Asriel stared at him but Alex didn’t break eye contact. Eventually, the flower looked away, turning towards the wall.

“Flowey.”

Alex blinked, confusion and curiosity coloring his expression. The flower shifted, exaggerating his eye roll. “My name. It’s Flowey now.” The fed up expression softened into something sadder. “I don’t want my-“ Asriel bit back the words. “I don’t want them knowing who I was. I’m not that monster anymore.”

“Alright,” Alex replied, gaining a shocked expression from Flowey. “Flowey it is, then.” He turned back to the maps. “Can you move out of the pot or do I need to carry you over here?”

“Why do you need me over there?”

Alex looked over and took in Flowey’s incredulous look. “Because I’m hoping that you will show me where Dr. Gaster has taken Sans and Papyrus.”

Flowey sneered, shaking the pot but going no further against the restraints. Alex stepped away from the maps. “And what if I said I didn’t know where his rabbit hole was?”

Alex unclipped the pot. “Then a good idea would be just fine, seeing as I have a general direction but nothing more.” He tucked the pot under his arm, rubbing a petal affectionately when he had a free hand. “It would be easier than scouring all of Snowdin for a single rabbit hole, at least.”

Flowey made a noise of disbelief but said no more as Alex placed the pot on the table. For a moment there was no response from Flowey, no sign that the flower was going to give anything up, but then several leafy vines curled out from the soil of the pot. Only one reached across the maps. The leaf free tip pressed against the map. “You’ll find the entrance he used here,” Flowey offered. The vine tip moved a margin away from the point. “There’s a less heavily guarded entrance here that you should have an easier time accessing and entering through.”

Alex beamed at Flowey as he ran his hand over a number of petals. “Thank you,” he spoke, his words heavy and met with a stunned expression on Flowey’s face. “Thank you so much.”

He quickly marked both spots.

“But what good is that going to do you?” Flowey asked. The question wasn’t quite a challenge to Alex’s idea, too colored by confusion.

“Toriel is working on waking everyone else,” Alex informed the potted flower, picking the pot up gently. “And I’m going to stay out of the way till she has succeeded.”

He picked up the jamming device and adjusted the radius before tucking it into Flowey’s pot.

“You do realize that if you don’t do it in the right order, then people are just going to lose their memories again, right?”

Alex shrugged as the lab doors slid closed and locked behind them. “I’m sure Toriel will figure that out. After all, you are just a flower. It is very unlikely you are the one continuously drugging everyone.”

Flowey scrutinized him. “You seem certain that it’s something that has to be regularly administered.”

“It was an assumption after I had woken up when I had seen Alphys prepping a syringe with some strange liquid. I figured the only reason I hadn’t gotten dosed then was because I had covered up enough for them to believe I was still under the influence. The theory only grew stronger the more and more Alphys tried to corner me to try and give me a shot, a pill, something to drink or eat, same with any of the others.”

An impressed look crossed Flowey’s face. “So you locked yourself up in your lab.”

Alex hummed a confirmation. “As well as keeping my room locked.” Said room was empty and dark when he opened the door and he flicked the light on. “But, yes, I mostly kept to the lab for prosperity affects.”

He locked the door before crossing to the nightstand and setting Flowey’s pot down gently.

“But what are you going to do about the camera?” Flowey asked. “You know you can’t keep it jammed forever. There’s no telling when he’ll check again, let alone what he’ll do when he can’t see anything.”

Alex sat on the edge of his bed with a sigh. “I know.” He rubbed at his shoulder mindlessly. “Can you tell when he’s activated the camera?”

Flowey shook his head. “And I doubt it’s consistent on when and for how long. That monster is not stable.”

Alex reached over and picked up the device. He kept it active as he rolled it about in his hands. “You do realize that we will be unable to talk with this thing off and the camera clear to transmit a feed at his beck and call, right?”

The petals drooped and Alex’s hand twitched as he restrained himself from reaching over and rubbing one.

“I know but what other choice do we have?” Flowey met his gaze. “I’d like to be free of that monster as much as the rest of you as soon as possible too. So what are a few more weeks of inanimate behavior.”

Alex gave in and reached over, cupping the side of Flowey’s head and rubbing what petals his thumb could reach. “I’ll get you free as soon as I can. I promise.”

The expression on Flowey’s face was hard to read but the flower gave a sharp nod. “Just make it quick.”

That quick turned into a week and a half. Alex kept to the rough routine he had set when he had been trying to find the brothers on his own but now he added an hour here and there in his lab to turn on the jamming device so that Flowey had a moment of normalcy in all the waiting. Even though there was no way the flower could properly convey such thoughts, Alex felt sure that Flowey was grateful for the moments of reprieve even while being a snarky little plant. Alex quickly found that Flowey was an excellent chess player once the flower figured out the rules and got the hang of moving things with his vines so the hour here and there was mostly spent playing chess.

It was during one of their little matches that the news came.

There was a knock on his lab door. Alex looked up, the space a wreck now that he was actually trying to work on actual work. Getting up from the center of the paper strewn floor where he and Flowey had set up – said flower was still contemplating his next move and completely disregarded the knocking – Alex crossed to the door. There was the sound of the door unlocking before it hissed open.

Toriel was on the other side beaming, Undyne behind her left shoulder and Alphys at her other side. “Everyone is awake,” Toriel announced happily. “Asgore is gathering a few others but he told us to go ahead and settle in the dining room and make a plan while we wait.”

Alex nodded, determination settling over his expression. “Let me gather a few things and Flowey and we can head that way.”

“F-Flowey?” Alphys asked, frowning behind her large glasses.

“Flowey the Flower,” Alex supplied, picking up said flower. He carefully stepped around their game as Flowey quietly cursed him for interrupting his plotting. “He’s the reason we even know where to look for the brothers.”

“Can we trust it?”

He stilled, hand over the map they needed. Flowey’s vines snaked out, rolled the map up for him, and gingerly wrapped around the tube of paper as the flower’s face turned to look up at him. Alex didn’t look at him, instead turning to look at Undyne. He couldn’t fault her for her question. Papyrus was her best friend and part of her unit.

“Whether we should or shouldn’t, I do,” Alex informed her calmly. “And right now I’m willing to take what information he has given us – the only lead I have of where our friends-our family has gone – and seeing where it ends because right now it’s all we’ve got.”

There was a breath, a moment where the others waited to see what would happen, before Undyne nodded, giving him that. “Alright,” she said, determination filling her own expression. “Then where do we start?”

“With this.”

The map was pushed out on the dining table, pinned down by objects on every corner. Flowey got placed over the lab. The last week and a half had allowed Alex to find a better, larger map of the area that had the best terrain detailing he could find. The lab took up a hardy chuck of the southeastern corner on which Flowey seemed quite pleased to be sitting. Alex got briefly distracted, wondering what sort of mini adventure Flowey was dreaming of.

“I have no idea how this building managed to go undocumented for three centuries, regardless of inhabitance or not, but I managed to find it on maps printed within the first two hundred years of the Underground. Unfortunately, very few of those maps still exist and it wouldn’t be wise to trust the outdated terrain on them anyways. The blueprints were a whole lot harder to find and while I’m not confident on the accuracy of what I did find, Flowey assured me they were close enough. Still, though, we’ll probably be going in partially blind if there is any major changes since the blueprints were created or any significant structural damage.” Alex pressed his finger to the first entrance Flowey had shown him. “This is roughly where the entrance Dr. Gaster mainly uses is located. It opens to the first sublevel of an old lab. This entrance over here,” he pressed his finger to the second mark northwest of the first one, “is in through the original building itself.”

Undyne leaned forward, hands splayed on the table’s surface. “Do you have a blueprint on you?”

One of Flowey’s vines picked up the pieces of parchment from the floor. Alex affectionately rubbed a petal in thanks as the blueprints were passed to Undyne. “Those two are the only ones that I could find that were intact enough to read. I have no way of knowing if they were made for this structure specifically or if there was another made like it but Flowey was certain they were close enough to be of use.”

She pressed out the two blueprints, the one far more faded than the other clearly being the more detailed one. The newer one more closely resembled an emergency exit map than actual blueprints. She pressed a finger to a part of the section labeled ‘Sublevel 1’. “This the entrance you were talking about.”

Alex nodded, reaching across and pointing out the entrance they would be using on the section labeled ‘Floor 1’. “This will be where we will start at. If we can’t gain access from here, our best bet is to check out the rest of the upper building before trying our hands on the one we know that works. I’d rather avoid facing Gaster till the last possible minute if I can help it.”

“Wh-what does he l-look like now?” Alphys asked from where she stood apart from him, Undyne, and Toriel.

He looked to her, offering with a weak smile but it was Flowey who answered her question.

“Nothing like the skeleton he had been.”

“Skeleton?” Toriel asked, frowning.

Flowey shrugged, pulling it off with the two leaves situated on the stem that supported the flower’s bud behaving as arms. “I don’t know much about Gaster personally but I have heard his mutterings from time to time. He was not always the goopy, inky mass he is now.”

“Goopy?” Undyne asked as Alphys inquired at the same time, “Inky?”

Again, Flowey shrugged but the glare he sent them was new. “I don’t know how to explain what he looks like, ok? You’ll just have to see it for yourself.”

Alex reached over and rubbed a petal. Flowey relaxed a bit. "Regardless, we're going to attempt to not run into Dr. Gaster if we can help it."

“You can’t be sure he’s grown complacent,” Flowey pointed out.

Alex rubbed a new petal. “True, but I can at least hope. Our main goal is to find the brothers and get them out. Trying to pick a fight will only delay us.”

“Teams then?”Undyne asked.

Alex shrugged. “It may not come to that but I am not opposed to it.”

Toriel spoke up. “Why do you think it won’t come to that.”

Alex reached over to the blueprint of the building, touching a massive room on Sublevel 1. “Flowey said the main door Dr. Gaster uses leads into Sublevel 1. That led me to believe that he was utilizing a space on that level to work, which would make sense. There would be no indication of life if all the activity is happening beneath ground level. And if the structure is sound enough, he would most likely have taken up residence in the largest room. Most experiments need quite a bit of space, especially ones that require a lot of equipment. If nothing else, it’s something to aim for.”

"That is quite a bit of speculation," Toriel pointed out, looking to him. "Are you sure?"

Alex shrugged, taking a step back. "I am not a fighter, nor a strategist. I'm a scientist, which means I can make hypotheses about where Sans and Papyrus may be but I can't guarantee anything."

"That is why I will take it over from here."

All eyes turned to the door as Asgore stepped in followed by a few canine monsters that were in the Royal Guard as well as a few human guards.

Alex nodded and picked Flowey up, holding the pot close to his chest. He settled in the background, gaze on the map, ear open to the conversations, but not actually engaging.

He blinked, looking up as Toriel touched him arm. She offered him an encouraging smile. "They will be leaving in a few minutes. It would be best if you went and got ready as well."

Alex gave a muted nod, pushing off the wall he had been leaning on. He and Toriel went separate ways barely halfway to his room and he was grateful. He pressed his face partially into the back of a few of Flowey's petals, lost in thought.

"Why are you doing that?" Flowey drawled.

"Sorry," he offered weakly, removing his face.

Flowey gave him a scrutinizing look. "That doesn't answer my question."

Alex didn't meet Flowey's gaze as he opened his door. "I guess I was just looking for comfort. This whole situation is freaking me out and I'm not sure how well I'll be able to weather through it."

Flowey frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know of my condition?" Alex asked casually, placing Flowey on the nightstand.

"What condition," Flowey demanded. Alex missed whatever expression had been present on the flower’s face at that as he started to change clothes.

"Left Ventricular Non-Compaction Cardiomyopathy," Alex spoke in rote. "A heart condition that makes things, ah...interesting."

"I don't understand."

Alex pulled out a jacket and slung it on over the shirt and long sleeve undershirt he had changed into. "Basically, it's a complicated name for simply not having a fully developed left ventricle. My heart can't handle stress very well." He looked to Flowey, certain his exhaustion was written all over his face. "On top of that, my lungs are damaged and not just from my smoking habit. If I make it out of this alive, I'll be impressed. I've been pushing my life expectancy since I turned six, so, there's that."

Flowey was still frowning at him when he picked the potted flower up. "Aren't there drugs and things to help with that?" He gained a flat look from the flower. "Like not smoking."

He chuckled. "If my condition was more common, sure, but there have not been enough of us born with it in this Underground or any of the ones we used to be in contact with to actually have anything of sustenance to study and work with. As much as it would be nice to have a normal life, I'm honestly ok with the death date hanging over my head."

Flowey actually looked startled at that and Alex laughed, gaining a few passing glances. "Don't worry, I'm not suicidal. Just tired." He gave a tired smile. "And, honestly, I couldn't see a greater thing to die from than working to save the brothers."

Flowey turned, looking ahead of them as he crossed the two leaves acting as arm mimics. "Well, just don't go getting yourself killed. It certainly wouldn't be doing anyone any favors after all this."

Alex shifted the weight of the pot into one hand as he chuckled. He rubbed at a few petals with his free hand with a fond smile. "I'll do what I can but I'm not making any promises."

He wondered if Flowey pressing into his touch was his imagination from him walking.

Undyne found him before he could wander very far. She didn't say anything as she turned and gestured for him to follow. He fell into step dutifully, Flowey quiet in his arms.

The others were already at the main entrance of the lab when they arrived and Alex was surprised to see a few extra people there, particularly Toriel and Alphys. Last he had heard, they weren't coming with.

"We'll be seeing you off," Toriel informed him as she approached him, keeping him briefly separate from the rest of the group. He passed her Flowey, ghosting a hand over the top of his petals in a quick gesture.

"Don't mind his sharp words while I'm gone," Alex offered as a weak conversation piece. The smile on his lips felt just as weak. "And make sure he has something he can engage in. Boredom will only make his words sharper."

A vine smacked at his hand as the flower glared at him. His weak smile turned into a weak grin as Toriel smiled. "I will keep that in mind." She placed a large paw on his shoulder. "You will take care, will you not?"

Alex nodded, any pretense of amusement falling from his face. He wondered if he looked more tired like that. "As best I can. Our main objective is get in, get the brothers, and get out with no confrontation if we can help it."

"I-I-I will be e-expecting to see you afterwards, A-alex," Alphys spoke up, her gaze sharp behind those large glasses resting on her snout. "I-I-I want to be c-certain you are f-fine after this."

Alex nodded, not looking to counter her decision as Asgore straightened, gaining everyone's attention as he looked over the crowd and asked, "Is everyone present?" When there was no word against the question, he nodded. "Then let us head out." His gaze fell on Alex and Undyne. "Lead the way."

Alex nodded and stepped forward, Undyne falling into step behind his right shoulder. He could hear the plates of her armor moving against each other in a soft, smooth sound. Though it didn't get used very often, she clearly still took care of her armor. It was obvious by all – even Asgore – that despite his words, they were anticipating a fight with how everyone was dressed in some form of armor. Alex was clearly the only civilian going and he suddenly felt like he was in the way as he took the first step into the fresh snow just beyond the lab's parking lot, footfall sure as he led the way into Snowdin’s forest.
The trek was quiet beyond the sounds of the forest and their footfall in the snow. The sliding of well kept plate armor and clothing was an undertone to the harsh crunching against the ice layer beneath the fresh powder. Occasionally there would be muttered words or the sound of sniffing but it was nothing more than the canine monsters as they wandered the border of the mass of people and reported any findings.

There weren’t many.

A hand settled on his shoulder and he jumped, looking over at Undyne. Her good eye held concern as she asked softly, “How you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Undyne,” he offered with an amused smile.

Her gaze hardened. “Your hands are shaking.”

Surprise rushed through him as he looked down. Sure enough his hands were trembling in the gloves he couldn’t remember shoving on. He clenched his hands into fists, trying desperately to stave off the tremors. Her grip tightened on his shoulder and he fought the urge to shrug it off. “I can lead from here if you want to head back to the lab.”

Alex shook his head. “No. I want to help find them.” He met Undyne’s gaze again. “If I’m not there helping, I’ll just kill myself with worry. Besides,” they stepped around a clutch of trees and the ruins of a building were suddenly ahead of them, “it would be pointless to leave now.” He turned as the group behind them came to a stop, Asgore the only one approaching. The boss monster’s expression was hard but Alex recognized it for the mask that it was. “Here’s the main entrance to the building.” Asgore stopped before he stepped fully between Alex and Undyne. Alex studied his face. “Does it look familiar?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Asgore confessed, “I am not sure. It feels as if I should know this building but I do not know if it is time’s affect on the building or myself that makes it unrecognizable.”

Alex nodded, stepping back as Asgore moved forward, a pair of canine monsters rushing forward to follow. Undyne stepped up to Alex’s side, questioning, “What made you think Asgore would recognize it?”

Alex gave her a side look. “Because he’s a boss monster, one that has lived so long to be able to say that he had lived during the times of the Overworld War. On top of that, he and Toriel have been in Snowdin since their children passed away some 77 years ago and then some. If anyone knows the lands, it would be them.” He looked back at the building. “Not to mention this building is currently being occupied by one Dr. W.D. Gaster, the original Royal Scientist. If this had been the monster’s home or lab, it would have given us a bit better of a chance of knowing the layout. As much as we scientists isolate ourselves, Asgore and Toriel are very personable and would have made house calls to check up on both the progress of the projects and how the scientist is handling the strain, making sure that breaks are taken and proper food is consumed before proper rest is found.”

Undyne arched an eye ridge at him. “They do that? As Royals?”

Alex shrugged, watching as the trio returned from their scouting of the building’s perimeter. “You and I both know that their old titles have no standing anymore. The Council had offered them places on it, had encouraged it, but after the death of their children and so many others, after so many years of service, they retired. Now they simply run the Snowdin Lab out of something to do and they’re good at making sure their scientists tend to themselves properly.” He shot Undyne a smile as the canine monsters rushed by back to the group. “Did you never once question why there were actual living quarters in the lab? Why each of us were granted living quarters for loved ones and personal work spaces? The Dreemurrs led the construction and expansion of the Snowdin Lab.”

“That had been quite an enjoyable experience as well,” Asgore added as he joined them, a pleasant smile on his face. “I am glad the Council allowed Tori and I to retire after everything. So much good has come of it.”

Alex hummed in agreement.

Asgore placed a large paw on both Alex’s and Undyne’s backs guiding them gently back towards the main body of the group. “Come. I want one last word before we enter.”

Alex fell into step without another word, though he could feel Undyne’s eye on him.

“There was no sign of activity or security from the boundaries,” Asgore spoke, his expression serious even as he didn’t remove his paw from Alex’s back. “The front door looks feeble enough that I am going to send Dogi and Spencer to see if they can get in quietly and carefully.” The two canine monsters that had checked the house with Asgore moved towards a human. The human nodded. “Don’t forget to check to see if the door is already unlocked but be careful opening the door regardless,” Asgore directed to the human specifically before returning his attention to the whole group. “Once they have gained entrance, they will scout ahead as we file in behind them. Alex will take the lead at this point and guide us to the first sublevel. Once there, we fan out in teams of twos and threes looking for Sans and Papyrus and any other survivors. Avoid killing anyone to the best of your ability. Any questions?” There was a number of heads that were shook no but no one actually said anything. “Good. Then let us find the brothers.”

The trio dashed ahead and Alex settled back at the edge of the forest. Undyne seemed to be his shadow now as she joined him without a word. A few minutes later, they all watched the front door open and the three dashed in. Alex shifted but offered no words when Undyne glanced his way. There were no words to be spared as they all waited for some sort of signal, good or bad.

Dogamy returned to the door and gestured for them to follow.

Alex raced across the grounds, Undyne easily keeping pace even as he hit the deck’s stairs. He was across the threshold first, his footfall unpracticed but as soft as he could make it as he walked carefully into the space. The place looked thoroughly abandoned, not even a piece of furniture remaining to dictate that anyone had once lived there. The trio that had entered first had found the stairs down a side hallway and Alex nodded to them before he started down, Undyne so close that he feared she would trip him up on their descent.

That never happened and his foot touched level ground without an issue. It was unbelievably dark and it was only thanks to the spear Undyne had summoned that he had any light to see by. She passed him the spear as she summoned another one. He stepped away from the stairs, orienting himself with the maps he had looked over enough to have nearly memorized. He briefly noted that a few other monsters had created their own lights through their magic. The brightest light came from Asgore’s trident where a flame had nestled among the prongs. Alex caught the boss monster’s gaze long enough to receive a nod before he turned and started walking down the hallway he hoped would lead to where he needed it to go.

Thankfully it went unobscured and he was able to continue on to a new hallway some minutes into his search.

The next turn proved how close they had gotten as he found one end of the hallway bathed in low light from the room at the end. He moved towards it but a hand around his bicep stopped him. He looked back to see Undyne and some human Alex didn’t know there with him, Undyne’s hard gaze on him.

“Don’t go wandering off on your own,” she growled out, voice barely audible even in the silence.

He pulled his arm from her grip, finding that her hold broke rather easily all things considered. “I had thought you were with me,” he answered honestly, his voice just as soft. “Besides, you have to be as eager as I am to find them before Dr. Gaster discovers we’re here and does something to them.”

She gritted her teeth. He was right and he could see she was not ok with that. Still, she nodded but instead of letting him go on ahead, she took point, giving him a pointed look when he tried to surpass her. As they neared the lit end of the hallway, Undyne directed him and the other human up against the left wall. They stopped at the edge of the space and Alex took in the expansive room beyond.

It was a wreck, tech and equipment everywhere. Wires, cables, and pipes looked corroded and in desperate need of replacement. There was clear signs of electricity being fed through some cables that were dangerously exposed and Alex couldn’t help but shudder. Undyne glanced back at him.

“Where to, brainiac?” she asked.

He gave her a flat look. “Let me lead.”

She glared at him but he didn’t waver. With a soft sigh, she stepped out of his way.

Hunched low, Alex moved forward, gaze going back and forth to take in all the room that he could see during his slow progress through it. He could hear Undyne and the other human behind him, moving with him. It felt like ages till they reached the other side of the room. There was a giant machine of sorts blocking their view but when Alex glanced around it, he saw-

“Sans!” he hissed but the skeleton did not stir. Undyne, however, moved to look around the object as well, pressing a hand into his back to keep either him in place or herself steady. She edged out farther than he had only to come back, hand tangled in his jacket and forcing him to follow her some ways back the way they had come.

“They are both strapped down,” Undyne informed them, eye wary but her expression hard, “and it doesn’t look like our big bad is anywhere nearby. Let’s backtrack and get the others.”

Alex grabbed at her wrist, his grip as hard as he could make it around the fabric armor. “We can’t just leave them,” he ground out. “We leave and we run the risk of him returning and doing the brothers more harm. There are three of us. We go in, grab them, and book it back to the others. No big deal.”

Undyne shook her head. “It’s too much of a risk. If this Gaster returns-“

“Then we run, right?” the other human supplied, clearly on Alex’s side with this. “Meaning no offence, Captain, but the scientist has a point. Not to mention we would be wasting precious time going back to only return here. If we move quickly, this will be a non-issue and we can leave this place completely.”

Undyne growled, not appreciating being out numbered, but their logic had worn her down. She gave a sharp nod. “Fine. But let me break their bonds. Grison, you grab Sans. Alex, you’ll help me with Papyrus.”

The two humans nodded.

Undyne moved back to the edge of the machine and looked around as Alex came up right behind her, waiting. When Undyne dashed forward, Alex was right behind her, the other human on his heels. As much as he wanted to go to Sans first, he passed the stout skeleton slowly coming to at the commotion he was certain they were making. Papyrus made no such reaction.

“Ullux?” Sans slurred from his table, the sound jarring in the silence. “Wuz goen on?”

No one answered him as spears twirled into existence over the lock parts of the bindings and sliced through with such precision that the bindings were cleanly cut while the skeletons were left untouched. Alex caught Papyrus with a grunt, the lanky skeleton’s dead weight being far more than he had anticipated. It seemed the other human was far better prepared to catch Sans for when Alex glanced over Sans was draped over the human’s back, arms dangling over the human’s shoulder and legs being brought up on either side of the human’s waist so that the human could hook his arms underneath the skeleton’s knees.

“Were u taken us?” Sans slurred some more, this time the words sounding like a demand.

Undyne took Papyrus off of Alex and hefted the skeleton into a fireman’s carry. Alex was partially perplexed on why Undyne even had him help in the first place till he remembered she had been the one to break the skeletons’ bonds. Knowing Undyne had it from there, he quickly hurried to the other human’s side, careful hand pressing against Sans’s exposed cheek. “We’re getting you home, Sans,” Alex whispered, his thumb rubbing against bone he had feared he would never touch again. “Just stay quiet, ok?”

“M’kay,” Sans mumbled, what faint pupils had formed vanishing as Sans seemed to fall unconscious again.

Alex looked to Undyne and nodded. “Let’s go,” he breathed.

She gestured with her head for the human with Sans to go ahead of her but nothing she did got Alex to get ahead of her so she settled with having him keeping close to her side, watching her back. Alex was glad she had because no sooner had they slipped beyond the machine did the room flood with light. Alex tried to clear his eyes of spots as Undyne yelled, “Run!”

Desperation shoved his feet after her and managed to keep pace with the laden fish monster. A voice reverberated through the space in words that made no sense and caused them all to flinch. But even as his ears heard noises that made no sense, Alex’s mind was filled with a voice that echoes and reverberated in ways that hurt.

“ANd whERE EXACTly dO yOU THINk yOU aRE gOiNg?”

“Faster!” Alex screamed without glancing back. He had no need to. Whatever Gaster had become was making enough noise for Alex to know that they were losing ground rapidly.

They passed into the hallway they had come from and, for a brief - foolish – moment, he thought they were going to be safe, that they were going to be free.

Then something slammed into his back, tendrils slapping around his torso to grip tightly, and he knew that he had been so very wrong.

Yanked backwards, he let out an involuntary cry at the painful change in directions. Undyne and the other human slowed but he was dragged too quickly back into the large lab space to know if they actually turned around or kept going.

He hoped they kept running.

Whatever was dragging him through the space wasn't overly careful as he bumped and banged into different objects, all hard, all unforgiving. By the time he was flung to the floor, his entire body ached from the mistreatment and he reached up with a shaking hand to fix his glasses.

The room came into better focus and he found the space to be unfamiliar, not that it meant much. Clambering shakily to his feet, he made to get out of there but was slammed into some wall. Whatever had thrown him into the unyielding surface was still pressed against his torso, tendrils oozing slowly around his chest to encompass him in full as the mass that was now Dr. W.D. Gaster came into view.

He jerked against the mass pinning him, hands pressing into the goopy mass only to have it slowly give under his pushing and sucking his arms into the goop still oozing to encompass his torso. He jerked again, this time jerking backwards and hitting his head against the unforgiving wall.

Pain flared through his skull that only intensified with the distorted chuckle that rang through it.

“YOU caN STruggLe aLL you WaNt. ThERe iS nOWheRe fOR you TO gO.”

He forced an eye open against the pain, flinching away as a tendril reached towards his face as what passed as Gaster’s face moved closer.

A shudder ran down his spine when the tendril rubbed against the bridge of his nose and he opened his eyes to stare up at a hazy Gaster, the tendril dangling his glasses before his face. The goop around his torso was starting to climb his neck.

“piTy You’rE brOKEN.”

He had only a moment to gasp at the sensation of some of the slimy goop slipping under his shirt and sliding to his chest before pain erupted from where the sensation stopped. He tried to curl up, tried to get away, but whatever was digging its way into his chest was spreading throughout his body. There was nothing he could do except scream as the pain and whatever was filling him reached through his limbs and started to crawl up through his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, gave one last futile attempt to break free as his pain filled scream turned fearful.

He knew nothing more when it touched his brain.

Sans wasn’t sure what he was seeing was real. There, beside his brother, was Alex. Magic made spears that were oddly familiar were materializing over Papyrus’s bindings and, for a moment, he feared the worst.

But then Papyrus was falling from his bindings and Sans suddenly found him chest against someone’s back he didn’t know. To even summon pupils hurt but even the faint ones he formed cleared his vision enough for him to watch Papyrus being hefted onto Undyne’s shoulders from where he laid dead weight on the stranger’s back. There was a jostle, like the human was hefting him higher up, and the words spilled out in a slur without his bidding.

“Were u taken us?”

The Alex he could barely make out stepped clearly into view, hand coming up to cup his face. Sans felt a shudder race down his spine at the contact.

“We’re getting you home, Sans,” Alex whispered, his thumb rubbing against Sans’s cheek. “Just stay quiet, ok?”

“M’kay,” Sans mumbled, what faint pupils he had formed vanishing as he fully slumped against the stranger holding him. If Alex said they were going home, he trusted him, even with as foolish as that was.

Alex looked to Undyne and nodded. “Let’s go,” he breathed.

There was sudden jostling and Sans barely registered that the stranger he was draped across had gone first as the blurry world started to dash by. There was a moment, a pause as they made their way back towards some exit and then the room flooded with light. He flinched from the sudden sensory assault as Undyne yelled, “Run!” somewhere behind him.

The stranger carrying him made no attempt to make it a smooth ride and he couldn’t blame them in his foggy mind. Especially not when that voice rattled through his head making his hands twitch.

“ANd whERE EXACTly dO yOU THINk yOU aRE gOiNg?”

“Faster!” Alex screamed somewhere behind him. Sans felt his soul quicken at that. How far did they have to go? Would they make it in time?

The lighting changed drastically and it was with faint pupils that he took in a hallway he couldn’t remember them entering. He raised his head as best he could and looked back.

Magic condensed rapidly into pinprick pupils as he watched Gaster slam a tendril into Alex’s back, a spider web of smaller tendrils slapping around the human’s torso, and yanked him back towards the lab they were leaving.

He wasn’t sure if it was him or Alex that had screamed.

Probably both.

“Keep moving!” Undyne barked even as the human carrying him seemed to speed up.

“But what about-“ the stranger started but Undyne cut him off.

“He’ll have to survive until I can get aid.”

Chatter drew Sans’s attention from the shrinking doorway behind them and he turned to see Asgore and others pouring into the hallway. Undyne moved passed the slowing human carrying Sans and carefully passed Papyrus to the Dogi. The couple was very careful, supporting the unconscious skeleton well.

“Alex was captured,” Undyne quickly explained to Asgore. “We have to go back for him.”

Asgore nodded, looking to those that gathered. “Wait here. We’ll take the most direct route out as soon as we have Alex.”

There was a collection of nods as the pair raced back towards the lab. Sans watched them go as screams started to reach them. Sans bit back some noise that had climbed up the back of his throat and pulled at the human’s top even as exhaustion begged him to sleep again. “Put me down.” The human glanced back at him but he didn’t give them a chance to argue as he repeated, “Put me down. Now.”

The human complied without a word, setting him on shaking legs. But they stayed under him and he found that he couldn’t bring himself to ease the fist tangled in the human’s top.

The screams suddenly changed and Sans took a step forward, magic churning inside him so painful that he would have collapsed to the floor had the human not wrapped their arms around his chest.

“Alex,” he croaked, pushing against the human’s arms even as he was pulled upright.

“They’ll rescue him, Sans,” the human urged, not letting go. “But they can only do that if you stay here.”

The majority of the lights suddenly went out in the lab. What light remained flickered and danced in a way that made Sans uneasy. And just as he was trying to figure out what was going on, the smell of smoke touched his senses.

His pupils shrank. “Fire,” he whispered as his right socket throbbed. His entire body started to shake and he gripped at the arms holding him up. “Oh stars.”

“Sans?” the human asked but he ignored them, left socket trained on the end of the hallway as he pressed his hand against his right socket trying to ease the sudden pain.

The flames were being fueled by something potent because it wasn’t long before the fire was making its way down the hallway. The body of people slowly moved back the way they had come till the fire cut them off. Sans barely noticed that those that had made it down the side hallway were returning looking scared and defeated.

“How do we get out now?” someone asked.

A thought flickered through his mind and he spoke without moving his gaze from the inferno heading their way, “There’s an exit at the other end of this hallway. It leads into the surrounding forest.”

“We should start heading that way,” another said.

Someone else shot back, “Not without Asgore and Undyne.”

“I’m not getting burned alive!”

There was movement at the fire filled end of the hallway and suddenly Asgore came bursting through the wall of flames, Undyne right on his tail with spears appearing and firing at something.

And then Gaster appeared and Sans jerked back, nearly throwing himself and the human off balance.

The tar mass that was Gaster was spreading, tendrils slapping against the wall as he was spread out so that the entire other end of the hallway was obscured by his mass. Other tendrils shot out and forward, some getting impaled by Undyne’s spears, others dodging but not making any actual progress in grabbing either escaping prey. The hallway was quickly shortening as Gaster came after them.

Asgore was upon them all far too soon, meaning Gaster was not too far behind.

“To the exit!” Asgore barked, and Sans found himself suddenly hefted up onto the human’s back before being carried away from the monster chasing them all.

There was a rumble, low but telling, and Sans tore his gaze from Gaster in time to watch the ceiling give out. Somehow the fire had spread to the floor above them because when the ceiling gave between Gaster and the group of fleeing humans and monsters, there was quite a bit of burning material that nearly crushed Undyne in the process of halting Gaster’s progress. Undyne raced ahead, no longer burdened with the task of protecting the back of the fleeing group.

But Sans was unable to keep from watching the burning blockade as Gaster screamed in rage. It wasn’t till the brisk night air hit him that he realized they had made it outside.

Somewhere in the trees a large fire was ragimg. He wondered if it was the rest of the lab.

“How’s Alex?” Undyne asked as those running came to a stop some distance from the exit.

Sans looked over to the boss monster being questioned and found Asgore’s arms laden with an unconscious Alex. “I don’t know,” Asgore confessed, meeting Sans’s gaze over Undyne’s shoulder. “But we’ll get them all home and checked over. There’s no need to stay here now that we have Sans and Papyrus back.”

There was a collective agreement as the group started for the Snowdin lab. Sans fought the exhaustion as best he could but was unable to keep the darkness at bay. It took over as the lab came into view and he was unconscious before the human carrying him made it to the parking lot.

When he woke again, he found himself in his room staring at a ceiling he hadn’t realized he had missed till that moment. He looked over to his bedside and found it empty. It made his soul hurt to not find someone there waiting for him to wake up.

Pushing himself upright was exhausting but he wasn’t about to lay about when he knew nothing of his brother’s condition nor Alex’s. He shuffled his way over to the door and opened it, stepping out into a quiet hallway. He hadn’t bothered to glance at the clock and see what the time was. It didn’t matter. What mattered was finding out how his brother and Alex were doing.

His soul twisted at the thought of what Gaster could have done to Alex and he quickened his pace as best he could.

He found Papyrus’s room first but it was empty, though there were clear signs that it had been used recently. Turning, he started in the direction he had just come from aiming for Alex’s room.

It was there he found the others. Papyrus was seated in a chair beside Alex’s occupied bed, Toriel and Asgore standing near the door as Undyne was seated in a chair at the foot of Alex’s bed, Alphys on the floor leaning back against Undyne’s legs with Undyne’s arms draped over her shoulders. For some reason there was a potted flower with a face sitting in Papyrus’s lap.

“So what’s the damage?” Sans asked, his voice coming out gravelly and lower than normal.

Everyone looked at him but he only had eyes for his brother and the unconscious Alex in the bed. Alex looked sickly pale as Papyrus looked exhausted and thin. The last who knew how long had not been kind to either of them and Papyrus’s magic was not able to fill out the clothes draped over his bones like it normally would have, making Papyrus look as skinny as his physical form truly was. It was a haunting image.

Sans wondered if he was the only one to see the orange magic churning in Papyrus’s sockets, not as tears but as barely restrained magic.

“Gaster did something to Alex but they’re not sure what,” Papyrus spoke, expression hard. “I’ve been given the green light to move about but they said that the trait infusion may have done some unforeseen damage to my system.”

“T-t-trait infusions like w-what Papyrus went th-through usually h-have some sort of r-repercussions,” Alphys supplied meekly from her spot on the floor.

Sans turned his attention back to Papyrus. “How do you feel about it?”

Papyrus shrugged, exhaustion creeping into his hard expression. “Right now, exhausted but not any different. That may be due to the lack of magic from Gaster’s last experiment.”

Sans nodded, remembering how Gaster had forced Papyrus to expel so much magic that it had left Sans wondering if he would even have a brother when Gaster made him finally stop. It hadn’t helped that Gaster had done the same thing to him before turning on Papyrus.

“They found Frisk.”

Sans jerked at that, sockets wide as they focused on the potted flower in Papyrus’s hands. There, in the center of the petals, was a round face with few details beyond a pair of eyes and a mouth. The expression he was seeing was guarded and wary. “They found Frisk about the same time they found you and Papyrus,” the flower continued.

“Flowey’s right,” Toriel spoke, causing Sans to jump. Her expression was hard to read when he looked over but he was sure that concern and regret was part of it. “Asgore’s group found the child in a cell not far from where you and your brother were found.”

“Did you find any others?” Sans snapped, not sure if it was fear or anger that had made his words sharp.

“No,” Asgore spoke, expression hard as he stepped forward and partially in front of Toriel. Sans lowered his face to show that he hadn’t meant anything by it. “Only the one child. Should we have found others?”

Sans shook his head. “The other was a menace, completely controlled by Gaster. If you were only able to find and save one, I’m glad it was Frisk and not Chara.”

“Could Chara have made it out?” Papyrus asked.

Sans looked over. He couldn’t read Papyrus’s expression and wasn’t sure if he really wanted to. “It wouldn’t surprise me but I’m not sure where they would have gone.”

“Could we save Chara, too?”

Sans focused on Flowey. “Why would you want to rescue them?”

“Because they aren’t truly mindless.” Sans arched an eye ridge at the flower. He doubted that and Flowey seemed to understand that for he explained, “Chara was made long before Frisk and behaved very similarly in the beginning. They had been kind, caring, and did as Gaster asked, up to a point. It wasn’t till the other experiments started to fail and Gaster started making Chara destroy them that they changed. When Frisk had been created, they had tried to help Chara but, at that point, Chara was beyond whatever help Frisk could offer.”

Silence met his words and Sans, for the first time since all this started, felt sympathy for the child with the same name as the villain in his dream.

“When Frisk awakes, we will ask them if they know where this Chara may have gone if they had survived,” Toriel spoke up. Sans caught sight of her expression and was unsurprised to see her moved and determined. He smiled weakly. Toriel had always been rather fond of children, especially since her own had passed so long ago.

Flowey nodded, leaning into Papyrus’s soft touch as the skeleton stroked the flower’s petals.

“So how long till he wakes up?” Sans asked, turning his gaze once more to Alex.

The response - surprisingly - came from Undyne this time. “We don’t know. Could be a few hours, could be a couple of days. Until we know what Gaster did to him, we don’t have any answers.”

Sans shifted his gaze to his brother to find Papyrus studying him. Sans, for his part, merely held his brother’s gaze. He knew deep in his soul that neither he nor Papyrus were going to just up and abandon Alex. The human could be in a coma for years or wake up not remembering them at all and they would still stick around and make sure Alex was safe, healthy, and well taken care of till they turned to dust.

He prayed to whatever deity was listening that Alex actually woke up.

He wasn’t sure Papyrus would make it through losing Alex after all this.

He certainly wouldn’t survive that sick twist of fate, that’s for sure.
Whatever he was in – be it a void or simply darkness itself – was heavy and refusing to let go even as awareness dragged at him. Caught in the limbo between both states of being, he simply existed with no thoughts till something outside of him changed.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, nor when he had realized he noticed it, but there was a faint buzzing that was slowly, steadily increasing that made him think of forgetfulness; though it wasn’t so much about forgetfulness itself as it was about him having forgotten something that had probably been important. He just couldn’t remember what it was he was supposed to remember.

Voices joined the buzzing. A few rang rather familiar, others did not. A lot did not. He frowned in that nothingness now concerned with what he had forgotten. With those few familiar voices came the sudden sense of urgency and foreboding and he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was these feelings were meant to be towards.

There was the impression of an image – a mask-like white face with cracks from both void-like eyes and an equally void-like grin spreading too wide – and his eyes snapped open. Air rushed his lungs and his heart rate soared, clashing with the immediate lead weight of his body. He choked on the air and his body reacted accordingly. The coughing rattled even the heaviest parts of him and his body’s infuriating reaction jerked him into a sitting position. Surprise mingled with the pain, panic, and adrenaline of the coughing fit as he took in the blurry view of the room. Bodies blurred beyond recognition pressed in at the edge of his bed and what he could make out of the room looked a lot like his room in the lab. Words flittered in and out of his mind but none were comprehensible as the coughing fit zapped him of what strength the adrenaline had given him. Sluggishly he pulled himself away from those nearest him; none of the voices brought comfort and the dark shapes beyond the speakers added a weight to his chest that cut off even more air.

A spot of off-white, round and stout, drew his attention instantly as the bodies nearest his bed ebbed and flowed. That spot of off-white had two dark spots on it and, despite not wearing his glasses, he knew exactly what it was.

“Sans,” he croaked, reaching towards the spot. The effort it took to reach out was more than he could handle while trying to stay as upright as he was and flopped back onto the mattress. Another spot of off-white – this one oblong and a bit more rectangular – joined the first, both cutting in front of the mass of bodies to stand at his side. They both bent close enough for him to see both their faces, blurry but clear enough to discern the relief. “Papyrus.” He reached for them both and he felt two different boney hands take his. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Papyrus reached around his brother and grabbed something that didn’t make sense to his brain till the skeleton brought it to Alex’s face and the world cleared. He blinked against the sudden clarity as the glasses settled on the bridge of his nose. Not only could he see the brothers clearly, he could now make out those behind them. He tugged on Sans’s hand, asking in a low voice, “And who are all these people?”

Sans’s expression changed to something that made his stomach drop. He couldn’t find the words to describe the look but he watched as the stout skeleton turned away, asking one of the people behind him, “Tori, do you and the others mind giving us a minute?”

One of the goat monsters nodded as everyone filed out. Everyone, that is, except for Sans and Papyrus.

The more that left, the greater the shadows grew, and more than just exhaustion had him shaking.

“Alex.” He looked at Sans, finding an expression that spoke so much more than the gentle, careful way the other had said his name. “Can you tell me what you remember before waking up?”

He frowned. The memories were there, he could almost see them, but some sort of apprehension made him avoid the question. It was irrational, truly. Memories couldn’t hurt him. “Wh….Yes, but what does that have to do with my questions?”

He was given a strained smile. “Please, Alex? Just humor me.”

His shaking increased as he relented, his hand gaining a squeeze from the skeleton ones still holding on. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to even think about it, but he knew he was being ridiculous. It wasn’t like it was a hard question. He could remember what had happened before he had fallen asleep. He forced his mouth to move, forced the words out, because Sans had asked him to. “You and Papyrus had been cau…cap….”

The words stalled out. He could see it, could see them tied up to the tables, blue spears appearing to pierce their restraints. He felt Papyrus’s dead weight, heard Sans’s voice through the room. He remembered running, remembered…

Something wrapped around his chest, squeezing hard, yanking him back, and he tried to scrape at whatever was holding onto him but his arms were pinned and whatever it was didn’t move. It didn’t even budge against all of his desperate flailing. A desperate, wordless cry escaped his lips as he panicked. Magic rushed over him and terror ripped through his throat.

He screamed.

He found his back colliding with something hard. The wind was knocked out of him but he didn’t still, didn’t stop as he tried to get away. He had to get away. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – let it do it to him again. He wouldn’t survive a second time!

Firm hands pressed on either side of his face and he blinked rapidly, vision clearing. Words suddenly rushed his mind and he started to realize Sans was talking to him as the skeleton held his head steady, low voice calm as Papyrus hovered not far behind. His breathing stuttered as he gasped for air and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for a completely different reason. It was all he could do to not be swallowed by panic a second time as his lungs seized and the coughing fit stole his ability to breathe.

Everything hurt.

There on the edge of blissful unconsciousness he felt himself returning to full awareness with each painful but easy breath. His face felt tacky. He tried to rub at it but his arm was too heavy.

“Welcome back.” Sans’s voice wrapped around him, just as careful as the silence that followed. He closed his eyes to blink but found that it was difficult to open them again. He got them to open anyways. “Do you need anything?”

He shook his head slowly out of a habitual reaction but the motion was sedated and stalled out halfway through. Annoyance flittered briefly through the exhaustion weighing him down. “No.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Alex frowned at that, assuming Sans was talking about whatever had led to him ‘waking up’, but he couldn’t seem to pin down any distinct memories. His chest burned like it did after one of his really bad fits. “One of my fits,” he croaked tentatively. What else could it have been?

The air around him grew thick. “What?” he demanded with another croak. His throat hurt.

“You had a panic attack, Alex,” Papyrus corrected him gently. “A really, really bad one.”

“Do you remember it getting triggered?” Sans asked, concern heavy in his words.

Alex gave a wry sort of chuckle. It scraped against his lungs and caused him to cough a few times. They were small coughs that barely moved him but they still hurt. “I don’t even remember the fit, so no.” He let that hang in the air, waiting for anything to be said. When nothing came, he asked softly, “So how bad are we talking?”

“You remember the day terror Pap and I had before we were kidnapped?”

He frowned. They had been kidnapped? “Yes,” he spoke, his words heavy with his confusion, “but when di–”

“Worse than that kind of bad,” Sans cut in. “I don’t really know what Pap and I did when we had been trapped in it but I do know that we hadn’t really reacted physically. I saw the aftermath of Pap’s experience. But you…”

The words died and Alex wondered if he wanted to know the rest.

“Alex.” Papyrus came into his line of sight and he blinked at the skeleton. His eyelids didn’t want to open when he had closed them but he forced them open. “I’m going to place my hands on your chest and use healing magic. Is that alright?”

He frowned. “Why do you need to–”

He had moved to see why Papyrus would need to waste magic on him, but Sans’s hand covered his forehead and pressed his head back down, pinning it down. Panic swirled in his gut as his position was changed by the action and he found himself staring up at Sans. “Why does he need to heal me?” Sans didn’t answer him, didn’t even look at him as Papyrus came closer. Alex thrashed, scared. Sans pinned him by placing his other hand at the top of his sternum. Exhaustion kept the rest of him still despite the adrenaline now rushing through him. “Sans! Why does he need to heal me?!”

“You dug at your chest.”

That cut through even the panic and froze him in place. “What?” he managed to choke out.

“It’s nothing overly serious,” Sans assured him, though the other’s tone was flat and Sans was still not looking at him. “You managed to tear your shirt and some of the scratches are bleeding but it’s nothing serious.”

“I don’t understand,” Alex countered, flinching when he felt his shirt get pulled away from his body. Whatever angle Sans had his head pinned at made it hard for him to even see Papyrus. “Why does that warrant all this? Why can’t I look?”

“Because you don’t remember the panic attack.”

The silence was filled with the faint hum of magic as Alex felt two skeleton hands press against his chest. He flinched away, a part of him feeling too exposed and wanting to get away, to hide and cover himself. The larger part of him flinched back out of fear. The magic that curled over him and seeped into his body made his lungs itch like he had to cough and his heart ache under the weight but the warmth of it made him want to sleep again. It was oddly familiar and despite not being able to recall any time prior he could have become familiar with the lanky skeleton’s magic, it soothed some of his fried nerves and he didn’t resist as it carefully spread through him, ever conscious of his condition.

“Can you answer a few questions for me?” Sans softly inquired, drawing his attention away from Papyrus’s magic. “Simple things that will hopefully not have you falling into another attack.”

He frowned, focusing on San’s face. The skeleton wasn’t looking at him but that was fine. It was a decent assumption that Sans was watching his brother work, after all. He could see the brilliant green of Papyrus’s healing magic reflecting off of Sans’s face. “Sure.”

“How many years has it been since your mom died?”

“Sans!” Papyrus snapped as Alex flinched at the spike of magic. The magic was quickly quelled.

Alex raised his hand but it only hovered about a foot under where he had intended for it to go before it fell back to the bed. “It’s ok, Pap. It’s a good question. It checks to make sure I know what year I’m in and how many years have passed from a significant event.” Not that he remembered the event specifically but that wasn’t important right now. He focused back on Sans. “16 years.”

“Can you describe what your mom and dad looked like?”

He closed his eyes on that one, feeling the guilt churning in him for one of those mentioned but he was already answering, “No.”

“Who founded the Snowdin Lab?”

“Asgore and Toriel Dreemer.”

“Have you met either of them?”

His eyes opened as he frowned. “Not that I can recall.”

“What did we do for your birthday?”

“This last one? The three of us went to the frozen lake nearby and spent the afternoon and evening ice skating and eating what food we had taken along.”

“And the one before that?”

Alex wondered if the hint of resolve was part of his imagination. “We had a small celebration after you guys cornered me on my smoke break.” His expression softened with the fondness of the memory. “It was the same time you guys called me family.”

“Did we do anything afterward?”

Again he frowned. “Not that I can remember.”

“And how many people work at the lab?”

That stopped Alex short. He tried to remember, tried bringing up the number that he felt like he should know just as readily as his own age, but he couldn’t get a number to appear, let alone any faces. “I…I don’t know. I know people float in and out but I don’t know the current amount. I’m assuming those strangers are part of that number, then?”

“Most of them,” Sans confirmed, his words heavy. He didn’t like the sound of that.

A scream ripped itself from his chest.

Any thoughts of asking Sans to clarify were drowned out by the searing pain exploding from every inch of his body.

The magic that had been seeping into him, the magic he had paid no attention to due to Sans’s inquiries – due to it being Papyrus’s and safe – had reached so deep within him that when Papyrus yanked he felt it everywhere.

But that, that had been fine. The yank had been fine. It had been what Papyrus’s magic was yanking at that scraped at his very soul unwilling to release him and it hurt. It hurt so much.

He couldn’t remember why he was asleep but when he opened his eyes, it was to the faint glow of green magic from Sans’s hand on his forehead. It was more blue than it was the proper shade of green. The look of relief on Sans’s face when he met the skeleton’s gaze was disconcerting. His sluggish brain wouldn’t give him any answers as to why.

“What’s going on?” Alex asked, finding the words coming out in a breathy whisper. Speaking seemed to awake his nerves and faint tremors skittered across his body with each wave of pain. He gritted his teeth against the sensations, willing the pain to go away. It didn’t but he could hope. “Why the healing magic?”

Sans’s expression tightened at that and whatever hope had been there was quickly dashed. The magic on his forehead sputtered out. “You passed out when Papyrus tried to remove every trace of ______,” Sans offered but whatever the last word had been – or words; he was rather certain Sans’s statement hadn’t ended with just one – hadn’t been retained and the thought of that empty word made his brain do a sort of short circuit with fear. A part of him knew if he had Sans repeat himself, he wouldn’t ever hear it and he feared what that meant.

“I don’t,” he choked on the words like he wanted to cry but he pushed forward, spitting out in despair, “I don’t know what that last word was. I…” He found the words stuck in his throat and he forced them out over a lead tongue. “I don’t think I’ll be able to for a while. I think there’s a part of me blocking it out.”

Sans deflated and guilt ate at Alex’s soul. Despite the disappointment he had seen, Sans’s expression remained determined. “Can you name any of the faces that had been at your bedside when you had woken up? Either of the goat monsters, possibly?”

He frowned at that. Woke up when? The only time he remembered waking up was-

A brief memory flashed through his mind of a mass of bodies pressing in at the edge of his bed, shifting and moving in a way that made him uneasy. The shadows behind them that encroached worse than the crowd.

He shook his head vehemently in order to rid himself of the latter part of the memory but it was enough to answer Sans’s question at the same time. Sans closed his sockets, looking a bit in pain, but it was brief. “What do you remember, Alex?”

The words rolled off his tongue as easily as the small bit of memory. “You two approaching, talking to me.” He frowned, trying to dredge up what pieces he still had. It worried him that there wasn’t more he could find. “I think I had asked something because I had pulled you closer but I don’t know what it was.” Alex shifted as best he could so that he could look at Sans easily from where he lay. He felt oddly numb, probably heavy even. “Sans.” He gained the skeleton’s gaze. “I don’t have Dissociative Acute Amnesia, right?”

Sans shook his head. “Just Acute Amnesia. There’s even probably something actually actively suppressing your memories, but it’s not Dissociative. You haven’t given anything that hasn’t happened but what remains seems very selective. It’s the only reason I’m not just calling it amnesia.”

“Will it go away like yours is?” Papyrus asked, startling Alex. Sans seemed to notice his surprise because the skeleton’s hands pressed more into his chest as if to reassure him. When had Papyrus gotten there?

Sans shrugged, giving his brother his attention even as the hand on Alex’s forehead moved into his hair to run through it in a sort of absentminded, repetitive action. “It’s possible but there’s no guarantee. It might be that we deal with the trauma that’s caused his amnesia and it’ll all come back. Or his memories could be permanently lost. We’ll have to work under the assumption that his memories will never come back while also doing what we can to stimulate their return. But with the few fits that have happened, I don’t think it’s wise to push our luck with trying.” Sans’s gaze fell onto him again. “We’ll do slow introductions after we tackle breakfast. We won’t eat in the dining room but we will at least see how passing through it and back treats you.”

“You think I’ll have an adverse reaction?” Alex clarified.

Sans shrugged again. “Anything’s possible at this point. Memory’s a tricky thing and if it’s being suppressed by trauma, there’s a high possibility of some reaction to the stimuli. If nothing else, you certainly hadn’t seemed happy with so many people at your bedside.”

A yawn broke through, stretching Alex’s jaw and bringing with it exhaustion. He caught Sans’s gaze flicking to the side. The stout skeleton offered, “It’s getting late. Why don’t we all get some sleep and keep talking after breakfast?”

Alex nodded. Sans shifted which quickly informed Alex that he was partially on the other’s lap. Papyrus moved forward and, between the two skeletons, Alex was back in bed tucked in up to his chin. The prospect of sleep was tantalizing. He hoped it came soon.

The pair stepped away but Papyrus lingered. “Do you want either of us to stay here?”

Alex shook his head, a soft smile gracing his face. “There’s no point in keeping either of you from a good night’s rest. Besides, nothing can hurt me here. I’m safe and you two aren’t that far away.”

The brothers shared a glance but it was Sans who made the final decision. “Alright. Holler if you need anything.”

The brothers were quick with the lights but with each light that went out, the prospect of sleep seemed to get farther and farther away. He wanted to call out, to tell them to turn a light back on – turn all of them back on – but it felt like there was something in his throat and he couldn’t get the words out. He tried to ignore the looming shadows and what they hid.

Sans paused in the doorway, looking at him. The two soft lights of Sans’s pupils were bright on the skeleton’s backlit face. “Sleep well, Alex.”

“You too, Sans,” tumbled out. The words weren’t what he wanted to scream.

The door clicked shut and it was all he could do to try and sleep. He hadn’t been lying. He knew he was safe. If anything tried to come after him, it would have to get through the entire lab before it could reach him. While possible, it wouldn’t leave him defenseless.

But there was a part of him – a part of him that was growing larger and larger as the seconds ticked by – that knew of something that could be in the dark already.

Not something.

Someone.

Alex surged upright. Every muscle in his torso screamed but the adrenaline and fear were far greater. He shoved forward, first hitting the nightstand light; it wasn’t enough. The shadows skittered back and away only to creep back in when the light settled on a brightness. He got to his feet, stumbling over legs that wouldn’t move quick enough. He turned on every light he had in that room until every nook and cranny was illuminated.

It wasn’t enough!

Sans listened to the latch click into place. It was more difficult to let go of the handle and walk away than he had anticipated. He wasn’t even sure how Papyrus had managed to walk so far away without turning around and marching right back into Alex’s room. Stiffly, he turned and shuffled over to his brother's side. Papyrus fell into step as Sans kept moving towards the kitchen. If he stopped now, he would end up back in Alex’s room whether the human wanted him there or not.

“I don’t like this,” Papyrus finally voiced when the kitchen came into view.

Sans gave a humorless chuckle. “I don’t either, Pap, but there’s nothing we can do. He said he was fine and going against his desires right now may do more harm than good, despite what we may believe.” His expression tightened as he recoiled from his next words. “Let’s get through this first. Then tomorrow.”

They turned the corner into the dining room, cutting off any response Papyrus may have had if there had even been one. Everyone who had been in Alex’s room was milling about, some sitting, some standing, and all of them talking. It took a moment for everyone to realize they had arrived but they didn’t quiet fully till he sank into a seat. He was too bone tired to stay standing despite the agitation from leaving Alex alone skittering through his soul like electricity. Papyrus stood behind his right shoulder, radiating the same agitation.

He cut straight to the point. “I believe Alex has Acute Amnesia.” There was an uproar that was nothing more than noise to him. He was all for letting them shout themselves down but it was Asgore’s heavy voice cutting through that silenced them all. Sans assumed the boss monster was asking for an explanation because he hadn’t retained a single word the goat monster said. Stars above he was tired. “He didn’t recognize anyone in the room beyond Papyrus and me, and the things he does remember pertain to either himself, alone, or include me and Papyrus. It is not what I have and may not behave in the same way. He could regain his memories over time or they could be lost forever. The good news is he hasn’t lost any knowledge that would hinder any project he was working on, so there’s that.”

“You’re joking, right?” Undyne challenged.

Toriel cut in on the tail of her words. “You cannot expect him to work after all that he has been through, Sans.”

Sans gave them both a tired look. “As much as I would love to give Alex the chance to take time and recover, we all know he would be back at work of his own volition in less than a week without anyone’s supervision. At least this way I can make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

He was grateful that his words stalled there.

“You are not useless, Sans,” Papyrus muttered behind him reading into the words he left unsaid far too clearly.

Sans sighed. “Regardless of the circumstances,” he spoke towards the group, “I still don’t have enough memories back to continue working on anything alone and, unfortunately, the only other one that has any idea of what I was doing is Alex.”

“S-so what now?” Alphys voices softly.

“We tread carefully. All of you, every person in this lab, and the Underground itself are complete strangers to him now. He may remember you over time, he might not.” He hesitated, suddenly unsure about how much information he wanted to share. “He suffered a severe panic attack while we were seeing how bad his memory loss was.” There were a few gasps but Sans ignored them. “And it was so bad that it caused a loss of short term memory.” He recoiled from their confused expressions. “He didn’t remember the panic attack, the trigger, nor the very bad paroxysmal coughing fit that followed after. It’s why I don’t want him having another panic attack. Whatever Gaster did to him has compromised his body even more and I’m concerned doing reintroductions too quickly could trigger more attacks which will most likely lead directly into fits and more memory loss. There’s also no telling what too many too close together could do to him.”

There was a low muttering through the group and Sans realized that a good number of those present had just learned a portion of Alex’s medical condition. There wasn’t anything he could do about it now as Asgore asked, “Do you know what the subject of the panic attack had been?”

Sans shook his head. “The only thing we know is that it was tied directly to the memory of Gaster’s lab. Whatever happened in there is triggerable by just having him try and recollect the rescue effort. If it changes, though, I’ll let you know.”

Asgore frowned but said no more.

“So here’s the plan for tomorrow,” Sans offered, starting to lose the fight against the exhaustion dragging at his bones. “Papyrus will walk with Alex through the main dining space to the kitchen during breakfast time, or close in there to. I’ll be with Toriel and only with Toriel in the kitchen so that he can meet her first.” He looked to Toriel. “I want to properly introduce you two so that he can start asking you for things should we be unavailable for whatever reason.”

Toriel nodded, a determined look on her face even as her arms tightened around Flowey’s pot.

“As they are passing through, no one is to interact with Alex and Papyrus beyond saying good morning,” Sans directed to everyone else. “If you say good morning to Alex, do not use his name or any nickname you may have used on him. That goes for habitual nicknames used on the collective, too.” There was some griping about that. Sans let them have their grumbling. “After that, Pap and I will eat with Alex in his room so that he can process all of it and come down from any overstimulation that may happen. Depending on how it goes, we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

There was a round of nodding and verbal affirmations.

“Good,” he all but sighed. Papyrus gripped the back of his chair as he stood. “Pap and I are going to go to bed. If you have questions, comments, or concerns, write them down so you don’t forget. I’ll deal with them in the morning.”

There was a chorus of good nights and sleep wells as the brothers left but Sans didn’t send any back. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the start of a headache in the middle of his skull.

“Well that went surprisingly well,” he commented, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Hopefully tomorrow goes just as well,” Papyrus responded offhandedly.

He glanced at his brother but didn’t say anything. There was a part of him that hoped the same. A larger part wasn’t expecting their luck to hold out that long.
Papyrus was up and going far too early in the morning, not that he had been sleeping properly to begin with. Unable to remain in his room for more than the half hour it took for him to admit defeat and get dressed, he closed his bedroom door and started to wander the halls in the hopes that the late night stroll would help him sleep.

He was surprised to find he had forgotten how much the lab didn’t sleep. The hall lights were dim but he passed one guard on his walk and could hear the distinct sound of laughter echoing down the hall from some lab still occupied by its scientists. He gave the guard a nod, the other returning the gesture in kind with a bit more formality than he thought necessary.

He paused at his brother’s door, listening to the low snores coming from within. Whatever churned his soul keeping him from sleeping seemed to be partially soothed by the sound. As long as it seemed Sans was getting some much needed rest, he could get through a sleepless night just fine.

The wall beside Sans’s door held his weight when he leaned back against it. Oh how he wished he could be asleep like Sans was now, instead of tormented by what had happened over the last who knew how long. Despite knowing the proper amount of time that had passed, he was not convinced they hadn’t lost more time.

The things Gaster had done still haunted him, still gnawed at his very consciousness that it caused sleep to evade him thoroughly for the last two nights. It was all he could do to get a few hours of sleep before he was wide awake again. Perhaps that was just the conditioning left over by Gaster’s work. Perhaps he wasn’t convinced they had been rescued.

He rubbed at his face only to let his head rest against the appendage, propped against a knee. Jealousy churned in his soul at the thought of Sans having no problem sleeping. Guilt and self loathing were quick to rid him of it. He knew it wasn’t true. Sans sleeping was a good thing, even if it was exhaustion driven. Despite how powerful Sans was magically, his body was still as frail as ever, if not more so due to both the coma and Gaster’s toying. No amount of teasing and complaining about Sans napping all the time erased how aware he was that Sans was a workaholic by nature and would push himself to his limits till his body told him ‘enough’. This – the sound of Sans’s deep snores rolling softly from behind the closed door – was a blessing that Papyrus was not about to deny. If Sans could manage to sleep through his demons, Papyrus could manage to not let his take over.

It was hard, though. Shifting so that his back was flush with the wall, he looked around. This particular hallway was presently deserted, the low lights even dimmer with no one walking through. Even his slight movements weren’t going to trigger the motion detectors to increase the lighting, magical or otherwise.

His soul manifested before his chest with a soft tug of magic. A part of him was too used to seeing a blue – regardless of the hue – soul appearing that he recoiled from the orange one that appeared. Ugly flittered through that part of him and he dismissed it vehemently. As much as he didn’t like it and what it represented in him, he was not about to bash the bravery trait he was now in possession of.

His fingers curled carefully around the soul with barely a breath between bone and magic. He wondered if having the new trait meant he was braver now or if he now simply housed more bravery than patience or integrity.

He gripped the soul probably harsher than he needed to and a jolt shot down his spine from the sensation. He couldn’t help it. After everything he had gone through, to change from integrity to patience and now this? It felt like everything he had gone through was for not. Everything he had done was utterly useless.

The magic in his hand vanished as the full weight of his soul returned to his ribcage. His hand collapsed into a fist and he squeezed it tight before resting his head against it, propped up by a knee.

“Pap?”

He brought his head up, unsure if he had fallen asleep there next to Sans’s door or had simply been zoning out for the entire time. He got to his feet, too tired to make it quick, as Sans’s hands hovered close.

“You alright, bro? You seemed to be pretty out of it.”

Sans wasn’t wrong. The hallway wasn’t a busy thoroughfare to begin with because of it housing the private quarters but scientists never kept good hours to begin with and he could see a small number milling to and from their labs. He sighed and offered what he could even if he didn’t believe the words fully himself. “It would seem my inability to get more rest caught up with me. I had not intended to nap next to your door.”

The expression that crossed Sans’s face left an odd urge to say something on the back of Papyrus’s tongue. It didn’t go away when Sans smiled at him. “Taking a leaf out of my book, bro?”

Papyrus huffed a laugh as he fell into step beside Sans. It wasn’t hard to figure out where they were going. “Please. Any soldier should be able to rest wherever they get a chance to stop.”

The laugh that escaped his brother did nothing to mask the concern Papyrus could still see. It pulled on his soul and it was all he could do to not try and urge Sans to not worry. It would only make it worse.

They came to a stop before Alex’s door and, for a moment, Papyrus thought Sans would open it. The stout skeleton didn’t but stared at it instead, asking, “You’ve got him, then?”

Papyrus rested a heavy hand on Sans’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Sans nodded but it took a moment longer before he stepped out from under Papyrus’s touch and disappeared. Papyrus did not miss the fact that Sans had not torn his gaze from the door in the process.

The first thing he noticed was how bright it was in the room. Bewildered, his gaze went to Alex’s bed searching for the human in hopes of finding him awake and ok.

He wasn’t there.

With every instinct suddenly screaming at him that something was horribly wrong, his gaze snapped around the room looking for any sign that there had been an intruder. Maybe it was a sound or maybe it was instinct, but his gaze moved to the corner opposite the door and locked onto Alex huddled on the floor pressed as close to the wall as he could get.

He found Alex’s name escaping him in a shout – or was it a cry – as he cleared the distance between them in an instant. He hesitated only for the briefest of moments before he wrapped his hands around the other’s shoulders, feeling the tremors he could very clearly see as he called for Alex again.

Alex jerked back at his name, blinking at him. Dark bags clung to the underside of those large eyes that seemed larger behind the man’s glasses. Had he been there all night?

“Pap?” Alex croaked, blinking some more. A shaking hand reached out and clung to Papyrus’s shirt. It seemed to shake worse there. “What are you doing here?”

Papyrus pulled him into his chest, wrapping his arms around the thin frame only after Alex had settled into him. “It’s morning,” he offered hoarsely. “Why didn’t you come and get one of us?”

Alex gave a breathy laugh and Papyrus couldn’t fathom where he found humor in all of this. “Sorry. I must have gotten stuck there.” A breathy chuckle bubbled up through his words briefly. “Funny. I don’t even remember making it to the floor.”

Papyrus’s grip around him tightened. He hoped the edges of hysteria were just his imagination. “Let’s get you back in bed. I’ll let Sans’s know and–”

“No!” The shout startled him and his gaze quickly returned to Alex’s face. He could see Alex’s own surprise at the shout through the fear clearly written across that exhausted face and his arms tightened around the human briefly. Alex sent him a smile but it didn’t erase the exhaustion, nor the fear. “No, I’m fine. I still want to go through with Sans’s plan.”

“But–” Papyrus tried to protest but there was no strength behind it and Alex was already extracting himself from Papyrus’s hold.

“Besides, I want to see if anything’s changed.” Alex settled on his own two feet, offering Papyrus a hand when he was steady. “It’s not like anything can get to me while you’re here. You’re part of the Royal Guard, after all.”

Papyrus frowned but took the offered hand. He stood without putting any weight on Alex. Either the other hadn’t noticed or didn’t care because the smile had remained on Alex’s face and the other even took the lead to the door.

That lead lasted all of the trip through the door. Out in the hallway, Alex’s steps came to a halt. Papyrus half assumed it was because he was waiting for him to close the door but when Papyrus not only heard but felt the door click shut, Alex didn’t move till he did.

“Did you sleep well?” Alex asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“Unfortunately no,” Papyrus responded, concern rolling through him at the quake in Alex's words. “Though that is nothing new, considering what Sans and I went through recently.”

Alex hummed but offered nothing more.

A curious glance at the other was enough for Papyrus’s speculations about the style of response to be wrong. Confusion had filled that exhausted face and spoke of things that sent up every red flag he had. This was a bad idea and he knew it but Alex kept walking and that confusion slowly bled into apprehension. He started to wonder if fear was filling the other’s throat and weighting down his tongue as the silence thickened between them.

With each passing minute and every person they passed, Alex got closer and closer till their arms were brushing. They stayed that distance for most of the remaining trip. It only changed when the first sounds of the dining room reached them; Alex took a solid step closer. Instinct drove him to raise his arm out of the human’s way and he quickly found Alex flush against his side. He should have turned them around long before they had gotten there and knew it was too late now with the dining hall in sight. Alex would fight him and Papyrus was positive that would only escalate things.

Alex shot him an apologetic smile, muttering, “Sorry.”

There was a shift from Alex like he was fighting the urge to stay pressed up against Papyrus but couldn’t win. Papyrus didn’t give him an option; he placed his hand on Alex’s other shoulder and gave the other a soft squeeze, effectively pinning the human to his side. The only good thing about it was that it would put Papyrus between Alex and those in the dining room on their way to the kitchen. “There’s no reason to apologize, Alex. You’re doing just fine.”

The smile he received looked strained. It did nothing to distract him from the white knuckle grip Alex had of the fabric over his heart.

He should have turned them around.

The first step into the dining room was a cautious one and the majority of his focus was on Alex waiting for some sort of reaction. But when none came, when he simply kept step with Papyrus, Papyrus kept moving.

But sometimes triggers happen when least expected and not always with a clear cause. The only warning Papyrus got was Alex fisting the back of his shirt before the human froze completely, jerking him to a stop.

Papyrus turned, floundering for the briefest of moments as he fought the urge to leave Alex and get Sans. It was an easy urge to fight as he placed himself between Alex and the rest of the room. The noise of the room seemed to fluctuate but he couldn’t give it enough attention to understand why or how.

“Alex,” he tried softly, his hands going to Alex’s shoulders, his neck, his face. “Come on, Alex. It’s ok. I’m right here.”

The urge to wash his magic over Alex was far harder to fight and he nearly broke under it - until he felt someone undoing Alex’s hold from his shirt.

That urge was suddenly the need to protect and the magic surged backwards towards whoever was there. His brother’s magic was strong and unrelenting, clashing with his and containing it so easily, Papyrus felt his own magic cower under the enormous might of his brother’s magic.

“What happened?” Sans carefully demanded with a steady voice. Papyrus wasn’t sure if the lack of verbal reaction to his magical response upon Sans’s arrival was a good thing or a bad one.

Papyrus shook his head. “I didn’t see but he needs to be taken out of here.”

Sans nodded. “I’ve got him. I’ll take him back to his room while you–”

Alex jerked back, a strangled noise escaping him, and the brothers moved forward as the human tried to retreat. Papyrus’s hands found Alex’s hair as Sans’s found Alex’s hands, boney fingers tangling with flesh ones to keep Alex from grabbing at his chest again.

“My room,” Sans rushed, tugging on Alex’s hands. “We’ll go to my room.” He shot Papyrus a gaze drowning in the same toxic blend of emotions he was trying not to drown in. “We’ll see you there.”

Papyrus nodded, removing his touch from Alex’s head. “I’ll bring food.”

They were gone before he had finished the last word, leaving him feeling lost and useless. With a bitterness towards himself more than anything else settling over his soul, he started for the kitchen.

Sans grunted against the sensation of using a shortcut as his legs gave out from under him. Alex went down far harder than he did and it was everything he could do to keep the human from doing any more damage.

The trip had not been kind to Alex and Sans almost regretted not trying to get Alex to walk down the hallway back to his room. Almost.

Alex started coughing and choking as his lungs refused to take in the air properly, his heart probably not handling the stress any better. Sans grabbed at Alex and pulled, getting the human up enough to get under him. Alex spasmed around him and it was all he could do to not use magic again.

He half guided, half dragged Alex to his bed where he got the human to sit. The coughing fit spattered out and ended but the panic didn’t go away. Sans grabbed at Alex again and from one moment to the next, Sans had Alex on his side, head resting on a pillow on Sans’s lap. He buried a hand into Alex’s hair as the other rubbed circles into Alex’s back with words tumbling from his chest.

He wasn’t really thinking of what he was saying because if he thought too hard, he was certain he would say the wrong thing. It was working, though, whatever it was he was saying. The tremors under his hands were calming and the tension eased from the other’s form till he suddenly realized Alex was asleep.

His words sputtered out till silence rang in the room but Alex remained asleep. Sans leaned his head back against the wall, grateful he had had the forethought to give himself something to lean against.

A soft tapping woke him from the doze he had ended up in. He opened a socket, not caring to exert more energy than that. He found Papyrus standing in the doorway, tray in one hand, doorknob in the other. He sat upright, focusing on Papyrus as the other entered fully, asking, “How is he?”

“Asleep, from what I can tell,” Sans offered in the same soft voice. “Whatever had triggered him had been bad. I don’t think we can try that again and get him anywhere near the dining room before he’s incapacitated.”

The look that crossed Papyrus’s face matched the emotions he was feeling but he didn’t pay it any mind as his attention went to the door. It had remained open but not unoccupied.

Toriel and Undyne were hovering there, both looking like they wanted to help without not knowing how. He focused on Undyne. “Thank you for getting me. I’m glad we didn't have to discover what would have happened had you not.”

Undyne gave him a sharp nod. “It’s my job to protect the people of the Underground, and, as stubborn as he may be, he’s still one of my responsibilities.” Her fins folded down partially. “I just wish there was something more I could do. I hate feeling so useless.”

Sans shook his head. “You’re not useless, Undyne. Far from it.”

“We’ll spar later,” Papyrus cut in, gaining her attention. The lankier skeleton grinned at her. “You’ll see how far from useless you are.”

Undyne snorted. “Not sure how whooping your ass is proof of my merit.”

“It will.”

From the expression on her face, it looked like she believed him. She gave him a sharp nod, offering in turn, “Looking forward to it, then.”

“Thank you as well, Tori,” Sans voiced.

She smiled at him. “Glad I could help.”

Toriel closed the door as the pair left. The silence that fell was only broken by Papyrus messing with the dishes and Alex’s soft breathing. Sans watched his brother, fingers running through Alex’s hair. “Any idea what triggered him?”

Papyrus shook his head. “I had been too focused on him to pay any attention to what was around us.” There was a bitterness to his words that Sans wanted to get rid of but his brother kept talking. “Whatever it had been, it made him freeze. Wasn’t anything like what we’ve dealt with up to this point.”

Sans looked down at the sleeping human. “Do you know if he slept last night?”

The sound of the dishes stopped abruptly and Sans looked up to find Papyrus staring at the dishes in his hand. It took a moment but the other met his gaze, answering, “He hadn’t. All the lights were on when I arrived and he was in a corner, frozen in what I’m assuming was terror. He didn’t even see me when I was right in front of him till I...woke him up.”

Sans sucked in a breath at that, a hiss escaping him as he did so. “Shit, Pap. We shouldn’t have done this. You should have just sent word to me instead of bringing him to the dining room.”

Papyrus shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. “I had wanted to turn around but he was determined to see it through. It was either going with him and making sure he had support or fighting with him about it and possibly ruining everything.”

“Stubborn human,” Sans ground out.

“As stubborn as his partner, if memory serves right.”

Sans blinked before looking up at Papyrus. As fond as the statement had been, the look he received was almost sad. Something dark and heavy coiled in his gut because of it. “We have to do something, Pap.”

“I agree but there isn’t much we can do right now except let him rest. But first,” Papyrus turned back to the food and picked up a shallow bowl before crossing to the bed. Papyrus’s touch was just as soft as his words. “Alex, food’s here.”

Alex jerked awake but it didn’t seem they had woken him from a bad dream. Instead, the human smiled at Papyrus, sitting with some difficulty. Sans reached out and helped the human sit up proper, feeling the tremors that flickered over Alex’s muscles under his fingers. Even the human’s face was tight with exhaustion but his hands were steady as he offered to take the bowl. “Smells good.”

Papyrus gave a mischievous grin. “I would hope so.” His brother’s hands didn’t leave the bowl till he was certain that Alex had a good hold on it. “I did put it together, after all.”

Alex brought it to his lap, smiling again up at Papyrus. “Everything you put together is great.”

Sans snorted as Papyrus straightened and sent a glare lacking any heat at Alex. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now eat.”

There was some chatting here and there but, overall, the meal was a quiet – and quick - affair. Alex fell asleep halfway through. Despite their urgings throughout the meal, Alex had eaten far less than Sans would have liked. He shared a concerned look with Papyrus as they cleaned up. Sans tucked his blankets in around Alex, commenting softly, “We can’t let him sleep alone again.”

“I doubt he will give us much of a choice.”

Sans wasn’t sure how Papyrus meant those words to be taken but he agreed with the two meanings that came to mind.

Silence settled over them but it wasn’t bad. Sans watched Alex’s chest rise and fall, mind wandering slowly from topic to topic. It wasn’t long till it settled. “I’m not sure he’s going to be able to stay here.”

For a moment, he thought that maybe Papyrus hadn’t heard him. But the silence between them only lasted for a minute at most.

“Is there truly no hope for him here?”

Sans leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his face. “I wish I could say that I had high hopes that he would get better, that today was just a fluke, but there’s a part of me that can’t be wistfully optimistic. We have to prepare for the worst and, right now, that’s Alex getting worse staying here.”

“So then where else could we take him? Our house isn’t overly ideal, is it?”

Sans shrugged. “I have a lab there he and I can utilize and it won’t have the number of people wandering about the halls like there is here. Would let you go to work without having to fret about us and would provide a better environment to get used to others in anyway.” He offered a tired smile. “I’m sure Grillby would be glad to see us again.”

Papyrus blinked. “We have been away for quite some time, haven’t we?”

“Close to four months at this point, if I’m doing the math right. Wonder what’s changed?”

Papyrus offered him a soft smile. “Knowing our little town, probably nothing more than the residents at the inn and what Grillby’s special is.”

“Probably.”

Papyrus rose to his feet. “So do we have a new plan, then?”

Sans settled more into his chair. “We’ll let him sleep as long as he will sleep and then we’ll relocate to your room. I’m unfortunately not the best of bunkmates and I’m still waiting for a bad night to hit me. From there, whatever he feels up to. Probably some sort of work, maybe he’ll be up for a round of cards. Or food. He may be hungry when he wakes.”

“Then you will move him to my room and I will get food before meeting you both there.” The tray shifted precariously in his hands as he moved it about but nothing fell off. “And tomorrow?”

Sans shrugged. “We’ll try introductions again, but we’ll go about it differently. See how he reacts to Toriel and then maybe Undyne. Beyond that? I don’t know. Flowey? Alphys? We could probably try Frisk and see how he reacts to a complete stranger.”

“Do you want me to ask Frisk if they know Alex first?”

“Probably best since we can’t ask Alex. If they have some sort of history, we could always try one of Undyne’s people stationed in New Home, or Grillby, even. It's been long enough that even if they had met in passing, I doubt there would be anything negative in their interactions to trigger.”

“I will pass on the plan. See you both in my rooms whenever he wakes.”

Sans nodded, leaving the conversation at that.

When Alex woke, it woke Sans from a doze. He had dozed hard enough to have bizarre dreams so there wasn’t any hard feelings towards the awkward wakeup. Alex looked like he could do with another twelve hours of sleep with how he blearily blinked at the room around him, blankets that had once been so nice and neatly tucked in around him pooling in his lap.

“Whose room we in?” Alex asked groggily.

“Mine,” he offered. “Wanted to take you to Pap’s but I couldn’t focus well enough.”

Alex frowned at him and for a fleeting moment, he wasn’t even sure if Alex even knew what had happened to him.

“Why?”

He closed his sockets against that. “You froze in the dining room from another panic attack. You reacted negatively at the mention of your room, thus my room.”

Silence settled over them but it wasn’t enough for him to look quite yet.

“And why you couldn’t focus.” He opened his sockets, meeting Alex’s gaze. “You said you had originally wanted to take me to Papyrus’s room?”

Sans nodded. “I’m not a good bunkmate even before my coma, let alone the events that led to your own amnesia. Pap will be far more consistent in his hours and his room will remain guest friendly.” He shrugged. “I’m not the neatest of monsters and I’m honestly surprised we can even walk through my room right now.”

Alex gave a faint chuckle at that, drawing his gaze again. “Alex.” The human looked at him, looking just as weary as Sans felt. He wondered if it was more than just a physical exhaustion. “You can protest all you want but we’re going to have you sleep with Pap till things stop triggering you so badly. It’ll get frustrating, what with being forced to have a bunkmate, but I’m hoping it’ll help your recover by allowing you to get some actual sleep. Depending on how tomorrow goes, we’ll be relocating to Pap’s and I’s house.”

“Too much here, huh?” Alex asked with a sad little grin.

Sans returned it. “Unfortunately. Good news is the house has a lab so we won’t have an issue continuing some of our work.”

“Good.”

With nothing more to talk about - as far as he could recall - Sans stood up, Alex’s eyes on him the entire time. “Whelp, Pap should be at his room by now. Care to go for a walk?”

Alex pushed at the covers. “I may not be overly steady.”

Sans wrapped his hand around Alex’s arm as the human started to stand, his other going to Alex’s chest to help keep him upright. “That’s why I’m here.” Alex leaned into the assist. Sans could feel the tremors from the effort it was taking for Alex to stay standing. “Just take it slow. I’ll follow your pace and take your weight so just focus on getting to Pap’s room.”

“Ok.”

The walk was slow. The tremors running through Alex’s body worsened the farther they went. By the time they made it to Papyrus’s room, Sans was certain he was the reason why Alex was even upright right now. They arrived in time to hear the clatter of dishes on the tray Papyrus was placing on the nightstand. Papyrus didn’t seem overly surprised to see them when he turned around but Sans wasn’t sure if that was because he had known they had been approaching or if it was something else. “Just in time,” Papyrus spoke, grinning. “The food is still nice and hot.”

“What is it?” Alex asked eagerly as Sans helped him sit on Papyrus’s bed. It was hard to tell if it was a genuine interest or if Alex was doing it for their sake. With how little Alex had eaten earlier, he was pretty sure it was genuine.

Papyrus looked pleased with the response and started talking, Alex holding his own in the lanky skeleton’s conversation. Sans, for his part, settled into a chair with a sigh. Despite the nap he had gotten, he was bone tired and there was still so much to do. He took the offered food and ate it, content to just watch.

Alex managed to eat his entire share before passing out again. Sans gathered the used dishes realizing he had eaten far less than his brother and Alex. He knew there was no point trying to hide it from Papyrus; the other skeleton would have already noticed but he still tried to hide it under the other dishes. Unease at his own actions made him talkative and he asked softly, “So what did Frisk say?”

“They have not interacted with Alex as far as they recall but they are uneasy about meeting him alone,” Papyrus informed him as the lanky skeleton tucked Alex in. Standing straight, he looked at Sans. “I offered them if Alex doesn’t negatively react to Toriel, they can meet Alex while she is here. They seemed to be quite happy with that idea, if not a bit hesitant still.”

Sans nodded. “Then we’ll do Toriel first. Probably after breakfast.” A yawn cut in, making his jaw ache afterwards.

Papyrus put a heavy hand on his shoulder but he welcomed the touch. “Go get some sleep, Sans. I have him.”

Sans smiled up at his brother, offering unnecessarily, “Call if you need anything.”

Whatever other well wishes his brother sent after him were left behind with used magic.
Morning came far too soon but it came after decent enough dreams so he couldn’t really complain. Alex and Papyrus were already up when he arrived laden with a breakfast tray.

“Guess who caught me in the hallway?” he announced as he closed the door.

Papyrus stood up. “It would seem Toriel did. I had asked her to put something together for me if she didn’t mind when I had gone down a few hours ago.”

Sans had to glance at the clock to make sure his math was right. “Couldn’t sleep again, bro?” he asked around the clatter of dishes as he put the tray down.

Papyrus crossed to his side, taking over the dispersal of the meal. “I got enough. That’s all that matters.”

Sans took what he was handed not surprised to see Alex’s portion was being passed to him as well. He crossed to the human and Alex grinned at him. He even looked better as he happily informed Sans, “I slept through the night with some rather strange dreams but I’d happily take those any day.”

Sans chuckled as he sat down. “I’m sure.”

Their chatter ebbed and flowed from topic to topic until the only one left eating was Alex. Sans knew the human’s body had to be starving but whatever appetite Alex had was not lasting through the meal. His brother was currently distracting Alex enough that the human was still eating but it wouldn’t last long.

“So,” he broached carefully. “You still up to meeting Toriel?”

Alex closed his mouth around his spoon, looking at Sans. There was a pause as Alex finished off the bite before answering, “We going anywhere to meet with her or is she coming here?”

“She’ll come here. So far this has been a safe enough space for you and we run less of a risk of triggering you here than we do taking you through the labs.”

Alex nodded, putting his bowl aside. It wasn’t empty but it was close enough. Papyrus stood and picked it up. “What time?”

“Eh, whenever your ready, honestly. I’m sure the kiddo’s up now too so we’ll introduce you to Frisk if you don’t react negatively to Toriel’s presence.” His sockets narrowed. “I’m….not sure if Flowey’s being brought along or not.” He looked to Papyrus. “Did you check?”

“No, though from what we’ve been told, Flowey should be just fine. He had spent quite some time with Alex so there is very little chance that the little monster will do any harm.”

Sans tipped his head. “Fair enough.” He looked to Alex. “You tell us when you need to stop. We won’t be able to do much if you don’t speak up.”

A soft smile curled Alex’s lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know.”

Papyrus left with the dishes leaving Sans and Alex to talk about work. His initial statement of Alex’s knowledge around the work they had been doing was untouched held true as Alex led their conversation, testing the boundaries of both of their shattered memories.

A few knocks against the door announced Papyrus’s return and he wasn’t alone. Sans smiled at Toriel. He heard Flowey’s harsh whispers from somewhere out of sight and he assumed the kid was carrying the potted monster.

Papyrus and her were talking about something, their tone light and full of laughter. Sans was happy to see the joyous expression on his brother’s face.

Sans turned to speak to Alex, that joy that had been part of his brother’s disposition contagious and leaving him feeling a bit lighter. That bit of joy that had seeped into him was quickly snuffed out by the look on Alex’s face.

His hand reached out before he could thing against it and he wrapped his hand around Alex’s, trying to get his fingers between Alex’s fist and the fabric over his heart. Alex’s hand convulsed but Sans managed to get his hand in Alex’s. “Hey,” he softly called. Alex’s wide, fearful gaze snapped to him. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Toriel is the safest monster to start with, Alex,” Papyrus assured over Sans’s shoulder, far closer than the last place Sans had seen him. Alex’s gaze snapped to the other skeleton. “She will never do you harm.”

“Beyond maybe your pride for the sake of your health,” Sans tried teasing. Alex’s gaze flickered back to him before going beyond the both of them towards the doorway. His smile fell. “Alex.” He gained that gaze again and his soul hurt to see the edges of terror on that face. “Do you want me to send her off or do you want to speak with her for a little bit?”

Alex’s gaze drifted back towards the door. The grip on his hand had not lessened but Sans could see some of the tension leaving the human’s shoulders. “I...I can talk to her.” The grip on his hand tightened. “But you guys have to stay.”

He reached out with his free hand and caught sight of Papyrus reaching out from the corner of his eye. Both of them touched Alex, Sans’s free hand going to Alex’s cheek, Papyrus’s right going to Alex’s hair while his left caught Alex’s other hand.

“We’re not going anywhere,” he reassured Alex, his words heavy with their sincerity.

“Wouldn’t even dream of it,” Papyrus added.

It took a moment, a breath, before Alex gave a final nod. Papyrus moved first but it seemed Alex didn’t understand why the lanky skeleton was moving. Sans suppressed the wince from Alex’s suddenly painful grip as the human visibibly seemed to panic. His soul hurt worse than his hand, though, seeing the terror there. Papyrus moved and sat heavily on the bed beside Alex as close to the human as physically possible.

Sans clambered onto the bed as well and squished Alex between him and his brother. Alex leaned into him, small tremors still quaking through the human’s body. He intertwined their fingers and gained a squeeze for his efforts.

He looked to the door. Toriel was standing just inside the now closed door. It was hard to tell what she was actually feeling but there was unconditional love in that complex expression of hers. He nodded to her.

“May I come closer, Alex?”

The door clicked shut behind him, the weight of the handle strangely heavy in his hand. He let it go, looking to Toriel. Frisk was beside her, Flowey’s pot in one arm while the kid held onto Toriel’s skirt with the other. She had a hand on Frisk’s head but her attention was on him.

“He’s asleep,” he offered, unsure if that was even her question.

“He cannot stay here, Sans,” she informed him, her voice hard but edged in a strange sadness. “If he had that hard of a time with me, I fear the damage of meeting some of the more careless.”

Sans let out a heavy sigh. “We’ll move him to our house when he wakes up and eats something. I had hoped he would be able to weather some of it but it seems I’ve misjudged the amount of damage Gaster did.”

He looked up when her hand rested on his shoulder. Despite the size and probably being just as heavy as Asgore’s, her touch was solid but carefully light in an unconscious sort of way. It made his soul heavy at the implication. “Stay in contact. Your place is not far from the Lab and I would hate for this to do you and your brother any harm.”

Sans smiled gently at her. “Pap and I’ll be fine. We won’t be under house arrest and we most certainly won’t be doing that with Alex. I’m hoping that when he’s physically stronger in a few days we’ll be able to go on a walk around our little town.”

Toriel nodded, stepping back. “Just let us know what you need before you leave.”

“Of course, Tori. Thank you.”

The ice on the door crunched and fell away when Papyrus put his weight behind forcing the door open. Sans chuckled from where he stood supporting Alex. The human was holding his own weight rather well but that was probably more due to the fact that Papyrus had carried Alex the whole way on his back than anything else.

Alex’s voice shared Sans’s amusement as he asked, “Does it ice over like that often?”

“No,” Papyrus grumbled before Sans could answer. The skeleton glared daggers at the now open door. “It would seem I neglected making sure our home was tended to during my absence.”

“Hey, as long as a pipe hasn’t burst, a little ice won’t hurt us,” Sans spoke up, starting for the open door.

“Fair enough.” Papyrus kicked off his snow-covered boots leaving them to thaw on the tiled entryway. “Kick off as much snow as you can and settle in. I’ll see about getting the heat going.”

A strange sensation settled into Sans’s bones as he crossed the threshold. The home looked much like how he remembered it, but there were distinct differences that put him on edge. While the stairs were still on the far wall, there was a door on the other side of the TV from the kitchen’s doorless door frame. The kitchen held a few differences at first glance but it was the door on the left that was throwing him for a loop. Barely paying any attention to how he was kicking his own snowy boots off, Sans quickly crossed to the door and tried the handle.

It was unlocked.

He stared at the space beyond, not daring to step further in case it suddenly vanished. He heard Alex shuffle up to his side.

“Different from what you remember?” Alex asked softly.

“Completely,” he confessed. “The lab had been in the basement only accessed from the back. And it had looked nothing like this.”

Alex stepped past him, entering the room and solidifying it for Sans. He still didn’t dare enter. Alex wandered the edge of the room, looking at the cluttered surfaces, the things pinned to the walls, glancing in a cabinet here and there, and even looking out both windows.

He had forgotten that strange sensation of duality he had only ever experienced outside of reality. To have it now was disconcerting. But the room was right despite his lack of memory. The left and right walls were lined with counters, cabinets above and below them. There was a sizable table in the middle of the room on wheels ladent with a lot of things and the mess under it suggested it hadn’t moved in quite some time. The far wall holding one of two windows - the second was center on the left wall between the counter and hanging cabinets - was covered with notes and articles pinned and taped to it leaving the window clear to be open and let in the light from outside.

It was nothing like the sublevel lab he remembered from his dream and couldn’t even remember this one but it was right. There was a part of his soul that just knew this was as he had left it.

Alex picked up a random piece of paper. “When was the last time you worked in here?”

Sans shrugged, finally stepping into the room. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He picked up a random piece of paper. “We’ll have to ask Pap when he’s done with the heater.”

A low rumble filled the house quickly followed by the sound of rushing air. Both of their gazes snapped to the air vent.

“Seems like he’s got it mostly working,” Alex commented as Sans crossed to it and put his hand in the stream of air. It was cold.

“Eh, not quite. May take the system a bit more warming up before it starts actually heating anything.”

Alex gave a hum in a sort of agreement but Sans didn’t push for a stronger response. Instead, he looked down at the page still in his hand.

He frowned.

“Alex, what do you have in your hand?” he asked, quickly skimming through his page a few times.

“Something about thermal dynamics, I think?” There was a rustle of paper. “Thermo...thermo-something. It’s smudged but a rough bit of it sounds rather fake. Why?”

Sans crossed to his side, his page tight in hand. He grabbed at the free edge of Alex’s page and looked it over.

His eyelights vanished.

“This is Gaster’s work.”

When he got no response, he looked up at Alex to find the human staring blankly at the page looking dazed. He pushed at the other’s arm, asking tentatively, “Alex?”

The human blinked, eyes focusing almost immediately before snapping back to him. “Sorry. Did you say something?”

Sans’s soul dropped to his nonexistent gut. “I asked what you had in your hand.”

Alex blinked at him again before looking down. “Had I picked something up?” Confusion distorted the other’s expression. “Strange. I could have sworn I wasn’t going to touch anything. What is this about?”

With every alarm bell going off in his head, he softly tugged the sheet from Alex’s hand. “Something that I hadn’t realized would be a problem.” The silent, confused question sent his way was very clear. He offered a tight smile. “You’re easily triggered right now, Alex, and I don’t think consistent short term memory loss is a good thing.”

“Oh.”

Sans didn’t blame him for the lack of words. He tucked the page face to face with the one he was reading and kept the pages out of sight. “Let me comb through this stuff before you start arbitrarily picking things up.”

“Ok.” A glance at him told him nothing. “Do you know where Papyrus went, then?”

He opened his mouth only to come up short. “I...no, actually. I saw him go upstairs but that was about it.” He put the sheets down. “Come on. Let’s go see if we can’t find him real quick.”

Alex closed the door as Sans stopped on the bottom step. He led the way up the stairs and found himself looking at an odd sight. Between the doors he knew that led into his and his brother’s was a third door that sat wide open. He peaked in to find a bathroom. The tub he could comprehend. The toilet, not so much, though he was suddenly grateful for it. How had he forgotten about such a significant amenity Alex needed? Even Alex commented on it.

“Glad to know you guys have all the normal workings,” Alex half joked. “Does the toilet actually work?”

“Don’t know. Let me check.” He stepped around Alex back into the hallway. “Hey Papyrus!”

“What!”

It was muffled, like it was coming through several rooms, but it was clear enough that he stepped up to his brother’s partially closed door and pulled it open. There was a door on the right wall that seemed like it should lead into the bathroom. It took a minute for his brain to figure out there was actually space left for a small room behind the rather small bathroom. Papyrus’s desk was pulled away from the door that was sitting wide open, a tapestry or banner of some kind draped over it as if it had been covering the door.

“Does the toilet actually work?”

There was a clunk and then a clatter before he got his brother’s response. It was still a little muffled but he heard it clear enough. “It should. Try flushing it. I ran the water in the sink and tub so we have water. Now I just need to get the furnace to work.”

Sans stepped back to let Alex know but before he could get the words out, there was the distinct sound of a toilet being flushed.

“The handle works,” Alex announced. There was a gurgle sound. “And it flushes fully.” Alex stepped out enough to look at him. “Sounds like the tank’s filling, too, so we should be good.”

He nodded. Looking back to where Papyrus was hiding, he offered, “Toilet works.”

“Good,” came back rather sharply. Another clang, this one louder than the last. “Now this thing just needs to work.”

“So why forced, heated air rather than radiators?” Alex asked, coming to stand at Sans’s side.

“Requires water in pipes we don’t trust.” Sans shrugged. “We don’t mind the drier air and it's an easy system to troubleshoot. All it really requires is a pilot light and, thanks to magic, it shouldn’t go out unless an outside force blows it out.”

Alex grinned at him.

Sans didn’t trust it. “What?”

“You remember quite a lot for not remembering much.”

Sans punched him in the arm, though there wasn’t any strength behind the gesture. “It comes and goes. And if I don’t think too hard before I speak, I can generally recall a lot without realizing it.”

“Does it stick around afterwards, though?”

Sans gained a thoughtful look as they heard Papyrus give a cheer of success. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

It was no use. Despite how much old information seeped into his every day, only a scattering bit of it seemed to remain around long enough for him to realize he had remembered it. He sighed dramatically as he slumped into the couch cushions. The house was quiet beyond the hum of the heater going and the occasional page turn from Alex at the coffee table.

“You ok over there?” Alex asked without looking up from the page he was reading.

“Yeah,” he sighed, grunting as he sat up. “Just trying not to get depressed from my lack of cognitive retainment of memories.”

“Gesundheit.”

Sans snorted. “Anyway, it’s been about a month-”

“Two weeks-”

“-since we left the Lab. You still ok with seeing Grillby later?”

“Yep.”

“And then Toriel and Frisk if that goes well?”

“Yep.”

Sans sent the other a suspicious look and he caught the hints of a smile at the corners of Alex’s lips. “Are you certain?”

Alex chuckled and put the page down. Those bespeckled eyes were full of love and adoration that it made his soul skip a beat painfully. “Sans, I haven’t been triggered for over a week, I’ve been handling our morning walks as we send Papyrus off, and sleeping with Papyrus has kept the nightmares from returning.” A pen was pointed at him in a threatening manner as he opened his mouth to make a rude joke. The grin on Alex’s face was nearly savage. “And don’t even think about articulating that joke, Sans. I will make your life a living hell.”

A solid set of knocks landed on the door. Sans snapped his mouth shut as he glanced at the front door. He found a resolved look on Alex’s face when he looked back, the edges colored by apprehension and worry but no terror, no fear. Standing, he walked over the door and opened it.

The fire elemental standing on the doorstep looked uneasy but presentable like always. A scarf was loose around the neck and tucked into the partially zipped jacket. Despite being made of nothing but flames and magic, a pair of glasses rested on a noseless face of which eyes were hard to discern there aren't glasses acting as markers.

“Hey Grillby,” Sans greeted warmly, stepping back with a gesture into the house. “Come on in. Did you see Toriel on your way here?”

Sans caught movement out of the corner of his vision and focused on it enough to know that Alex was standing. There was still none of the terror they were waiting for there.

Grillby shook his head, the door shutting softly behind him. “I had not kept an eye out for them,” he spoke in a blend of gestures and soulspeak.

“That’s quite alright. It’s best if this part is without them anyways.” He looked to Alex and saw a rather familiar frown. There was no fear, no worry, and it eased a lot more weight than he had expected. “Grillby, this is Alex. Don’t mind his expression. He’s picking apart some puzzle.”

Alex scoffed and that frown gave way to a smile. “Rude,” the human muttered in his direction before focusing on Grillby with a soft smile. “Pleasure to meet you. Sans and Papyrus have talked highly of you.

Grillby glanced his way but he said nothing, letting the fire elemental take control of the conversation.

“He truly does not remember,” Grillby pointed out as if he was still trying to come to terms with it half an hour later.

Sans shrugged. “Not sure what he was supposed to remember myself, honestly. Pap didn’t say anything about Alex knowing of our little town or you. But, then again, I never did ask outright.”

He felt Grillby’s gaze on him. He pretended to be far too fascinated with watching Alex smoke on the front step through the large living room window. Papyrus was out there with him and the pair were laughing their heads off about something.

“Do you have what he has, then?”

Sans sagged into the couch. “Not exactly.” He looked to Grillby and for the first time in a long time, he wondered at what his life had been before his coma, who he had been and what impressions he had left behind. But Grillby didn’t seem all that different from his dream, if not a bit more present in his and his brother’s life. “I have a more complete version of amnesia compared to him. I don’t - voluntarily, mind you - remember anything prior to waking up from my coma and some of the things that do return don’t like to stick around.” He looked back out the window, watching as Alex spoke very passionately about something to Papyrus. He had the skeleton’s full attention and yet all Sans could see was how pink the human’s nose and cheeks had become in the cold and how bright those green eyes were. How long had it been since he had seen them so vibrant? Maybe it was the pink of the man’s cheeks clashing horribly with his red hair and scruffy face that made them pop more. “In the wake of those lost memories, all I have are the memories that remained from a twisted dream.” He looked back at Grillby. “If you want, Alex’s got a recording of what I shared with him upon waking. It’s a doozy, though, so I wouldn’t suggest listening to it before bed.”

The fire at the top of Grillby’s head crackled and Sans got the distinct impression that the other was frowning. “That seems oddly generous for who you have become.”

Sans chuckled. “As much as it may seem that I’ve changed, there’s a part of me that hasn’t.” He looked back out the window just as a squeal came from outside. Alex was trying to get away from Papyrus who had a handful of snow and the back of Alex’s coat and presumably shirt. “That part can’t help but want to share with you what I had shared with Alex, for whatever reason.” He glanced at Grillby. “Despite how much I don’t remember, though, quite a bit is coming back.”

Silence fell between them as they both looked out the window. Papyrus had moved away from the front step waving up the path. Alex was at the door kicking his shoes free of snow.

Sans hummed. “Toriel must be here.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He wasn’t sure how long it had been buzzing before he realized it was. Digging it out, he stared at the caller I.D. without reading it for a good few seconds before simply answering it. “Papyrus speaking.”

“How is he?”

He sucked in a breath, held it, and let it go, offering at the tail end of its escape, “Not good.” He stood up from his chair and stepped out of the room. A glance back assured him even his brother - head rested on folded arms on the mattress - slept through the start of his conversation. The door clicked shut behind him. “He finally woke up but he’s certain it’s the day before yesterday.”

“Is it permanent?”

He heard so much in that question that he paused at the top of the stairs, closing his sockets against all of it. “Toriel, this isn’t your fault and this certainly isn’t Frisk’s either.”

“But-”

“Please, Toriel,” he all but begged, starting down the stairs. “None of us knew he would react that way to them and there certainly was no telling how severe his reaction would have been even if we had guessed.” Movement from the kitchen drew his attention. Grillby stepped just inside the living room, dress shirt sleeves rolled up and apron protecting the front. He met the fire elemental’s curious and slightly concerned gaze even as he took in the fact that Grillby was untying the apron. “All we can do now is move forward.”

Grillby pulled the apron up over his head when Papyrus reached the last step.

“How is Sans?”

Papyrus sighed. “Probably taking this far worse than you are - than any of us, really. He had brought Alex here in hopes of protecting him and now he’s done who knows how much damage trying to help.” He sat heavily on the couch, leaning forward till his elbows were on his knees and his forehead pressed against the heel of his spare hand. “At least, that’s my speculation. He hasn’t talked to me since I got back from work yesterday.”

“Is Undyne giving you the time off you need? Do I need to talk to her for you?”

He cut in before she really got going. “Undyne’s offered me more time than is probably wise.” There was a soft plopping sound and he looked up to find the apron, neatly folded, had been deposited onto the coffee table. He sat up a bit straighter to watch Grillby walk around the piece of furniture to sit at the other end of the couch. “Heck, even Grillby’s still here helping out and I can’t even get him to leave without fear of being burned alive.”

The look he got from the fire elemental was a death threat should he ever think of trying and repercussions of accusing him of such things. Despite how horrible he felt, it made him smile. He let his gaze drift away, focusing back on the conversation. “I’m a little shaken up about what happened but, out of everyone, I’m probably the least affected second only to Grillby. I’m taking the rest of today off just so that Sans can get some much needed rest. Tomorrow, I’ll go in for a partial day. Undyne refused to have me do full days till we know if Alex will be ok or not and since Grillby has to go open his restaurant tomorrow, I didn’t fight her on it.”

“You said that Alex thought it was the day before yesterday; does he remember Grillby?”

“I don’t think so. Out of one of the questions Sans drilled him with, Alex had asked if Grillby and yourself were still coming over. We’re going to wait to reintroduce Grillby until after we know if the short term memory loss is permanent or not but for now Grillby’s presence has been immensely helpful.” He glanced at the lounging monster beside him. “He just can’t stay full time. Yesterday and today were only because he was able to get a few employees to fill in for him. Now he has to fill in for them.”

Grillby nodded in time with Toriel’s hesiated, “Alright.” There was a breath before she continued on. “You will call us if you three need anything, alright, dear?”

“Of course, Lady Toriel.”

“And call me when you have more information and I will make sure the rest of those seeking after Alex’s health know.”

“I will.” He let his head fall against the back of the couch. Grillby’s reassuring touch on his arm was warm and he blindly reached sideways. His fingers found Grillby’s forearm and he gave it a squeeze, the heat of Grillby’s body seeping into his cold fingers. “And thank you.”

“But what about-” The knock on the door drew both of their gazes from the paperwork strewn all over the living room. Alex clambered to his feet as Sans leaned backwards over the couch to peak out the curtains but the whole thing barely caused a pause in Alex’s words. “-all the data that supports it? Certainly it would be worth trying out?”

Sans frowned at the gathering on his porch, a good amount of which was laughing. Papyrus was cutting through it looking for keys - if Sans wasn’t mistaking the hand digging through pockets - with Grillby on his heels. “We can run the numbers but I don’t want to test it till the numbers support it.” He let the curtain close, settling back onto the couch. “It’s Papyrus and a few others.” He frowned. “Were we expecting company?”

Alex unlocked the door with a shrug. “Not that I remember.”

Sans reached out and started gathering pages. A blast of cold air made him shiver.

“Good timing,” Papyrus praised Alex, stomping in. There was the sound of other boots kicking off snow. “Undyne’s place is out of the question for the next couple of game nights so I offered our place for tonight.” A pause. Sans didn’t stop in his paper gathering task. “I take it neither of you got my text.”

“Nope,” Alex confirmed in an amused voice. “Give us a sec and you’ll have the living room all to yourself.”

Papyrus scoffed. He glanced up in time to see Papyrus, two others, and Grillby enter the kitchen. “I am not about to let you two disappear into that lab of yours," Papyrus called back. "You two are staying out here and playing with us.”

Sans looked to Alex. The human chuckled, rolling his eyes in feigned exasperation. Sans snickered as well.

With the last of the pages topping the tower on his arm - he shot Alphys a soft ‘thank you’ for her help - he started for the lab, taking one last glance at Alex in time to see Undyne clasp his shoulder.

Alex smiled at her as she asked, “So, how’re you and the other nerd handling your exile from the Lab?”

“Good,” made its way into the lab a bit muffled but clear enough. “Though I wouldn’t really call it an exile. You’d be surprised how many people drop by.”

He quickly deposited the stack poorly on the nearest flat surface and just as quickly returned to the living room making sure the door was shut and locked behind him. There were three in the living room that Sans didn’t recognize beyond being Papyrus’s co-workers that had begun to - carefully - rearrange the furniture. Alex still looked relaxed and amused and that eased the bit of worry that had started to gnaw at Sans. This was the first time they had so many people at once in the house.

“Th-the three months haven’t hindered a-any of your work?” Alphys asked, joining the conversation that was still near the front door.

The other two Sans didn’t recognize that had followed Papyrus into the kitchen were carefully carrying a partially ladened kitchen table out to be tucked into a corner.

Alex shook his head, glancing at Sans as he made to join them. He gained a nod, though it was hard to tell whether it was something other than a gesture towards him. “Sans’s lab is pretty well equipped but it’s not like we’re doing anything more than crunching numbers and speculating. We still have months of data to go back through before we try for a final time.”

“Alright!” Papyrus announced, exiting the kitchen even as the clatter of dishes continued. Grillby didn’t join him so it was easy to assume that Grillby was still prepping food. “Enough chatter about work! It’s time to play some games.”
Laughter filled the home for what seemed like the hundredth time. Undyne was yelling something as she gestured with the very large hand of cards she now possessed. The glint in her eye and the way her snarl kept threatening to turn into a grin spoke largely of how much of it was for show; she was, after all, the one that had caused her own destruction. Sans squeezed his hurting ribs as he tried - and failed - to get his laughter under control. Each gasp for air was painful but the joy of the whole thing made it hard to stop laughing. Alex pressed into his back laughing too, but there was a heaviness to Alex’s weight that spoke of an exhaustion greater than the joy. Slowly his laughter gave way to the occasional giggle and he sat more upright, gently helping Alex upright with the same momentum. The human’s laughter gave way to a mild coughing fit that petered out in a matter of seconds. Sans could still hear the wheezing, though, and it dampened some of his enjoyment. Despite the heavy exhaustion on Alex’s face, the joy was still very much prominent.

He caught Papyrus glancing at the clock at the edge of his vision.

“I don’t think we can push our luck anymore, Undyne,” the lanky skeleton spoke up, his dejection evident in his words. Sans rubbed away the happy tears that still lingered on his cheeks as bodies began to move. “Do you want us to walk you home?” Papyrus asked Grillby, standing. “Undyne and I are walking Alphys back to the Lab before going on to our shifts so it’ll be on our way and would make up for the last minute invite.”

Grillby dipped his head in a sort of thanks. “If you wish to accompany me, I will not stop you.” There was a slight shift in the flames and Sans got the distinct feeling Grillby was smirking. “You’re not that bad of company.”

Papyrus chuckled. “I’m glad.”

“Get your coat on, Flameboy,” Undyne called over from the entryway. She was helping Alphys into a bright pink, very puffy coat. “We’ve got to get going if we want to be on time.”

“We’ll walk you out,” Alex offered, clambering to his feet.

Papyrus reached out as if to steady him. “No. You’re going right to bed.”

Alex was sure on his feet but still sent Papyrus a soft smile of thanks. Undyne, however, cut in before Alex could say anything. “You sick?”

Alex shrugged with a soft smile. “Outside my normal state of being, no. I’ve just been tired these last few days is all.”

“More so than normal,” Sans interjected, getting to his feet. He met Alphys’s worried look. “Don’t worry. If it turns out to be more than a simple cold, we’ll drag him to see a professional.”

Alphys nodded, the gesture quick and sharp. Undyne relaxed marginally, barking, “Good.” She placed a heavy hand on Alphys’s shoulder, meeting Papyrus’s gaze. The skeleton and fire elemental had joined them at the door and were about ready to walk out. “Come on. We’ve got a nerd to drop off.” Her eye flashed as she took in Grillby. “Make that two.”

Those flames shifted again and Sans got the distinct impression that Grillby was smirking at her.

The air outside was crisp, almost sharp, as it blasted in from the front door. Sans shivered from its initial touch before focusing on the others. Undyne and Alphys were out the door first. Grillby followed sedately as Papyrus swept Alex up in a tight hug. There was soft exchange before the pair parted and Sans found himself suddenly wrapped in a big, tight, warm hug. He didn’t want to let go.

“Make sure he gets to bed soon,” Papyrus urged quietly. “And you too.”

Sans gave him an easy grin as they parted, offering, “I’ll get us both to bed in an hour or two, don’t worry.”

“Promise?”

Sans snorted, rolling his eyelights even as Papyrus half glared at him. “Yea yea. Now get going. You’re threatening to extinguish Grillby in this cold if you don’t leave soon.”

It was a lie. The fire elemental looked quite content - and warm - standing a few feet from the bottom step, a bag over one shoulder, hands buried in coat pockets, and face half obscured by a thick scarf.

Papyrus pressed against the top of Sans’s head, rubbing at it like one would to ruffle someone’s hair. Sans laughed, grinning as he shoved his brother out the door. Papyrus grinned back till he reached the edge of their tiny porch and simply skipped the steps to bound to Grillby’s side. A conversation was started as the pair took off after Undyne and Alphys.

“You guys be safe getting there,” Alex called out, one arm tight around his torso as he waved vigorously with the other. Undyne and Alphys glanced back at his shout and waved when they understood what was going on. Papyrus and Grillby waved at Alex, too.

Alex’s arm fell to his side but the human didn’t move to enter the house and Sans didn’t try and make him. When the others were well out of sight, he heard Alex let out a heavy sigh. The human leaned into him and Sans felt Alex quaking with shivers. He gently nudged at Alex. “Unless you want to smoke, let’s get inside and on our way to bed before you actually do get sick.”

“Alright.”

Fifteen minutes of silence ended as Alex’s voice filled the room as Sans hunted for suitable clothing. “Do you think they might date or am I seeing things?”

“Who?” he asked from where he was digging through a drawer.

“Papyrus and Grillby.”

Sans froze as his brain tried to process that. Straightening with some random shirt in hand, he looked at Alex. The human was lying on his stomach on Sans’s bed, still dressed. “Why do you think they would date? Grillby’s way older than either Pap or me could be. He's probably closer to a father figure than a friend anyways.”

Not that he could back that up. He still didn't remember anything about the fire elemental.

Alex shrugged, the arm draped over the edge of the mattress barely leaving the floor it was laying on. “You're probably right. Just seemed close, was all.”

Sans crossed over to the bed and was tempted to do something to the strange human. In the end, he settled on turning around and sitting on the mattress so that his legs were over Alex’s back and his head was close to the wall the long edge of the mattress was pressed up against. “People could say the same about us.”

Alex huffed a tired laugh. “Oh? And why would they do that?”

Sans sat up and tugged his shirt off. “Well, we’ve been sharing a mattress for two months now.”

“Because I can’t sleep alone and Pap’s been doing night shifts,” Alex lazily pointed out.

“I can’t recall the last time we’ve been seen with other people.”

“That one is not my fault,” Alex chastised. Sans could feel the laughter through his legs.

He dug a heel into a ticklish spot in Alex’s side, gaining a squeal and Alex’s body jerking to get away only to press more into Sans. “And because I’m fairly certain that most assumed we had been together before all this shit hit the fan.”

Alex shifted and Sans was surprised when it brought the human even closer to him. When Alex settled, he had bodily wrapped himself around Sans, knees digging into Sans’s lower left side and head pressed into his right. Sans rested his hand in Alex’s hair, unsure of what to do with the sudden closeness - not that it was unusual in and of itself. Alex was a fricken octopus at night when they slept so physical closeness wasn’t strange anymore but this seeking some sort of comfort was.

“Alex?”

Alex’s body shifted close to him as the human took a deep breath. “What do you remember from before your coma, Sans?”

He carded his fingers through Alex’s hair, worried but willing to play along. “Quite a bit now, but I’m not sure what specifically you’re asking about.”

“So you don’t understand the significance of Papyrus pushing ‘Spin the Bottle’.”

He frowned at the wary certainty in the other’s words. “Should I?” Alex shrugged but it wasn’t enough for him. “Alex, what...why was it significant that he was pushing it?”

Alex took a shaky breath.

It caught in a way that Sans was intensely familiar with.

Alex spasmed around him as the human started coughing. Sans shimmied this way and that until he was able to get himself detangled from the other. Freed, he quickly pulled at Alex to get the other to sit as upright as possible.

The fit lasted far longer than Sans would have liked. By the end of it Alex looked completely exhausted leaning against him seemingly unable to support himself anymore.

“Come on,” Sans softly coaxed. “Let’s get you into bed.”

The maneuvering was awkward and Alex’s breath sounded oddly hollow by the time the human settled on his stomach. Sans bit down on suggesting that he sleep on his back or side.

Alex took a deep breath in. It caused him to cough weakly.

The skin beneath his magic covered hands flinched, bringing his awareness to his actions. He recoiled mentally from what he was doing but the initial flinch was the only negative reaction he got out of Alex before the human moaned low and deep into the mattress. Sans relaxed, letting his not quite the right green healing magic seep into Alex’s back and lungs.

“About a week before your coma, the Lab held its monthly game night.” Sans started at the sudden words. Enough time had passed that he had sworn the other had passed out beneath him, he himself zoning enough to be classified as dozing while casting. In the abrupt change of awareness his soul clenched in his chest. A strange sense of forbidden rolled down his spine as he realized what Alex was talking about. “I...can’t remember who all was there. Even now the memories are horribly pieced together but I know the group playing ‘Spin the Bottle’ - Truth or Dare edition - was pretty big. You were sitting almost directly across from me in the circle, Papyrus one or two people to your left and three people to my right.”

Alex shifted against the mattress as if he could burrow into it without moving more than his head. “I don’t remember whose idea it had been. The game, I mean. People had been more than happy to play. I would be surprised if Alphys and Undyne didn’t remember the event. I think they even spun each other.”

Sans was certain of it, though he couldn’t actually remember any of it.

“It was Pap’s turn to spin.” A beat heavy with something Sans couldn’t decipher. “And it landed on me. As soon as the bottle had stilled, Pap had gained a triumphant look.” Another beat but this time Alex’s next words carried the human’s mild frustration. “I can’t remember why I wasn’t able to choose truth. The only thing I do remember about it was that it was part of the house rules and I couldn’t avoid the dare I knew he was about to give me. I had known it the instant he had dragged me to that circle.”

Sans felt his soul twist in his chest, anticipation making it beat harder.

Alex took a shuddering breath before he all but confessed, “He dared me to kiss you.”

It was like his entire system got interrupted by that. His healing magic sputtered out and all his brain could focus on was the memories of asking Alex what they had been back at the beginning of his recovery. Something coiled heavy in his stomach and his eye sockets seemed to burn.

Words kept tumbling from Alex’s lips and it took a moment for Sans to start understanding any of it again. “-you stood up and walked over to me and it was all I could do to not drown under the toxic blend of emotions.” A breath. “But you reached down and your hands were so steady that I felt so alone. How could this have happened? Why was Pap ruining everything?” A second breath, this one shakier and far more raw than the last one. “But instead of the longest, agonizing thirty seconds of my life that was going to destroy everything we had worked so hard to steady, it turned into thirty seconds of bliss that didn’t last long enough.” Alex gave a breathy laugh that sent magic rippling from Sans’s hands like goose bumps. “I don’t even know how you managed to kiss me like that but it was-” a choked word and Sans buried his fingers into Alex’s hair to reassure the other, “it was something that’s haunted me till my own amnesia rolled in.”

“Did we talk afterwards?” Sans asked, his voice hoarse in his throat.

Alex trembled under his hands. “No.”

“Liar.”

The word was past his tongue before his brain could form it. But as Alex twisted around to stare at him, he found that he could back up his claim. The memories were slowly trickling in and with each new one, the bitter taste on the back of his tongue grew. “We talked about it and I promised-” He recoiled from the memory and he forced the rest of the sentence out, “I promised you a date the same day I was stupid enough to fall into my coma.”

Alex struggled to get upright. “You didn’t do that on purpose!”

“Didn’t I?” Sans challenged, his words edged in a sorrow he hadn’t known. “I could have left Gaster’s work alone. I could have picked up on the warning signs earlier and had gotten help before I passed out on the same day we were supposed to go out!”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Alex urged, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t it?” Sans barked back. “All this time and you didn’t continue to pine after some skeleton that wasn’t coming back?”

“I had come to terms with that!”

The shout echoed through the room but it wasn’t what had stopped Sans short. Nor Alex. Sans watched as thick tears streaked down Alex’s face and the human jerked away, desperately trying to rub the tears away. A solid, bitter weight settled in Sans’s chest as he heard the first choking sob escape the other.

It took far too long for him to reach out and pull the human towards him. The gesture was harder than he had intended but Alex followed willingly. He felt Alex’s fingers dig into his shoulder blades as the human’s arms constricted around his ribs. He held the other just as tightly, feeling like the ass he was.

He carded his fingers through Alex’s hair hopelessly lost on what to do to make things better. If only he hadn’t been so blinded by whatever it was he had been researching.

“I’m so sorry, Alex,” Sans offered, letting his soul lead his words. His mind was too muddled to even try and filter any of it. “I had promised you so much and then turned around and forgot all of it. I forgot you, this world, everything we’d ever done together, and for what? A solution that I never got? A broken mind for my efforts?” He pressed his face into Alex’s hair. “I had wanted to do right by you. Papyrus had done me a favor daring you like that and I’d thrown it out the window chasing fantasies.”

Alex shifted against his chest like he wanted to pull away but the human didn’t leave his chest. “You were-were trying to save the Underground,” the human urged between sobs. “It was our job.”

He pulled Alex off of him if only to seek out those green eyes. Somewhere Alex had lost his glasses and those green eyes fought to focus on him through tears that didn’t seem to end. “But you’re just as important.”

Alex was shaking his head, already prepared to counter his words. “The Underground-”

“I don’t care about the Underground if it means I lose you!”

They both sucked in a sharp breath, but where Sans’s caught in his chest and stayed there, Alex’s wrenched out a massive coughing fit. Guilt bit at Sans’s soul as he went through the motions of getting Alex to breathe normally again.

The fit left Alex shaking against him, breathing shallow and rattling horribly. Sans found himself running his hand through Alex’s hair again.

“You and I both know I don’t have much longer to live, Sans.” Alex’s voice - weak and hoarse - barely carried through the still air. “You’ll outlive me by centuries even if I do live long enough to see the Overworld. But with how things are going, as long as I get to see you and Pap happy, I don’t care if I never see it. Just as long as you two do.”

“You’ll see it,” Sans retaliated. “We’ll figure out the solution and we’ll keep you living till you die of old age.”

That gained him a pitiful chuckle out of the human but nothing more and Sans fell silent.

“At least you finally remember me too. S’the least I’d hoped for.”

The words cut through the air and with them came a few stragglers of memories. They were little things, things that made his soul ache against all the damage he hadn’t meant to cause and he moved before he could think against his actions. He cupped Alex’s cheek, coaxing the other to look up at him. “Thankfully it wasn’t the most.”

He saw the confusion start to stretch across Alex’s expression as he let instinct and defiance drive the kiss.

At first it was short, hesitant, but the more Alex responded, the more Sans didn’t want to stop and it wasn’t till a new sob broke through that Sans realized the significance of what he had done. He felt rather justified as his entire being seemed to burn with more of the memories that had originally driven him to strut across that circle of people and kiss Alex like it was the only chance he was going to get.

He cupped Alex’s face and wiped away the tears with his thumbs only to have more replace them. “Hey, I know I’m a bad kisser but crying seems a bit excessive,” he tried joking, his smile tight and his soul hurting. Despite how confidently - or cockily - he had kissed Alex, it hadn’t stayed and now he was left with concern and doubt.

Alex gave a watery laugh. A few coughs cut through but Alex didn’t let them keep him from urging, “No, it-that had-” Another watery laugh and those green eyes bright with tears locked onto his face. “I had honestly believed you would never kiss me like that again.” Another sob broke through, this one heavy with a sorrow that stabbed through Sans’s soul. “I had given up hope you would ever come back for me.”

Screw his apprehension about consequences and misstepping. He pulled Alex’s face to his and he kissed the stupid human soundly. It was wet, it was sloppy, but damn if it wasn’t filled with every ounce of love he had for the bloody octopus of a human being.

The kiss broke as Alex’s lungs betrayed him again. Sans helped him through the fit like he always did, stating plainly as the coughing subsided, “I’m going to make all of this up to you. Every missed moment, every lost date, I’m going to make it up to you.”

Alex gave him a breathy chuckle, asking mildly, “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

Sans shrugged, catching Alex’s lips in another kiss. “Not sure yet.” Another kiss. “But I do know that I can at least drown you in kisses tonight.”

He kissed along Alex’s lower lip as the human chuckled under him. “We should probably talk about this first.”

“Nuff talkin’,” Sans grumbled as he kissed Alex’s jaw. The whiskers of Alex’s scruff of a beard was a strange sensation that Sans was quickly growing fond of. “More loving.”

“Heh. Rude.”

Sans huffed and caught Alex’s lips in another kiss. It was slow, languid, and he felt Alex’s hands press into his chest. A spark filled shiver raced down his spine as those hands ran up his ribs, along his shoulders to his neck, to his head, to his arms, down his back…

Sans nipped gently at Alex’s throat. Something primal escaped Alex’s throat as the other’s nails scrapped at him, one set at the back of his skull, the other at his left shoulder blade. Alex’s throat bobbed against his teeth as the human swallowed. “Sans.”

It was breathy but it was like a pleasurable weight on his back, on his head, and it ---error--- his magic he hadn’t ---error--- his coma. He hummed against Alex’s throat, tracing the nonexistent bite mark with a conjured tongue.

“I…” a panted breath, “what were we going to do, that first date?”

He ---error--- shirt and ---error--- him to get away from the cold ---error--- with a soft, slow drag of ---error---. “I think I wrote it down somewhere because I didn’t want to forget.” Another ---error--- Alex. “It had been a really good one, ---error--- it.”

“Would….” A shaky breath escaped Alex and it was all Sans could do not to pull back and meet the human’s eyes. He could feel the tension - the hesitation and self consciousness - with every ---error---

A jolt of magic shot down his spine at that and he jerked back, searching for ---error--- ---error--- ---error--- His face twisted against not being able to straighten out his thoughts enough to explain. ---error---

---error---

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Alex cut him off with a kiss. “I know,” came out as a whisper between them. “And I know I said ---error--- ---error--- ---error--- ---error--- ---error--- ---error---

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---error--- Bath?"

"Sounds nice."

Alex actually managed to get himself upright and off the bed. Sans walked with him into the bathroom and started up the water. "Set the temp to what you want," he directed Alex as the human sat on the edge of the tub. Sans stole a kiss as he cupped the side of Alex's head. "I ---error---

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---error--- bath was long and languid. Sans ---error--- traded places. ---error--- water stayed warm for all of it and Sans felt another pang of guilt when he had to rouse Alex again.

"Come on. Bed's clean," he coaxed.

Alex grumbled something but complied. There was no point in trying to get ---error--- other was asleep on his feet and Sans wanted it to stay that way. He ---error--- ---error--- don’t have to, you know.”

“Want to,” was the mumbled reply.

Sans chuckled softly and went back ---error---

---error--- flopped onto ---error--- as they were within range and Sans chuckled again. “Want ---error--- sleep?”

“Sleep,” came back muffled.

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---error--- ---error--- wrapped around him before he was even fully sitting and an amused smile pulled at his face.

“Think ---error--- in the morning?” Sans inquired softly, happily wrapping himself around Alex in turn.

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---error--- one last time, offering ---error--- to sleep. He felt Alex accomplish sleep long before he did and Sans let himself drift off with nothing but blissful thoughts.
There was a clang from the kitchen that was muffled by the door. It woke him up and for a moment he hovered between returning to sleep and waking fully. The decision was made for him when the gnawing of hunger made itself known. Yawning, Sans sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress before stretching. His spine cracked in the best of ways. A heavy, pleased sigh escaped him as he sagged forward. A goofy grin pulled at his face and he couldn't bring himself to care. Alex shifted behind him and his grin grew bigger. Stars above preserve his soul; he pressed his hands against his cheeks in a failed attempt to ease the strain on his cheeks.

Another clang sounded through the door, muffled as the last one and accompanied this time by Papyrus’s annoyed voice chasing after it. “Man, wonder what Pap’s making for breakfast,” Sans commented, listening as a third crash suddenly sounded through the door and the floor, Papyrus’s enraged voice just as loud. Sans chuckled as he leaned back. “Might as well go down and find out, huh?”

Sans looked over his shoulder at Alex, still grinning and expecting to meet an equally content expression.

The grin faltered.

Alex looked ashen with skin shining from sweat. The smile vanished completely and he reached out to run a hand through Alex's hair. “What’s wrong?”

His hand was batted away.

“I’m fine,” Alex ground out as he shoved himself upright. Sans hands shot out when Alex swayed on the mattress but Alex just batted his hands away again. The gesture forced Sans backwards and he got to his feet watching Alex press bare feet into the clothing covered floor without another word. Sans hovered despite the glare sent his way as Alex stood.

He didn’t stay standing for long.

Alex hit the floor with a dull thud. “Alex!” Sans cried, hitting his knees beside the prone human. He rolled Alex over, one hand going to Alex’s neck, Sans’s cheekbone going over Alex’s mouth and nose. Sans’s soul felt like it would give out.

Alex wasn’t breathing.

There was no pulse.

“PAPYRUS!” Sans screamed, his voice cracking as magic surged and crackled around him.

He couldn’t use it.

Despite being able to use low levels of healing magic on him, despite the instinctual urge to use magic to help Alex, - despite last night - Sans fought to rein his magic in. He couldn’t risk causing more damage. There was no telling how Alex’s body would react to the amount of healing magic required. So he settled on the next best thing.

Thundering footsteps crossed the landing outside the bedroom doors as Sans placed his hands on Alex’s chest and started chest compressions. The door banged open and Sans’s gaze snapped to Papyrus, already rushing, “The defibrillator!”

Papyrus turned and booked it back down the stairs. Sans focused back on Alex as he listened to his brother. Out of all the places for Alex’s heart to give out, they had expected it to be in the lab where Alex was stressed the most. Sans mentally cursed himself. Why hadn’t they put the AED in one of their rooms? Why did they have to have kept it in the lab?

Why didn’t they have a spare?!

Papyrus’s heavy footfall on the landing put an end to his thoughts as he looked to the door. There was no point getting himself worked up over it now. He had to focus on saving Alex.

Papyrus rushed in with the modified AED. The taller skeleton placed it above Alex’s head and popped the container open. There was a crackling in the air and Sans shuddered when he felt Papyrus’s magic join his in the air and push. He sucked in a breath as he pulled at his magic, trying to rein it in better.

An electronic voice cut through the air in the room, chilling Sans’s bones as it started giving directions.

He stopped compressions for the two seconds it took Papyrus to slice through Alex’s shirt. Counting away and giving breathes, he half watched Papyrus pull out the defibrillation pads. There was no tremble to his brother’s sure hands as the pads were quickly, meticulously placed. Sans wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry when he realized just how much calmer his younger brother was.

At least one of them had their skull on straight.

The electronic voice spoke and Sans flinched when Papyrus grabbed his arms and firmly pulled his touch away from Alex. Sans watched, waited as the machine went through the automated process. He only moved when Papyrus released him to return to chest compressions or when Papyrus pulled him away.

Finally, finally, after what felt like far too long, Alex’s heart started beating on its own. Sans sat back heavily, the sigh that escaped him sounding far more like a moan, overwhelmed and grateful as they watched Alex’s pulse on the monitor, waiting. A few minutes passed before Alex started to wake. Papyrus took the initiative and shut the AED down before removing the defibrillation pads from Alex’s body. Sans reached over and rested a heavy hand against the human’s chest, asking, “How are you feeling?”

Alex frowned up at him for a breath before answering, “Feels like Undyne kicked me in the chest.”

Papyrus stood with the packed AED in hand. “I’ll go call the doctor."

"No, don’t. I’m fine." Alex tried to sit up but Sans pushed on his chest, pinning him. "Sans-"

"No. Pap, call the doc. See if we need to take him to the hospital." Sans focused back on Alex as the human made to protest again. "Alex, you are going to be checked over. I'm not a medical doctor and neither are you and we need to make sure that you're going to be ok."

Alex tried to bat his hand off his chest but Sans didn't relent. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am!"

"You're shaking, Alex. You're not fine."

He watched as Alex raised a hand to his face and they both watched it tremble between them.

The sudden sob startled Sans and maybe it started Alex too because the human curled in on himself and away from Sans. He didn’t let the other get very far, pulling at him to bring Alex to his chest. Those trembling hands clenched the back of his tank top with enough force that Sans would be surprised if there weren’t holes in it when he took it off.

He started to hear his brother’s voice as it drifted in through the open door. From what he could make out over Alex’s sobbing, it sounded like the other was on the phone. He hoped it was with the doctor. The words settled at a level just below his ability to make them out clearly and he waited, holding a sobbing Alex tight.

When Papyrus finally did return, Alex’s sobbing had petered out. “Dr. Bastian will be here in 15 minutes. She said to get Alex comfortable wherever he wanted to be. She’ll determine whether or not he needs to go to the hospital when she gets here.”

Alex shifted against Sans but didn’t pull away. He looked down at the human, coaxing, “Where do you want to be?”

“Can it be the couch?” was mumbled into his chest.

He looked to Papyrus. “Think we can manage the couch?”

Papyrus nodded, kneeling behind Alex. “Of course. Alex, I’m going to pick you up.”

Sans felt the grip around him tighten briefly before letting go completely. Papyrus’s motions were sure and Alex was up in his arms in a matter of seconds. Sans followed them down to the living room, hovering as Papyrus took care of settling Alex into the couch. He wasn’t looking forward to the wait once the other was settled.

The knock on the door seemed to take forever. A glance at the time was proof the doctor was early.

Papyrus put a hand on Sans’s shoulder and stood in his stead. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be offended or grateful that Papyrus wasn’t letting him leave Alex’s side. Said human’s grip on him tightened and he settled on grateful.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Dr. Bastian, Cecile.”

“Of course, Papyrus,” Dr. Bastian spoke, entering the home. Her eyes were quick to pick out Alex and Sans entangled on the couch. As soon as Sans had sat down, Alex had designated him as a good enough pillow and had yet to release him. Her gaze stayed on Alex only for a moment before she focused on Sans. “You can stay sitting with him but I’m going to need him to sit up so that I can work,”

He felt Alex fight him on that but the human sat up as Cecile crossed to the coffee table and put down the large bag they had been carrying. Dr. Bastian knelt before Alex, giving him a soft smile. “Hi, Alex.”

“Hi, Dr. Bastian.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. My chest feels like Undyne kicked it.”

Dr. Bastian chuckled. “I’m sure it does. Will you let me check you over and see if we need to get you to the hospital?”

“Sure.”

She turned, picking through the bag still being unpacked. “We both know I’m assuming this is a result of your current heart condition so I’m going to check to make sure your heart has regained its steady rhythm again. If everything checks out, I’ll want to put a heart monitor on you so that we can have some advanced warning for if it happens again.” She gave Alex a flat look. “If it happens again, you go to the hospital.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She went back to going through the bag’s content. “Now, I know your body naturally fights any magic used on you but the heart monitor runs off of your own soul magic so I’ll need to have Cecile summon your soul for me.” Her gaze moved to Sans and he tried not to squirm under her sharp gaze. “Unless you’re more comfortable with Sans or Papyrus doing it.”

“Sans can,” Alex croaked quickly.

Dr. Bastian’s focus was completely on Sans now. “Have you pulled out his soul before?”

“Last night, after everyone had left,” Sans informed her, the latter directed at Papyrus when the other shifted in question.

Dr. Bastian sat a bit straighter. “Any adverse effects from it?”

Sans fought to keep his magic from dusting his cheeks. “None that were apparent. He didn’t have a customary fit afterwards, at the very least.”

Dr. Bastian’s gaze snapped to Alex’s face. Pink had dusted the human’s cheek but that was the only show that he had thought of the same thing Sans had. “You’ve gotten used to his magic, then?”

Alex shrugged. “I had asked him to do it. I wanted to see it.”

Dr. Bastian picked up some instrument. “Fair enough. Let’s get everything else out of the way first.”

“So…” Sans started as Dr. Bastian entered the kitchen behind him. Cecile was talking quietly with Papyrus as Alex started to succumb to sleep against the skeleton’s side. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”

“I’m concerned his heart may give out on him completely and not restart no matter what we try. He’s already on borrowed time.”

His chest tightened. “The plan?”

She looked at him. “Keep him comfortable. His chest will hurt for the next few days as the heart loses the proverbial bruising. Keep an eye on his heart rate but regular exercise throughout the day will help him heal faster. I’m sure Cecile’s already given the regiment to Papyrus.” Her gaze drifted to the couch where Alex was now fast asleep wrapped in a warm blanket. Papyrus was still sitting next to him, arm wrapped around the blanket covered shoulders holding the human close. “Beyond that, all we can do is wait and see what happens.”

“Nothing else?”

She looked at him but it was weary. “His soul is healthy. I don’t think I’ve seen a Perseverance soul so bright in the last few years that has made it through so many trials, illness aside. He’s strong but he’s stubborn. Besides,” she returned her gaze to the trio, “with how his body reacts to magic, there’s isn’t much the hospital can do for him. Most of our operations have some sort of base in magic and we can’t rely on either you or your brother to provide magic his body is mildly comfortable enough with. It just doesn’t work that way.”

Sans watched as Papyrus stood up with Alex in his arms, saying something to Cecile before disappearing up the stairs, presumably to put Alex to bed. “No idea of any doctor that could do the needed surgery without magic?”

“Not that I know personally but I’ll ask around. I’m sure there’s someone who does. It’s been long enough since the first inquiry that someone’s bound to have learned how.”

He saw Dr. Bastian and Cecile out before heading upstairs.

He found them in Papyrus’s room, Alex asleep under the covers and Papyrus reading in the desk chair. Papyrus looked up at him, taking the glasses off. “Well?”

“Waiting game,” he offered in the same hushed voice. “She’s going to look into anyone that can do the surgery he needs.”

“They’re going to try and repair the damage.”

He nodded. “I’m assuming - if nothing else - they’re going to try and get his heart to keep from doing this again but it’s a dangerous surgery within and of itself if one can’t use magic on the patient.” Papyrus sagged at that. He amended, “Still dangerous with magic and it would have to be his decision. It’s not an easy surgery to go through.”

Papyrus sighed. “So we just keep him calm but active till we hear more.”

“Pretty much.”

Alex woke an hour later. The only reason Sans knew from his lab was the faint pinging chime he could hear and the sudden pull on his soul. Instinct drove him to shortcut his way to the second floor landing and he rushed into Papyrus’s room hearing Papyrus’s soft, coaxing words.

“What happened?” he asked softly, slowing his approach.

“Nightmare,” Papyrus supplied without looking away from the human. “Alex?”

“I-I’m…I’m…” Those green eyes flickered between them, very bright and slowly losing the haze of sleep. A shuddering breath and then, “I’m ok. I’m awake.”

Sans reached out without thinking, burying his hand in red hair. Alex pressed into the touch. “Do you remember any of it?”

He saw and felt Alex shudder. “Something was-was after me. Trying to do something to my chest. I don’t remember what it was but it was-I didn’t like it.” Papyrus engulfed Alex in a hug. “I was so scared.”

“You’re safe now,” Papyrus urged softly. “G-” a flicker of eyelights towards Sans, “It can’t get you now.”

They stayed huddled around Alex till the human seemed to drift back off. Only then did Sans speak up. “Hey, how bout we get some food in us.”

“It’s still early enough for breakfast,” Papyrus mused.

Sans snorted. “Bro, it could be dinner time and it would still be appropriate to eat breakfast.”

A soft giggle escaped Alex and maybe that was why Papyrus gave so easily. “You’re not wrong.” There as a shrewd look in those sockets. “Especially when your sleep schedule isn’t normal like the rest of ours.”

A soft, little, “Ooooh,” came from the snickering human and Sans realized his misinterpretation of Papyrus’s actions. He chuckled, taking the burn without much thought to it. “Fair enough. Mind getting food going, then, Pap? I’ll make sure sickly here does some exercising before we head down.”

Papyrus got up as Alex sighed. “Do I have to? Can’t I just go back to sleep?”

Papyrus ran a hand through Alex’s hair before slipping out, dragging a hand over Sans’s skull as he went. Sans gave the human an amused, sharp look. “You’re not getting out of physical therapy this time. Up ya get.”

Alex gave an exaggerated sigh but there was the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips.

By the time they had gone through the sheet and tested each activity, wonderful smells were drifting up the stairs they were descending.

"Smells good."

Sans glanced over and caught sight of Alex’s expression. It held the same apprehensive disappointment his voice had carried and Sans gave his hand a squeeze. Those green eyes met his. “Papyrus will have something you can eat, something easy after what you’ve gone through.”

Alex gave him a soft smile. “I haven’t been hiding it very well, have I?”

“Not from me but that’s not why I said it.” He stopped at the foot of the stairs, Alex stopping one step up. The human leaned into him and Sans took the human’s weight without complaint. “You just tried dying on us. Papyrus is going to worry, he’s going to fret, and he’ll end up making you something light but filling that’s easy on your system. Even monster food weighs on the human body.”

Alex pressed a kiss into his skull, the gesture tired but loving. “I’m not going to be able to eat all of it.”

“And Pap won’t be offended.”

For a moment they stood there listening to the sounds from the kitchen, Alex clinging to him like a lifeline. When the sounds in the kitchen quieted, Alex pulled away and stepped down. Sans kept pace with him into the kitchen and to the table.

Papyrus had outdone himself. The three place settings had three very different meals laid out. Alex’s was the simplest; a bowl holding a variety of monster oatmeal with a small glass of juice waited for the human. The oatmeal would be light but filling and the look of relief on Alex’s face spoke loudly of the human’s thoughts on the simple dish. He smiled at Papyrus as he sat. “Thank you, Pap. Looks great.”

Papyrus nodded, sitting down with a bowl of mixed fruit in hand. “Of course. Don’t force yourself if I made too much.”

Another flicker of relief. Sans smiled at it. Honestly, Alex was worse than he was fretting about Papyrus. Sans settled at his designated spot and started digging into the three sunny side up eggs, a mound of hash drowning in ketchup, and three thick strips of bacon. There was also a short stack of waffles and it wasn’t till his first bite of food that he realized Papyrus had pegged his hunger level perfectly. Papyrus was just as ravenous as he was - a plate of waffles triple the height of his, a massive bowl of mixed fruits and berries, and half a plate of eggs - after the morning they’d had, everything before the taller skeleton vanished just as quickly as Sans’s did.

Alex was the last to finish eating, which was to be expected, but at least he had eaten something. Sans took Alex’s half empty bowl to the sink and added it to the stack Papyrus was already working on. Alex watched them but Sans couldn’t help and feel uneasy about it. He turned to Alex, leaning back against the counter. Unsure as to what else to offer, he spoke up with, “You feeling up for some paperwork?”

Alex’s head tipped to the side slightly, his eyes focusing on Sans. Sans suddenly realized Alex didn’t have his glasses on. No wonder Alex’s expression was off; Alex couldn’t actually see them clearly. Sans refrained from smacking himself, if just barely. “I wouldn’t be opposed to getting some work done.”

Ah. Alex had taken it as a negative notation which, without being able to see Sans’s uneasy expression, hadn’t been what Sans had intended by it. Sans crossed back to the table, plopping into his seat with a shrug. “Up to you. If you’re up to it, you’re up to it. If you want to do something else, we can do something else.” Sans watched the understanding flicker in Alex’s gaze. “Just, I vouch for the kitchen table or the couch, rather than the lab.”

“Couch is fine,” Alex commented before Papyrus could put in his two cents. Sans grinned at his brother and, while Alex’s gaze flickered to the taller skeleton, it focused back on Sans. “I take it Papyrus was going to vote on one?”

“I was going to agree with Sans, yes,” Papyrus confirmed as he walked over. He placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder as the man looked up at him, green eyes taking him in without glasses. “If you want to work, the least amount of stress and strain is best. I know neither of us can convince you to take a day off.”

Alex gave Papyrus a sad smile. “Not with the kind of deadline that’s looming over our heads. Though, I doubt I would have said anything had Sans not.”

That green gaze was teasing and Sans shrugged. “Hey, if you want to go sleep, I’m all for it. You just don’t look tired enough to sleep.”

Papyrus chuckled. “I will make sure Alex makes it to the couch without incident if you would go fetch him some work to do.”

Sans nodded, getting up. “Any requests?” he directed at Alex.

“Just the latest stuff.”

Sans nodded again. He stepped out of the kitchen and went to the lab. It was in the same state they had left it in the day prior so all Sans really had to do was scoop up the pile still standing on the table. It held the latest charts and tests, the latest reports from the Lab, the last sets of results from the different experiments; it was all either of them were going over. They had both come to the agreement that they had missed something in the latest reports and had been going over them and comparing them to their own notes and experiments. Sans also grabbed the tablet and used it to support the stack of papers. With a quick flick of his wrist, the lab went dark.

He closed the door behind him as he looked at the couch. Alex was a human burrito nestled with his back against the front of the couch and the coffee table pulled up like a desk. Papyrus was seated in his normal spot closest to the door, his leg against Alex. The pair looked at him as he walked over with his stack and placed it on the low table. Papyrus gave him a look. “That seems a bit excessive, Sans.”

“Actually,” Alex cut in, deflating the argument before it could gain any real passion. Sans noted that Papyrus had gotten Alex his glasses. “I’ve been doing a lot of cross-referencing. This is only the most recent stuff and I’ll probably be done with it by dinner time.”

Sans plopped on the other end of the couch, tablet still in hand. He gestured at the stack grinning. “Yeah. Some of it’s mine as well so it’s more than it seems.”

Alex looked at him. “You still going through those old files?”

Sans sighed as he opened said old files. A rather familiar font filled the screen before he swiped at the screen, creating a side-by-side translation. As much as he trusted the program to translate the Wingdings font properly, he liked being able to read the original just in case. “Yeah. I’m certain there’s something in here that’d help us, I just don’t know what yet.”

Alex nodded and got to work. Sans glanced at Papyrus as the lanky skeleton turned the TV on, the volume so low that Sans doubted that Papyrus was actually able to discern anything. He did notice that Papyrus hadn’t shifted his leg from Alex’s side and, if he wasn’t mistaken, Alex was actually leaning against it. A soft smile curled his expression as he focused on the tablet. He was glad that the event that morning hadn’t done any serious damage to their relationships with each other.

The hours passed both slowly and quickly. Sans noted that Alex spent more time watching the tv with half lidded eyes than actually working, which Sans supposed had been his brother’s intent in the first place. Papyrus made lunch but neither brother was ok with Alex moving from his spot so they had sandwiches where they sat. Papyrus left the two scientists at the couch as he went and changed for his guard shift. He came back with a bundle of light armor dressed in the uniform. The light armor was strapped on in the entryway before he bade them farewell on his way out, the armor sliding smoothly to barely make a sound.

They both sent Papyrus off with encouragements but Sans was half distracted with keeping an eye on Alex. If Alex didn’t speak up, Sans was calling it an early night after dinner.

A frown pulled at Alex’s features as Sans placed dinner next to the papers Alex was working on a few hours later and, without looking up from the paper, Alex asked as he pulled the bowl of soup closer, “Hey, Sans, what about this?” He passed Sans the paper, ladling a spoonful of soup in his mouth as the skeleton settled on the edge of the couch. “What if the results are not from a lack of us trying?” Sans read the report, reaching over Alex to pick up a few other pages as Alex continued, “I think we’re on the edge of it. We just need to add more.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve tried every element combination we have on hand,” Sans offered sadly, shuffling the papers in his hand as he reread parts.

Alex shook his head. “We haven’t tried multiple combinations yet. Nor distorted elements.”

Sans gave Alex a credulous look. “We’ve done some. With so many variables, though, we cannot control the tests well enough to prevent some of the more volatile reactions. I don’t think we could handle anything more volatile than what we’ve already risked our lives with.”

Alex grimaced at the reminder of their close calls. “True.” He started going through the mess on the coffee table. “But I think those had more promising results than the most recent experiments.”

“There’s also the fact that we’ve been avoiding using magic for a reason,” Sans pointed out as Alex pulled a few papers from the bottom of the pile that promptly dumped itself on the floor. Sans got up as Alex ignored the mess in favor of flipping through the papers he had grabbed, countering, “Which I think needs to stop.”

Sans gave him a look. Alex rushed on, “I know magic is volatile when added to experiments like this and that any test of just pure magic on the atmosphere has resulted in negative results but I think if we start adding magic to the elements we’re using, maybe we’ll get the results we need. We haven’t even touched soul power.”

Sans slammed the stack he had created against the coffee table, snapping Alex’s gaze up and causing the bowl to clatter. “We will never get permission to be able to use souls on this project,” Sans uttered, his eyes narrow. “And don’t even–”

Alex cut him off, covering one of Sans’s hands with his own. “I won’t. It was just a statement.”

“A dangerous one.” Sans’s expression softened. “We can’t risk another being for an experiment that has a high chance of failing. We’ve already been over this.”

Alex chuckled softly, some form of dark humor flickering through those green eyes. “Yet we risk our lives time and time again, not to mention we’re running out of time. Other Undergrounds have already been fully compromised not to mention we’re losing contact with the neighboring Undergrounds and our own time is running out. The filters are beginning to fail at a rate that can’t be countered anymore.”

Sans let out a sharp hiss of air as he placed the remainder of the mess back on the table. “I know.”

Alex opened his mouth to offer something, his expression soft, but the door banged open scaring both monster and human. Sans’s magic flared as his hand came up out of instinct but the magic vanished quickly as Papyrus leaned in using the doorframe as support, out of breath and magic palpable around him. His armor looked disheveled.

“The Lab’s being attacked.”
Alex yanked at the blanket he was still securely wrapped in as Sans teleported to his room. He tore through his closet and dresser, tossing things out of the way and aiming a few articles at his mattress. Sans found he had automatically pulled out what he had worn in that coma induced dream of his that still haunted his dreams as regularly as any Gaster related nightmare. He had really liked the outfit at one point but now he could use it to fight in without fretting of losing a good shirt or a comfy pair of shorts. Heavy footfall was heard on the stairs and he was soon joined by Papyrus carrying Alex as he tossed a pair of Alex’s jeans onto the bed next to a long sleeve shirt and a random t-shirt he had come across. The extra layers would do Alex some good. Sans dressed quickly before helping his brother aid Alex in dressing as well.

Worry gnawed at Sans’s soul. He could feel Alex shaking beneath his careful hands as he helped the human into the jeans as Papyrus went digging through the mess around them. Alex needed to recover, not go head first into a battle. Sans helped Alex into the t-shirt as he urged softly. “You should be staying here.”

Alex gave him a tired smile, his expression tight around the edges once his head came free of the fabric. “I can’t. I’ll worry myself to death if I do that.” The dark humor was unwanted by the two skeletons. It wasn’t helped by the soft beeping coming from the heart monitor on Alex’s wrist. Alex didn’t apologize. “Besides, I know how to shut down the main systems, how to keep the place from blowing a hole to the Overworld. It’ll keep me out of harm’s way and useful.”

Papyrus draped a leather jacket across Alex’s shoulders, passing Sans an all too familiar blue jacket. Papyrus cupped the side of Alex’s head. “Just don’t overdo it. We don’t want to lose you for real this time.

Alex nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

There was a brief stop at the door for shoes before the trio stepped out into the snow. As much as Sans was eternally grateful the Lab was within the Snowdin region, he cursed the distance they had to cover to get there. Alex was shoved onto Papyrus’s back by both skeletons before the human could even think of running said distance. With their sick human secured, Sans led the way, Papyrus easily keeping pace.

The sounds became understandable long before they actually saw anything. By that point, Sans was really hurting - they didn’t need to breathe, not really, but damn if it didn’t feel like he was suffocating - but he wasn’t going to say anything. Instead, he looked to Papyrus and Alex. A sort of scream roar echoed through their heads and Sans watched as Alex flinched, his grip around Papyrus’s neck tightening as the human buried his face in the crook of his arm. The lanky skeleton sent a look to Sans. Sans nodded. They would do everything in their power to get this done quickly so that they could get Alex home.

Sans caught glimpses of a black mass nearly as tall as the Lab itself through the trees. He shuddered, risking a glance at his brother and Alex again. Papyrus’s wide sockets spoke too clearly that he had seen it. Thankfully Alex still had his face hidden.

Sans ran harder.

They came to a side entrance, both brothers breathing heavily but too pumped with adrenaline to care. Sans grabbed the back of Alex’s coat, guiding him off of Papyrus’s back as he rattled off, “Get inside, help with the shut down, then get as far from here as you can. We’ll keep the attackers out of the lab for as long as we can manage. You just make sure it’s not going to explode when they do.”

Alex nodded and slipped through the side entrance. Sans grabbed his brother’s hand and teleported them to the battle field.

It was utter chaos. Already a fourth of the forces trying to keep Gaster at bay had been wiped out. Distorted creatures were coming out from every part of the dark mass. Left eye ablaze with blue magic, Sans summoned an array of blasters and let loose. White blue beams of burning magic shot out of the skulls, decimating the creatures oozing out of Gaster’s inky blob of a form but seemed to have no affect on Gaster himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught flashes of white orange beams of magic. Only once did Sans allow himself a glance at his brother.

Papyrus, ever the caring soul, had dived right in. His bone attacks were controlled and organized, taking out enemies without the threat of injuring an ally. The fact that Papyrus was able to simultaneously let loose bone attacks with such precision and do the same with blasters of his own without even looking left Sans with a sense of awe and pride. Even one of Papyrus’s blasters suddenly materialized beside him, taking out an attack Sans had left himself open to. Sans focused back on his surroundings and patted the massive skull. “Thanks, bro,” he muttered as the skull disappeared. “I can take it from here.”

Where his brother had finesse, Sans had raw power. He reached out with his magic, turning every soul his magic touched blue. There was a brief flash of worry as he started clamping down on souls. Would he be able to tell the difference between the creatures and his allies or would they be indistinguishable under his magic?

It turned out to be a non-issue. The first time he moved people out of the way, he was startled to see no creatures caught up in the blue magic. He happily disintegrated the open targets. The second time, he actually focused and discovered something that made his figurative skin crawl.

The creatures had souls but the souls were and weren’t there, as if each soul of every creature Gaster had brought with him was on the brink between existing and not. Sans was at least grateful he didn’t have to work more that he had to when using the blasters in such a way. He was already straining.

Though full of raw magic, it was extremely difficult to control and maintain a steady stream of over an extended period of time and he found his magic draining far faster than he would have liked.

His blasters suddenly shattered and Sans crashed to his knees from the backlash. Sweat beading his brow and body shaking, Sans tried to reign in what magic remained.

Movement to his left forced him to dodge a melee attack from one of the creatures. He’d let himself get surrounded.

Bones embedded each creature as he spun, making sure each attack hit the intended mark. The souls that were there and yet not dusted on impact but the bodies of the creatures seemed to disintegrate and liquefy at the same time. Sans flinched as splash back splattered his clothes and face as his shoes slid in the liquid remains. He rubbed at the splatter on his cheek, making a face at the substance. “Ok, that’s just gross,” he voiced to no one in particular. Oh how he wished he could just use his blasters indefinitely. A glance at Papyrus, though, showed that Papyrus was covered in whatever these creatures turned into with death and that the blasters Papyrus was using had settled on a specific count and were doing short, precise blasts. Sans envied his brother’s tactical mindset.

Turning back at the swarm closing in around him, Sans gave them all a grin as he pulled at the world, appearing high above the mass of creatures. A quick brush of magic confirmed that there were no allies blended in with the hoard beneath him as he started to fall back towards the ground. His grin grew as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. An obscene amount of bones shot out of the ground, impaling the majority of the hoard but a small number got lucky. Sans moved his arm, a barrage of bones appearing around him in the air. He snapped again and the bones rained down on the surviving creatures. He pulled at the world before he could fall much farther. His shoes squelched in the remains but he kept his footing with ease.

With an unobscured view of the battlefield, he was nearly re-acquainted with dinner.

Bodies, dust, and the liquid like remains of the creatures made the grass turn into a muddy mess, dust, blood, and creature remains creating a sort of tar like substance that clung to everything and made it even harder to move. But what made him want to vomit the most were the human remains that stayed behind instead of dusting like monster forms did. What remained of the humans was the perfect indicator on just how vicious and vile the creatures actually were.

“They’ve breached the lab!”

Sans’s magic turned to ice on his bones at the cry. Sans spun around, taking in the massive hole in the front of the lab. There was still a line of monsters and humans holding the creatures back but it wasn’t going to be enough. The line was already within the lab walls. One good push from the creatures and all would be lost.

He sneered. Throwing him magic outward, blue bones erupted between the horde and those holding the line, effectively killing a number of the creatures and blocking the hole in the process.

Sans staggered. He wouldn’t be able to hold it for much longer. He had used the Gaster blasters for too long, had been fighting too hard.

“Sans!”

His head whipped around, finding Papyrus running towards him. Two creatures launched themselves at the lankier skeleton but Papyrus didn’t even spare them a glance, sending a bone through each. Sans winced and focused back on his attack. The creatures were pounding on the bones, trying to get through, but they were killing themselves or their fellow creature as they started to try and scale the things to get in. Blue bones were meant to do damage on moving creatures and stationary blue bones meant that stationary creatures weren’t getting through. But blue bones took a lot of magic and far more concentration when not used in brief bursts.

Magic flared at his side as Papyrus came to a stop beside him. All the monsters and humans between them and the gaping hole were picked up by Papyrus’s blue magic and suspended above the creatures high enough that Sans had a clear opening. With his brother’s own magical attack blended with him, a combination of blue and white bone attacks flooded their way from the temporarily patched hole in the wall, ending when the last creature between them and the lab was taken out. All of his magical attacks dissipated including the constructs that had been obscuring the hole in the lab and Sans crashed to his hands and knees gasping for air. He was aware of Papyrus carefully putting everyone down but that was the extent of what he could make beyond the black spots trying to take over his vision. He nearly jumped when Papyrus’s hand settled on his shoulder blade.

The groan he let out was nearly obscene as his brother’s magic rushed into him. The spots vanished and his brain caught on to what his brother was doing. Jerking away, he ended up on his rump even as he grabbed at Papyrus’s wrist. “Pap-“

“I’ll be fine, Sans,” Papyrus informed him in equal parts stern and gentle. He clasped Sans’s forearm in turn and resumed his magic transfer. “The blasters drain you far more than they do me. I have plenty of magic to not only give you, but to keep yourself and others safe as well.”

Sans smiled weakly at his brother but before he could tell his brother just how cool he thought the other was, movement over his brother’s shoulder caught his attention. His pupils vanished as his magic flared and he reflexively tightened his grip on Papyrus as he teleported them out of danger. The gaping hole in the lab arched over their heads as Sans watched a clawed, inky sludge hand slam into the ground where they had been standing only a moment before. Magic flared from his left socket as he watched Gaster’s size diminish rapidly with the last of the creatures spilling out. Gaster dragging himself to the spot the brothers had just left to become a pile of inky sludge, the white mask-like face failing to hold its oval shape completely with the motion. Globs dripped off and floated about in ways that defied the laws of gravity only to be reabsorbed after floating for a short while. It was a flicker – like a trick of the light – but Sans swore he saw parts of Gaster actually glitch, distorting in places only to realign. Sans shoved at Papyrus’s side, urging the skeleton into the lab as Gaster’s face turned towards them and the cracked smile turned into a warped grin. Sans threw up a renewed wall of blue bones, Papyrus throwing up a second wall of blue bones just behind Sans’s. Hopefully it would be enough to by them some time.

There was the sound of shattering bone from the far side and Sans winced as a chunk of his attack was taken out.

“So much for that idea,” Sans offered with a weak smile. “Too many cracks.”

“Sans,” Papyrus groaned. “No.”

Sans chuckled.

Another sound of shattering bone and the majority of what remained of Sans’s attack was taken out. Sans turned to those standing about, preparing to defend the Lab, and ordered, “Get everyone out the back and loop back around to the grounds to finish off the stragglers. We’ve got this.”

The monsters and humans complied with surprising ease and efficiency, quickly fleeing deeper into the Lab to get out again. The skeletons readied their magic as a portion of Papyrus’s attack shattered into used magic and Gaster’s face appeared between the bars of bone. Another swipe and the entire barrier fell.

Sans summoned two blasters as Papyrus summoned three and all five went off at once, slamming into the single point that was Gaster’s face. There was a screech almost like high pitched static that scrapped like nails on chalkboard in Sans’s skull. He flinched and his blasters shattered. Papyrus grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and pulled.

A tendril sharpened to a deadly point slammed into the floor where Sans had been standing, embedding itself into the floor so deep that Sans would have been bored through till nothing was left had Papyrus not acted so quickly. Sans rotated in the air, landing hard on his feet but staying upright. His brother, as always, had a bit more finesse to his landing but that was to be expected of the armored Royal Guard that his brother was.

Said armor saved his life not a second later.

Sans hadn’t even seen the attack coming but from one instance to the next Papyrus went from standing beside him to being thrown into the far wall. Sans automatically glanced towards Papyrus, taking in that his brother was most likely bruised but otherwise unharmed, before instantly regretting the motion. He pulled at the world as he turned about; the world reforming with his back to the roof till gravity took hold of him again. He had gotten lucky. Another tendril had embedded itself into the floor where he had been standing and had he not teleported when he had, he would be dust. Again.

Apparently Gaster was on to his disappearing act as five tendrils were sent his way. He dodged the first three with ease. He barely dodged the fourth, teleporting away as his sternum stun. An all too familiar slash through the front of his shirt and jacket caused him to catch the fifth in the pelvis. As fluid and goopy as Gaster looked, those sharpened tendrils were like razors, slicing through his bones like they were butter. It didn’t stay imbedded, thankfully. Sans pressed a hand against the puncture wound as he spun from the attack’s inertia and he used it to embed a white bone through the tendril into the ceiling, pinning the tendril there. It did nothing as the tendril only turned to goop and fell back down to Gaster.

Sans pulled at the world, skidding on the floor as his momentum transferred to the horizontal plane. His left leg gave out due to the pain in his hip. He hissed, suddenly very vulnerable.

His brother’s arms were around him and they were rolling sideways as three separate tendrils embedded themselves through furniture and into the wall or floor. Papyrus’s hands found their way to Sans’s injuries and there was a burst of green light. The healing magic was like living fire and Sans was healed in three seconds – which was good, seeing as that was the only reprieve they had.

Sans found himself airborne again but he went with it in style. Maintaining a tight pattern, Sans unleashed a volley of bones from above as his brother countered from the ground. Gaster was hit from what seemed to be all sides but the goopy entity didn’t seem to retain much damage. Sans appeared beside his brother, this time able to neutralize the change in velocity through the shift in location.

“It’s like we’re fighting a boss monster,” Sans ground out, already feeling the wear and tear of the prolonged fight getting to him again. Every bone ached for rest and it was all he could do to keep his magic at such a high level; he was running out of reserve stamina. He had been exhausted before Gaster decided to come say hi in person. “Our attacks are doing nothing.”

Papyrus grabbed his arm but Sans pulled at the world and dragged Papyrus to a different location. Gaster seemed to have anticipated their move. Papyrus reacted faster than Sans did and Sans found himself deposited on the other side of the room on the upper walkway, Papyrus within reach. Papyrus crashed to his hands and knees, shaking. Near panic gripped his soul as Sans gripped his brother’s arm. Words poured off his tongue as he tried to process the fact that Papyrus had just teleported them. “Pap, come on. This is no time for a freak out.”

“Sorry,” Papyrus responded, getting up. Sans went with him and they dashed for the nearest door. Tendrils slammed into the wall behind them and ahead of them. Sans pulled at the world, moving in short bursts in an attempt to avoid being impaled again.

Papyrus leapt over and slid under tendrils as needed. It left Sans impressed by his brother’s ability to move in such ways and disappointed in himself for not being able to handle such physical movement.

That is till panic nearly made Sans trip into an incoming tendril.

He had watched Papyrus jerk back, face marred by a sneer and a touch of pain as a tendril caught the front of his neck leaving a gash that had Sans remembering things he didn’t want to remember.

A white bone impaled the tendril that had missed Sans by a hair and it spurred Sans back into action. Papyrus was still alive and now was not the time to get himself killed over old fears.

H wee slammed the door open when he reached it first, stumbling when it gave far easier than he had expected. It was in his favor as a tendril shot over his head and he quickly moved to the side as it slammed downward. Papyrus wrapped his lanky arms around him and pulled, forcing both of them to dive into the left hallway. Gaster screamed in frustration.

Sans took off down the hallway, Papyrus on his heels. They had quite a bit of ground to cover before they would be able to go a different direction, let alone to a different wing, and sadly the area Gaster had attacked was perpendicular to the hallway they were in.

The wall erupted with spikes as Gaster released a volley of attacks without being able to see them. Tendrils were pulled back only to be shot through the hallway again at seemingly random intervals. Sans grabbed at Papyrus and pulled at the world.

Gaster screamed again.

Sans took the lead when the end of the hallway a floor above formed around them, booking it into the west wing.

He didn’t dare use magic again.

They stopped near the middle of the west wing on the fifth floor, the top floor. Only thing above them was the roof. Sans collapsed against the wall, gasping for breath, but he wasn’t completely out of steam to not return to his previous worry as Papyrus sank to the floor beside him. “What happened back there? When you had teleported us, what happened?”

Papyrus shook his head, gaze on his hands. “I don’t know.”

Sans put his hand out, palm up. “Give me your hand.” Papyrus hesitated but Sans wasn’t having any of it. “We don’t have time for this, Papyrus. Give me your hand. I have to check.”

Papyrus took his hand and Sans sent a burst of magic through his brother. They both flinched at the rough invasion but it was the only way Sans could get a quick but solid understanding of his brother’s magical standings.

It was a mess.

While there was still so much magic housed in his brother’s body, the teleportation had done some serious damage to Papyrus’s magical system. There was a distortion that Sans wasn’t sure he even knew how to fix and Papyrus was now losing magic as if his system had a leak somewhere. If they didn’t end this quick, they would both be out of magic and in more trouble than they already were.

Sans didn’t get the chance to voice this to Papyrus and, in hindsight, Papyrus probably understood the situation already.

A thick tendril crashed through the ceiling and slapped into them, sending them through the floor. Papyrus’s immediate reaction protected Sans from the brunt of the attack. They slammed into the floor of the fourth level but the tendril kept going, shoving them beyond the fourth floor through the third, second, and first, into the first level of subfloors. Papyrus groaned as Sans shifted out from under his brother to look up.

His sockets widened and he blindly pulled at the world as he dragged his brother along. They appeared on the other side of Gaster as the mass of goop collided with the point they had been at, parts of Gaster splattering everywhere. Briefly suspended in the air above Gaster, Sans let off a series of attacks, unintentionally pulling on his brother’s magic with his arm still firmly around Papyrus’s ribs, and managed to land a good number that he hoped did some actual damage. Downside was that it drew Gaster’s attention and Sans was forced to pull at the world again despite the need to counter gravity’s pull.

Either Gaster knew where Sans was going to appear or Sans was becoming predicable because as Sans reoriented himself with where he had dragged them, the first thing he saw was a sharpened tendril almost touching him.

He pulled at the world again as Papyrus released several bone constructs in a desperate attempt to give them time.

“Get inside,” Sans spoke, the stout skeleton’s hand fisted in the back of his leather jacket as a guide off of Papyrus’s back, “help with the shut down, then get as far away from here as you can. We’ll keep the attackers out of the lab as best we can. You just make sure it’s not going to explode if they do.”

Alex gave a brisk nod before slipping through the side entrance. The task of shutting down the multiple generators was a hardy one. Nearly every major lab within the all encompassing Lab name had its own generator. Some even had multiple, his and Sans’s lab being a fine example of that. They had a pair of turbine generators used for mixing elements and generating power as well as four isolated generators in case of power failure. Only down side was that any generator on – which most backup generators were to some extent due to some experiments’ temperaments – could easily become a bomb with the right kind of outside influence. Brute force was a great start. Piercing the machinery was another.

He made it to the first batch of generators as a siren blared to life. He jumped, gaze snapping to the pulsing red lights. His heart was in his throat as the voice echoed from the emergency signal.

“Imminent overload detected. All personnel, shut down all generators and evacuate the building. I repeat: Imminent overload detected. All personnel, shut down all generators and evacuate the building. No generator is to be left on. Flee if in immediate danger. Imminent overload detected. All personnel, shut down all generators and evacuate the building.”

The announcement continued as he turned his attention to the lab techs. He recognized none of their faces but they seemed to recognize him.

“We’ve got it in here, Alex,” one of the techs called out, the last generator shutting down. “Head down to the main generators. We’ll make sure the rest on this floor are shut down.”

He gave a sharp nod even as his chest felt too tight. They were safe, they were fine. He had nothing to worry about.

He covered the heart monitor on his wrist as it started beeping softly at him.

“Be quick and try to avoid whatever is attacking the lab.”

“Flee if in immediate danger,” echoed his sentiments.

The technicians nodded, determination settling in their expressions.

He took off down the hall, people running this way and that, most with determined expressions despite the fear and panic coloring the edges. Other traits kept fear and panic at bay but Alex couldn’t focus on the faces passing him anymore. He was already having a hard time breathing and noticing the number of strangers was not helping. He pressed on, determination be damned; perseverance was his soul trait for a reason and it wasn’t about to let him down now.

The beeping from his wrist got louder and faster.

The main power generators were in the largest lower level space available in all of Snowdin Lab. Six massive generators, each on its own isolated system, were still filling the massive space with noise.

A face he half recognized approached him and relief filled the turmoil in his chest.

He still couldn’t breathe.

“Generator Five,” the half recognized person ordered, gesturing to the farthest generator down the left column. “They should be starting its shutdown sequence once you get there.”

“And the other generators?”

A part of the humming started to gradually change pitch in the space and they both looked over to see the first generator on the left start to slow down.

“Handled. Now hurry.”

Alex took off running.

He situated himself at Generator Five’s large console controls once he arrived, taking up the last free space available.

“Initializing shutdown sequence,” someone shouted from behind him. “Beginning sector isolation and stabilization.”

Ingrained training kicked in and he automatically flipped switches to divert power and compensate for the fluctuation about to be caused for his section. The others on the large console controls around him were mirroring his actions for their sections.

“Sector Three stabilized,” the person to his left shouted over the noise.

“Sector Two stabilized,” he shouted as he got a number of green lights and dials in the necessary areas, the person to his right shouting at the same time, “Sector One stabilized.”

“Sector Four stabilized,” came the final shout farther to his left.

“Generator in the green,” was faint behind him.

“Shutdown sequence proceeding. Turbine in free spin.”

There was a noise from the generator beyond the console bay and the pitch began to gradually change. As much as that was a celebration in and of itself, they weren’t out of the woods quite yet. He watched his section, the dials twitching and feeds fluctuating but nothing was abnormal.

“Sector Three green,” came from his left.

“Sector Two green,” he added.

“Sector One green,” was quickly followed by, “Sector Four green.”

“Siphoning off power. Applying breaking system.”

The pitch of the generator started to shift faster but there were no changes to his readings. It was a long minute before he heard the much needed words: “Turbine stopped and locked. Generator Five is off.”

He sighed, sagging in his chair as his section of console went dark. There were a few cheers from those around him but he wasn’t celebrating just yet.

Generator Four was still running while Generator One had yet to stop completely. Generators Two and Three were whining against the braking systems but slowing. He set out to help with Four as two of those that had been with him on Five headed to One.

Alarms were blaring from the console and at least two sections were not stabilizing as they were supposed to. There were commands being shouted and Alex took half a second to see if there was anything he could do to help.

The half remembered person that had greeted him at the door was shoving him to one of the sector controls. “Take over. I have the other one.”

He didn’t say anything, simply went with the command and tapped the other scientist out. The scientist looked far too relieved to be trading out as a rumble filled the space that had nothing to do with the generators.

“They’ve breached the lab entrance!”

His hands stilled, his mind suddenly filled with worry. No, they needed more time. Surely Sans and Papyrus...Sans and....

“Come on, Fatum! Don’t quit on me yet!”

The shout was almost in his left ear and he flinched away as he came back to the present. It seemed like everything was screaming at him and he quickly started typing out commands and flipping switches in an attempt to get ahead of the mess he had let fester.

Slowly lights became green and dials returned to the needed zones. He heard the faint shout from his left of Sector Four stabilizing but it wasn’t enough to break his attention away from his task.

The last light turned green as the final dial fell into the proper zone and he rushed, “Sector Three stabilized!”

“Generator in the green!” There was a slight panic in the urgency of the words shouted behind him.

“Shutdown sequence proceeding! Turbine in free spin!”

It seemed the entire area held its breath as things flickered to red in the different sectors. His didn’t fall back into green like it should have and he started countering the errors popping up.

More errors started to appear as the sound of Generator One vanished. Generator Four was the last one to be shut down.

“Get everyone not needed out, now!” the person to his left commanded as he frantically worked to get Sector Three green. “We’ll follow as soon as we have this one shut down!”

“Sector Three,” came the strangled shout from behind him. “I need you in green!”

“I’m trying!” he snapped, his words holding a frantic edge to them. The person to his left moved closer, hands filling in spaces his left behind. It took a few desperate seconds before they found a rhythm around each other before, one by one, things started returning to green.

The last one came into the needed zone and he stabbed a button, shouting, “Sector Three green!”

“Siphoning off power! Applying breaking system!”

The pitch of the generator started to shift faster. His readings fluctuated and, for a moment, he feared the worst.

“Turbine stopped and locked. Generator Four is off.”

The entire room seemed to sigh in relief as everything went dark. Alex draped himself over the dark console, letting out a shaky breath. His heart was pounding in his ribs so hard that it hurt. His wrist was still beeping incensantly at him.

“Alright everyone,” the person to his left – the person he half recognized – directed, standing. “Let’s get out. Double check labs as you go.”

There were rings of acknowledgments from those present and Alex pushed himself to his feet. The person he half recognized laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Go via the medical labs and offices. Make sure your friends there got out.”

He frowned, not understanding for the moment it took for his brain to dredge up the yellow dinosaur monster that he had interacted with a few times and the fish monster that was usually around her. He nodded, giving the other’s hand a squeeze. “See you in a bit, then.”

The person gave him a brisk nod before hurrying after the others.

He stood in the dimly lit generator room for a moment, his heart still not back to a normal rate. He covered the watch style heart monitor hoping to stifle its beeping. Turning, he took off towards the medical area with the hope of not finding anyone there.
A left turn a good number of minutes later had him running into one of the creatures from outside – literally. His momentum shoved them both forward and the thing liquefied when he landed on top of it. The other creatures were quick to take notice of his presence and leap at him. He didn’t even have time to flinch as each one lost its form as teal spears pinned them to the ground. The spears vanished with a shout of his name from somewhere beyond his head. He pushed himself onto an elbow ignoring the black substance sticking to his clothing and skin and found a hand offered to him. He looked up to find Undyne grinning at him and despite his lack of memory about her, he gladly took hold of her proffered hand and the aiding pull to his feet. Her grip was nearly painful on his arms as he slipped about in the goop.

“Oh thank g-goodness,” Alphys stuttered, rushing over from where there were others huddled near some room. The pain in his chest flared. “You g-gave us quite the f-fright th-there, Alex.”

The world suddenly spun and he wasn’t sure if his legs were holding him up or if the touches that burned were dragging him down. He tried to scream, to shout, but he couldn’t even breathe as his world erupted in pain.

Something was screaming, like an emergency alarm of some kind.

It was a while before he came back to reality, the pain slowly losing potency in his chest but not going away. He rubbed at his sweaty face with a shaking hand that weighed far more than it should. He slowed his breathing, determined to get it back under control. It took longer than he would have liked.
His heart wasn’t slowing down and the pain hadn’t gone away.

He opened his eyes.

“A-Alex?”

Alex lulled his head towards the voice and Alphys’s face swam into view. He frowned at her before forcing himself upright despite the way his muscles screamed. Hands hovered near him but didn’t touch. Alex swallowed, finding his throat dry. “Wha…” He coughed, the word hoarse and weak. “What happened?”

Had he been screaming?

“You collapsed,” Undyne stated, taking a small step back. Alex took his glasses from Alphys’s shaking hand. “Alphys?”

“Are y-you still in p-pain?” the yellow monster asked Alex in lieu of answering Undyne.

“Yes,” Alex croaked. He rubbed at his throat trying to swallow again. “My heart won’t seem to slow down either.”

Alphys’s expression hardened and had his heart not already been in his throat, it would have dropped to his stomach. “I’m sorry, Alex. The best I can give you is t-two hours. Maybe four.”

Alex felt a strange numbness settle over him, changing his expression as the meaning behind her words dawned on him.

“Wait, what?” Undyne asked, not understanding. “Alphys, what–”

Her words cut off but the rest of her question was obvious. Alphys took her glasses off and twirled them in a nervous gesture, watching as the frame and glass caught the light. Alex found himself equally transfixed by the nervous gesture, hyperaware of his bare wrist. “Alex suffered a...a heart attack of sorts. Half of his heart will not f-function properly anymore. I-It’s only a matter of time before it s-stops completely.”

“There’s nothing you can do?” Undyne asked, sounding strained. Alphys looked up at her with tears in her eyes but it was Alex who responded.

"I had a heart attack this morning and have pushed my body too hard. I'm not surprised my borrowed time has finally caught up with me." He slid off the bed. His eyes were hard behind his glasses as he met Undyne's gaze. “I was a dead man walking when I was born and there has been nothing anyone could have done for me for just as long. But now that I have a definitive amount of time left, I’m going to make the most of it.”

He stepped around them both. Undyne’s hand snapped out, wrapping around his wrist. His steady gaze settled on her and she lost the ferocity she had been about to use. Instead, she softly asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Protect what family I have left.” He slipped his wrist from her grip. “All of it; including the parts that I can’t remember.”

He turned and ran out before anyone else could stop him. He had to make sure Sans and Papyrus made it out of this situation alive before he succumbed to his own limitations. And if he happened to help those that were trapped in the lab get out, then he would die with no regrets.

No regrets, beyond leaving behind his family like this.

He climbed up to the same floor where the catwalks for all the labs were and used the catwalks to scour the lab for the brothers. He knew the fighting had entered through the main lab entrance so he figured it was best to start there.

He burst through a door onto a catwalk slamming into the rail opposite the door. He leaned over the railing with the momentum, looking down as the sound of something breaking filled the room.

To his utter surprise, Sans and Papyrus were on the first floor, doing what they could to stay alive against something that made Alex’s entire being revolt against staying there. Terror adhered his feet to the walkway.

The ink blob of sludge that was attacking the brothers seemed impervious to the brothers’ attacks and it took all he had to look away and take in the lab they were fighting in.

It was his and Sans’s lab. Surprise shot through Alex as his quick mind started forming a plan and then some. Despite the terror that froze his feet, his mind was still as sharp as ever and whether it was intentional or not, the brothers were leading Gaster towards the pair of twin turbine generators. Or, more specifically, between them.

Conventional or not, he and Sans used the two generators to blend the atmosphere and their test sample. It was all gaseous anyways and it wasn’t like it was harming the equipment anyways. That all could be cleaned and replaced as needed; which brought an idea to mind. It was risky but if the brothers could keep Gaster’s attention, it could work.

He ran to the nearest service ladder secured to the wall and slid down it as a plan formed around his idea, steps outlining themselves before his feet hit the bottom. It was a foolish plan, one that would cost him and Sans a great deal in their research but it could save so many lives.

He started slamming buttons and flipping switches, inputting commands and starting sequences as he got things turned on and running. There was a low rumble as one set of turbine, then the next started up, picking up speed and increasing in pitch and volume as the rest of the machine came to life. The ink blob of goop either didn’t give it any heed or didn’t care as the whine of other machines joined in.

Sans did.

For the briefest of moments, Alex caught Sans’s gaze and grinned at him, giving him a thumbs up that was surprisingly steady, what with how much adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Sans gave him a frantic look before the inky blob of goop got in the way. Alex hurried off to the last station as he started up their last experiment. It was the only way he could guarantee that the system did not jam from what he was about to do.

The power levels started to stabilize as he gathered an assortment of tools. As he shoved the last one in his pocket, the last level turned green and the system was ready to receive the test compound. All he needed to do now was get the compound in the machine. Alex moved away from the terminal and to the nearest lever. He caught a glimpse of the brothers in between the two generators losing ground as they were pushed back towards the main machine. He could make out the panic on their faces and it made his chest clench in a panic. He pulled with all his might on the first lever.

One of two panels on the turbine unit slid open, the air rushing passed him as one part of the twin turbine was exposed to the area the brothers and goop were in. He jammed one of the tools into it, forcing it to stay open despite the spring and anti-locking fail safes.

He dodged a wayward tendril and rolled sloppily to the other turbine. He scrambled to his feet and pulled at the lever there.

One of two panels on the second turbine unit slid open and the amount of air rushing passed increased, whipping at him as if to tempt him towards the center. He dragged himself away from the torrent of moving air only to stumble into the still air on the backside of the turbine unit. He took off running. A glance towards the goop mass revealed that the entity didn’t seem to care about the sudden pull of air.

He couldn’t breathe but it didn’t matter. He had to make sure that his sacrifice and the sacrifice of all that he and Sans had worked so hard on would rid the world of Gaster without taking one of the brothers at the same time.

Just two more levers, two more and they would be free.

He came to the first of the final levers. Sans and Papyrus were briefly parallel to the lever till a well aimed tendril forced them to retreat even more. Except there was nowhere to retreat to and Alex’s voice died in his throat as another attack assaulted the brothers.

Papyrus took a sharpened tendril through the shoulder and through the hip where the plate armor had been ripped away from earlier attacks, slicing through the sudden bone defense he had erected like it had been nothing more than paper.

It had been enough to keep Sans from taking any damage from the barrage.

Sans took the brunt of Papyrus’s weight as the lankier skeleton collapsed, the tear in Sans’s shirt becoming prominent as it gaped open in his attempt to keep his brother from hitting the floor.

Alex yanked at the lever.

The handle snapped.

He cussed. Whatever colorful language he had used was lost to the sound of rushing air and static as he stumbled backwards, broken lever in hand. Nothing on his person was strong enough to replace the lever handle.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

A resounding thud and a pair of pained cries jerked his attention to the right. He watched the brothers collapse to the floor, a sizable dent in the heavy plating of the machine itself. Sans seemed to be fighting to keep some form of coherency but from where Alex stood, it looked like Papyrus had been knocked unconscious. He was proven wrong when the lanky skeleton shook himself as Sans tried to get them both to their feet as the mass recoiled.

The tendril that had slammed them into the machine reshaped into a point as the brothers shifted about and it was very clear what was going to happen next.

Alex moved without thinking.

His feet ate up the short distance between him and the brothers. His shoes skidded on the smooth floor as he threw his arms out to either side facing the creature head on as that very same tendril shot towards them.

It was a war they knew they couldn’t win. Gaster was far stronger than them both combined and they had known that going into this but Sans had never once fathomed that he would ever have a glimmer of hope of actually beating the monster that had caused him and his family such pain until Alex grinned at him.

At first, panic had filled him at seeing Alex so close to danger, but when it seemed Gaster didn’t care for what Alex was doing, Sans did.

And it was brilliant.

It took nothing to keep Gaster focused on him and Papyrus. The blob seemed far too interested in them to care that machines were coming to life, that the panels were moving to expose the spinning turbines.

Despite the good intentions of keeping Gaster’s attention, Sans found himself getting overwhelmed, Papyrus barely a step ahead of him. A well placed slap of a tendril and Sans was seeing stars, sinking to the floor with his back against the body of the machine. He tried to fight the darkness that was tearing at him, tried to get Papyrus to move but the tendril was sharpening to a deadly point and Sans knew they were out of time.

A sickening squelching filled the air as his left cheek started to sting.

Blood splattered to the floor pooling rapidly at Alex's feet as the human curled forward on the tendril burrowed through his chest as thick as the man's thigh when it stopped. Sans stared in horror with sockets void of eyelights as the razor sharp tip ghosted against Sans’s face beneath his left eye. Warm blood slowly dripped from the tendril to Sans’s face and shoulder for the breath that it hovered by his face.

The tendril jerked back and retracted, dropping Alex in the pool of blood.

There was a strange disconnect in Sans's brain as he stared at the gapping hole in Alex's chest where a heart should be. His breath rattled through him as he felt Papyrus grab at his shirt, a ringing in his skull that faintly reminded him of screaming. Papyrus yanked him back and Sans suddenly found it easy to tear his gaze away from the body as a chuckle low and distorted echoed through his skull, drowning out the ringing. Gaster had reared back and up into his full height, grinning. “PitY tHe HumAN DiED. SuCH a waISt Of An iNTeRestINg ExPEriMEnT.”

Wrath surged through him so hot, he almost mistook it for the magic that poured through him in the same instance. Blinded by it all, he pushed his magic out to the sides. It slammed into the two remaining levers and wrapped securely around both despite one missing most of its handle. Papyrus’s magic pooled with his. With a shared scream, they shoved the levers down.

The paneling on the generators snapped open.

Sans reached for Alex’s body as the air was suddenly sucked towards the set of turbines but he had no magic left to gap the distance between him and the body being dragged away. Papyrus was there in his stead, long arm reaching beyond him to carefully protrude bones out of the ground between Alex and Gaster. Alex’s body bumped up against them but moved no more.

Gaster screamed as he was pulled in two directions, seeming to keep from being sucked in till the turbines gained a purchase on his physical matter. The moment that happened, it was like someone had pressed fast forward and Gaster was swallowed by the machine in a matter of seconds regardless of how hard the creature struggled.

The panels snapped closed.

Gaster was gone.

It felt like he was in a daze just staring at the point where Gaster had been. There was movement along his peripheral but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Someone stepped into his line of sight and it wasn’t till they squatted that he realized it was Undyne. She looked terrible.

“Hey,” she spoke softly. "I need to get you two out of here.”

“No,” slipped out before he could even register her statement and it broke something in him. A choked sob shook his body as the tears suddenly sprung forward, falling heavily from his sockets. He pressed a hand to his mouth, his other hand clenching desperately at the tear in his shirt as despair tried to drown him.

He couldn’t breathe – couldn’t think as he was swallowed up and tossed around by the grief that was quickly overtaking him. With no magic left to his name, he prayed to whatever was listening that he shattered into dust then and there, to never have to feel this again.

The arms that wrapped around him were too tight, too stiff, and too familiar, but he couldn’t do anything to push his brother away. The only thing that seemed to cut through any of it was a series of beeps and chimes that drew his attention from a trained response of years of repeated process.

“The experiment,” he croaked, finally pushing away from Papyrus. He stumbled as he stood up but he brushed away the hands that reached out for him.

It took everything he had not to glance towards where Alex’s body should have been. Even as out of it as he was, he could hear the moving of bodies in that general area and he didn’t want to know who was tending to the mess.

Instead, he marched over to the terminal currently chiming away at him as Alphys came hurrying over from somewhere. He glanced her way and a faint part of him prayed she hadn’t seen any of the aftermath.

He mentally flinched from the sudden clear memory of Alex's body and ruefully pushed it away.

“Hey, Alphys,” he spoke, his voice still raw. “Do me a solid and hop on that other terminal, would ya? I need a second set of eyes for this next part.”

She nodded and hurried over to the other chair.

He went about inputting a few commands, watching as her terminal came to life and started to chime too. It took very little brain power to utilize the practiced motions of keeping the process going, getting the elements added together and blended in a way that could be made into a gas that would blend with the final sample of atmosphere.

He made certain the compound that had been Gaster was properly isolated and only a small portion was removed for testing just in case they had to replicate anything should there be any significant readings.

“Compounds ready for injection,” Alphys announced.

Sans pushed himself away from the terminal and walked over to the lonely canister resting beside the proper front of the machine. He flicked open the canister port and locked the last canister in place. For a moment he stared at the canister of toxic Overworld atmosphere lost in a bewildered thought that they were wasting this because the only way they could defeat Gaster was to use the equipment. He bitterly hoped there were some decent results.

He walked over to the isolated terminal and pressed a button. A hiss sounded from the canister as the machine withdrew the air. The chair squeaked as he sat on the edge of it. A few clicks and a live video feed between him and Alphys appeared in the upper left. She looked at him as he started initializing sequences. “Let’s begin the purification test,” he spoke, pressing another set of buttons. “Transferring atmosphere to the trial tank.”

There was a breath.

“Trial tank full,” Alphys confirmed as he received the alert.

“Starting purification sequence with .0001 parts per 1000.” He pressed a button. Despite the toxic atmosphere of the Overworld and the vaporized solution having no color, he couldn’t help but look at the trial tank, hoping to see something.

Alphys’s voice cut through his thoughts and he focused back on the computer terminal before him. “Solution vapor fully integrated.” He started typing. “Saturation period has begun. Sample removal to be initiated in twenty seconds.”

A small countdown appeared in the upper right of his computer screen as he typed a few more keys before leaning back. Alphys turned away on her end of the video chat, talking with some of the lab workers that were coming back in to check on experiments. There was a low hum that joined the sounds of the lab. Sans glanced towards the other wall. The generators were being brought back online and systems that had relied on them were returning. Case in point, the amount of light in the room suddenly increased and there were a number of cheers from around the room.

“Sample removal initiated. Analysis process has begun.”

He sagged into the back of the chair as a progress bar appeared on his screen. He rubbed at his face before pushing forward again. Stopping would be bad. Stopping would let his mind wander. “Isolating and containing remaining substance. Prepping for next test.”

He tapped away, inputting commands here and there in different windows as the progress bar continued to fill at the top of his screen. A boney hand softly touched his shoulder and he glanced up at Papyrus briefly. “We’ve got about a minute before we start getting the results. It’ll be about three before the final results come in.”

The grip on his shoulder tightened but Papyrus offered no words.

Sans kept working, kept himself busy as the progress bar kept moving. If he stopped, if he gave himself a chance to be still, he didn’t think he would survive a second dance with the emotional turmoil rolling at the edge of his consciousness.

There was a chime that echoed from Alphys’s computer. His gaze flickered to her video feed as she came back into view. “Preliminary results are coming in. Two minutes until final results are in.”

“Thank you,” he responded on rote, clicking the pop-up.

It was a wall of text, letters and numbers blending in a way that an untrained eye wouldn’t understand. Having stared at these results for years, he knew what he was looking for, what numbers he needed before delving further. He felt Papyrus lean forward over his shoulder and a small part of him wondered if Papyrus understood any of it after so many years of watching him work.

The more he read, the larger his frown got. “That…can’t be right.”

He started typing in commands, opening new windows and closing others. Three more video feeds popped up on his screen as he caught sight of Alphys leaning out of frame. He could hear her calling to a few of the scientists milling about from across the lab and through the feed. He focused on the video feeds he had brought up. “Hey, I’m sending you guys the latest preliminary results from our current experiment. I need you guys to look it over and tell me I’m not going crazy.”

Each one wore some variation of confusion – and even one tried to get a word in edge wise – as they all affirmed their willingness in some fashion but Papyrus was drawing his attention from them.

“Sans? What’s going on?”

“I’m don’t-give me a few minutes to see, Pap.” He started typing again. “Extracting three samples. I’m rerunning our test but Kyle, Nien, can you two run diagnostic tests on a sample for me.”

They confirmed for him. A lab tech appeared at his side, young, anxious, and looking ready to bolt. The machine hissed in front of them as two small vials extended out of the machine. He nodded to the tech. They darted forward, hands carefully but securely wrapping around the two vials. The machine gave another sound and released the vials. The tech took off, faster than Sans had been anticipating. He turned back to the video feeds. “Samples on their way. Second analysis started.”

A new pop-up appeared on his screen as Alphys announced, “First analysis complete. Full report now available.”

“Tior, I’m sending you the full report to have another set of eyes on it.” His own eyes flickered to the first page but he forced himself to wait. “Take a look at it and then compare it to the results from the others. I need to know if there are any discrepancies that could be caused by a malfunction.”

The third nodded and he finally gave into reading the results. Already the noise coming from Alphys’s feed was increasing and it was hard to not just ask. He sped through the jargon of numbers and letters down to the field he desperately wanted to read.

Final Results: 100% of Toxins Neutralized

Cheering kicked up from the other side of the lab but something bitter swam through him and he barked, “Do not celebrate yet. We still have three other tests that need to be completed before we trust what we’re seeing.”

That cut through a lot of the joy. He found it difficult to feel guilty. He half watched Alphys agree with him. She was still grinning, though. Stars above he prayed that this wasn’t a false reading. He wasn’t sure he could watch everyone lose that kind of hope.

“Sans.”

His gaze flickered to Kyle. The human was as white as a sheet. “Sans, this…” The man ran a hand through his graying hair. “We got the same results. As far as our systems can tell, it’s fresh, pure air.”

“We’re getting the same results over here, too,” Nien spoke out. Unlike Kyle, the cat monster was grinning from ear to ear, whispers spread wide in excitement. “What did you use?”

“Tior?” he asked instead.

The stone monster came back into view, adjusting the petite glasses on his face. “I just got the results from the others. Unfortunately, I can’t view them on the screen so I’ve printed them out to compare.”

Sans shook his head. “Take your time and go through it all with a fine tooth comb. I know that’ll take a few hours but as long as you’ve got all of our results, that’s all I needed to hear.”

The stone monster settled into screen fully, taking those petite glasses off to give him a hard look. “Sans, why are you being so adamant about checking these results? You’ve never had anything come close to this kind of purification before.”

Sans rubbed his face. “Because this will only be the first hurtle.”

He got confused looks and even he didn’t really understand his own words till he thought about them. He noticed that there were quite a number of people watching him through Alphys’s feed.

“The compound we used as the neutralizing agent is very limited and I don’t currently know if we can even replicate it, let alone if it will be enough. Just because it can purify the Overworld air doesn’t mean we have access to the surface again. Because it’s such a finite resource, we will have to be careful with transportation and dispersal, not to mention everyone having to change gears and start working on how we’re going to go about that and letting the other Undergrounds know.”

Kyle shifted forward. “Approximately how much of the compound do you have?”

Sans shook his head. “Hopefully enough. We’ll have to crunch numbers and run a few more tests to see how far this stuff goes before we start celebrating anything. As of right now, preliminary results would state we need 530 billion particle weight but we’ll see just how much we have and how potent it is.”

“Preliminary results for the second test are coming in. Two minutes until final results are in,” Alphys chimed.

He started typing again. “Sending these to you guys.”

He brought it up himself, situating it alongside the first set of preliminary results. He skimmed both documents, sight seeking out specific lines and the more he read and compared, the more he found there to be no discrepancies. It was nearly an identical report and it was hard for him to even get mad at the excitement he could hear coming from Alphys’s end of the lab.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his face.

“Are they the same?” Papyrus asked, drawing his attention.

Sans gave him a tight smile. “Yeah, Pap. They’re the same. We may have found a cure for the Overworld.”

“Full report now complete,” Alphys’s quickly uttered over the video feed.

Sans was quick to send it out before going right to the field of text he wanted to read.

Final Results: 100% of Toxins Neutralized

The excitement from the other side of the lab turned into a cheer. It rose and rose till even the noises of the machines were drowned out by the sound. He could hear others coming in, word of the project’s success must have spread as fast as gossip did in the halls. Soon the lab was swarming with technicians and scientists till it seemed the whole of the Lab was in that one room. The bonus was now he suddenly had extra hands jumping in ready to work and he let himself be swept up by the bodies, taking charge and directing eager hands to work as they started to crunch numbers and celebrate even as groups of people were now pouring over the data sheets making sure these weren’t somehow false reports. From there they started crunching the numbers to figure out how much they needed, how much they had, and how potent it was.

He didn’t make it back to the house. By the time Asgore came through and ushered people to either home or bed, it was almost four in the morning. He wasn’t sure when Papyrus had left but a brief stop at his brother’s room found that the lankier skeleton had remained at the lab as well. The room was dark and empty but the dishes on the desk were still wet from whatever meal Papyrus had enjoyed before going off to train or work.

His own room was dark. Flicking the light on only made it appear sad and empty. He was tempted to just go about things in the dark so he couldn’t see the stark, barren space full of things.

He frowned. Odd. He hadn’t ever had an issue before. He dug through the dresser and picked at random. It wasn’t like it mattered overly much. He’d be up in a few hours anyways to get back to work. Maybe he could ask Alex-

He crashed to his knees, one arm on his bed out of a weak attempt to keep himself upright as the other pressed to his mouth. Bitter emotions rolled through him like violent magic and he choked; whether it was on a sob or the urge to vomit, he couldn’t tell. His entire body shook from the force of his grief and overwhelm as he gripped at the sheets on his bed, wails of despair barely muffled by the hand gripping at his face.

They had found it. They had found a way to neutralize the toxic atmosphere of the Overworld and all it cost them was Alex.

It had cost him Alex.

Rage and grief burned through him, churning his magic and forcing it to manifest around him. That burned more than anything and he fought against the pain in his chest as his magic crackled in the air and damaged nothing but himself.

And it hurt. It hurt so much, but it was barely a whisper of wind against his bones compared to the hole in his soul that grew larger with every involuntary repeat of Alex’s death. His own mind would not let him see anything else beyond that memory over and over again. With each time his partner, his friend, his family was impaled, it felt like he was being impaled too and he desperately, ruefully wished he could do it all over again and die in Alex’s place because he wasn’t sure he could live with the hole in his soul that Alex had left.

He wanted Alex back, to see the triumphant grin at finally finding the answer, to bury his hands in the other’s hair as he helped Alex through another fit, be there when Alex came out of surgery with a stronger heart, to grow old together.

He wanted Alex back.

He woke an hour later slumped against the side of his bed half dressed. His face felt raw and his bones felt heavy. His soul was strangely numb while his magic still burned but that was probably because he had spent what little he had regained while he had grieved.

Those emotions still sharp and ready to bite were only held back by the numbness in his soul. He forced himself up and changed back into work clothes - he did pick a new shirt out, at least. He wasn’t going to sleep so he might as well get to work. A glance at the clock informed him that it would be late enough for people to assume he had slept.

It was pushing it but a nap counted as ‘slept’, right? Besides, it wasn’t like there wasn’t a reason for his restlessness. They finally had a way to return to the Overworld.

He paused at his door and glanced back, sockets heavy with exhaustion and a pain he could not articulate.

He shook his head sharply to dislodge thoughts that threatened to drown him and stormed out of his room. Thinking about anything except the work that had to be done was only going to get in his way and cause him trouble. Best to just hunker down and get swept up in the work to come.

He had countless lives resting on his shoulders.

[ArtisticVicu]

March 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

“Shaving monkeys is my favorite pastime.“

He choked on the water, staring at her wide-eyed. "And I thought I was crazy,” he commented, passing back the canteen. “How in the world is shaving monkeys your favorite pastime.”

She grinned at him, taking the canteen but not drinking quite yet. “Ok, ok, so partial lie. Making other people shave monkeys is my favorite pastime.”

He smirked. “Aw, see? That makes more sense.”

She giggled and his smirk fell. It sounded slightly unhinged but, then, so had her random comment. His concern expression turned into a deep frown. “Rachel, who am I?”

“Discord, God of Chaos,” she rattled easily, all the while grinning at him. He noted that she seemed to be looking through him to whatever was behind him.

He tried another angle. “Rachel, what am I?”

“A traveler from another world,” she rattled just as easily, but that hadn’t been the answer he had hoped for. She knew what he was down to the molecule. He only appeared human because of her doing and she was actively in his head because of it. “And my best friend.”

He blinked at her, thrown off by that. “B…Best friend?” he asked, his mind unwittingly pulling up memories of another that had called him that, one that was soft spoken and sweet, always putting up with him even as the disaster that he was normally.

He shook his head. He’d come back to that later. “Rachel.” She looked up at his face, blinking. Concern constricted his chest. Her eyes were slightly glazed. “What do we desire?”

This…was an unfair question, one that would - in normal circumstances - get him smacked or at least get her to comment on how “their desire” was not a singular desire but several desires that some were shared and some that were not. But, seeing as his hunch was correct in that something was wrong, Rachel merely blinked again before stating with a giggle, “To see all the people shave monkeys.”

She went into a laughing fit as if that was the most hilarious thing ever. Discord couldn’t find the humor. He stood up, looking around. Oh, if only she hadn’t bound his magic this would be so much easier.

“Can’t unbind the magic,” she chimed, almost singing the words. He focused back on her. Had she just read his thoughts or was he speaking out loud? “And the words are in your head, silly,” she playfully chided, waving at him. He blinked at her before suddenly becoming very tempted at using the situation to his advantage. Well, till a thought came to mind.

“Are you drunk?” he blurted out.

She blinked at him before giggling. “You have to consume alcohol to get drunk, silly,” she said, the edge of her words now becoming slightly slurred. “You’re funny.”

He reached over and touched her forehead. Even with it being such a poor way of finding out if she had a fever or not, Discord nearly recoiled at the heat. He scooped her up as he grumbled, “We have to find you some place to rest. You’re not well.”

She was a giggly ball of squirming body, acting almost like a five year old they had seen in the previous town from a week ago. “But I don’t want to stop. We need to keep moving.” Her giggles didn’t subside. His grip on her tightened marginally as he picked a random direction.

“Any place we can whole up for the night, then?” he asked, trying to get her to help.

She let out another string of giggles and pointed - thankfully - in the direction they were going. “They’re baking cookies.”

While that didn’t tell him squat about how far they had to go, it gave him a direction to move in.

The minutes turned into hours and when she suddenly stopped talking, the onslaught of panic in his veins froze his steps to the ground. He looked down at her, shifting her enough to press the back of his hand to her forehead again. He couldn’t gauge if there was a difference or not. “Rachel?” he asked, concern nearly breaking his voice on her name.

“I’m tired,” she muttered.

“Rachel, I need you to tell me how far out we are from the cookies.”

She frowned, though it was only slight in her exhaustion. “Cookies?”

“Yes,” he urged. “You mentioned someone was baking cookies.”

Her eyes slid close for longer than he was comfortable with but, just as he was about to call her name, they opened again and her arm was moving to point where he had been walking. “They made cookies,” she spoke, the words lulling together.

“How far?” he pleaded as her arm dropped limp.

Her expression twisted into the tired equivalent of extreme concentration. “Not very.”

He rolled his eyes, anger briefly coming forward in the situation he had no skills of handling. “Not very,” he grumbled, starting to walk. “That is not a dist-”

He stepped around a tree and his words died on his lips. There, across what could count as a decent lawn, sat a cottage. Or, at least, the closest thing to a cottage this world had. He would have wept for joy if he hadn’t suddenly registered how limp Rachel was in his arms. “Ray, you have to stay awake for me.”

No response.

His throat attempted to close and he crossed the lawn as quickly as he could, trying again. “Ray, come on. Stay awake.”

No response.

He maneuvered her into one arm before pounding hard on the door, fear driving his hand. He didn’t know what to do, where he was, and felt utterly useless because of it and that was not a feeling he quite enjoyed, thank you very much. When the door wasn’t immediately answered, he pounded again.

The door opened, revealing a rather burly man with a plump woman standing behind him. They were both armed and ready for a fight but neither moved to attack first. “Can I help you?” the man asked in his gruff voice.

“My friend is sick and I don’t know what’s wrong or what to do,” Discord croaked. “Please, you have to help me.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I can’t lose her now.”

The couple shared a look but it was the woman that nodded. The man lowered his weapon as the woman went farther into the home. He stepped back, opening the door wide. “Alright, come in. But you do anything to harm either myself or my wife, and I’ll throw you both out after making sure you’re not coming back.”

Discord nodded, stepping into the home. That sounded reasonable. After all, he was an unknown stranger to them. For all they knew, he could just be using this as a cover to get close.

He shuddered, disgusted by the thought.
“Have you ever had one of those dreams where you wake before you hit the ground?”

He looked over at her but didn’t comment. Her arms were crossed and resting on the railing, shoulders high but her gaze was situated towards the horizon rather than down at her arms like he had expected. Her entire stance screamed exhaustion but her expression, the fact that her gaze was still straight ahead, spoke of something stronger than the exhaustion itself.

“I’ve never had one but I’ve heard people talking about it; how they wake with with a jolt still feeling like they’re falling.” Her gaze dipped downward slightly. “I never really understood what they meant till last night.”

He frowned. “You dreamt you had fallen?”

She shook her head, her gaze coming back up. She didn’t look at him, though. “I dreamt that I was swimming. I was swimming with no sign of land in sight and I was exhausted. But I couldn’t stop. For whatever reason, I just couldn’t stop. But then something wrapped itself around my ankle and dragged me under. The water was deep, but I couldn’t drown. No matter how far down it went, I found that I didn’t drown even when I sucked in water as if it were air. It had been like I had air trapped around me and I had sucked that in instead of the water but the tension - the initial panic was still there and I couldn’t get free even though it seemed I could breathe.” Her words stalled and he saw it in her expression. She blinked rapidly a few times before offering, “I woke up sucking in a large breath, exhausted and slowly coming to. I know it’s no where near what people experience when they wake before hitting the ground but I couldn’t help wondering if it was close enough.”

He looked forward, watching as the sun set behind the mountain range. The mountains were taller than any he had ever seen, even back on Earth, so it was still rather early as night began to fall. It probably didn’t help with how close they were to the pointed peaks to begin with. “I dream I’m burning,” he comments, letting the words tumble forward without a thought. If he thought about it, acknowledged it, he would shut up and shut down. “Sometimes I’m burning, sometimes I’m burning something. Or someone. It varies but, for the longest time, I was the one burning. It was before we knew of any of this.” He made a broad, encompassing gesture, but he knew she understood that it was not directed to the world they were now in alone. “When we got more information, when we started learning and accepting these new parts of ourselves, I started dreaming of burning down places. Sometimes it would vary between home and some random location I’ve never seen or barely knew. More times than not, I was only creating damage and the dreams were rather tame, considering what I had been dreaming. They were stressful, don’t get me wrong, but I would classify them as simple dreams where the ones where I’m burning alive were nightmares.”

His mouth was suddenly dry and he took a moment to wet his lips. “Well, that was until I started dreaming I was burning others.”

His gaze fell beyond the railing to the ground far below, huddling into himself in a sort of comfort. He wasn’t sure if she was looking at him or not but he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to see her expression. “At first, they were minor burns, accidents to strangers I didn’t know once I woke up. But they slowly progressed into dreams where those closest to me were burning and I couldn’t do a thing to help them. No amount of trying to do anything with the fire ever stopped them from burning. It’s gotten to the point now where I’m surprised I don’t wake up with third degree burns on my hands and arms after having spent the entire dream trying to pull someone out of the flames.”

“You probably would have if your brother hadn’t come back.”

His gaze snapped to her out of surprise. While he had known she had been there, he had not expected her to speak, let alone say that. “What?” he asked weakly.

She looked at him. “I take it he hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?” he ground out, but it sounded breathless to his ears. He gripped the railing, not sure his legs were still under him. He couldn’t feel them.

“He’s been in tune with fire just as long as you have. He’s only now being able to actually do anything with it.”

“But he can’t learn fire,” he choked out, now seriously using the railing as support. “His first element won’t allow him to.”

“It would seem that his first element had been fire, like yours,” she offered with a shrug. “He just happened to have taken to earth before actually doing anything with fire.”

He looked to her, not understanding. “But why?”

She shrugged, looking back to the horizon. He was thrown off. Even as her words had inflections, her entire demeanor seemed nonchalant, as if this was just simple information exchange rather than an in depth, emotional conversation gone wrong. “It could be that he saw that each of us were starting with just one and went with the one element not in use. He’s intelligent like that. That and he probably figured no one would have liked to have seen him controlling two elements where everyone else was starting out with one.” She looked at him again, her gaze curious even as her expression was blank. “Did you know that your grandmother reigned from earth and your grandfather from fire? Your mother took after her father but still managed to pass on the earth element to you both. It would seem your brother took to it more than you had.”

He shook his head. “I’m sure my brother knew. He’s a genius like that.”
He growled, arm out and pressing her back between him and the others as he gave into his default form. His wings spread wide to block them from view and he felt his twin’s feathers brush against his. She was mimicking him, creating the other half of a makeshift shield. He didn’t relax when Michael stepped forward, barking, “They belong to me.”

The noise lessened as those around them turned to whisper about such news. The man before them, the king of this desert kingdom, glared down his nose at Michael. “And how, praytell, did one of your status purchase such a lucrative find?” The man’s gaze moved to him and he was glad that his twin was not facing the man. The hunger would have been lustful has she been the one facing forward and that thought made his growl grow louder. “Twins with shared forms, identical in all but gender.” The man turned his eyes to Michael. “Do they have an aviary form or are the wings an addition?”

He noted Michael bristling but it was minute and he covered it with a shift of his weight. “As if I would tell you the details of what is mine, especially given I have no interest in selling.”

The man laughed and he felt the female he had pushed back shudder against his back. “Not selling? Boy, I could offer you a sum you would never dream of turning down.”

Michael crossed his arms. “Try me.”

The snide smirk was carried in those two words and the noise from the crowd turned into a roar. The man stood up and ordered, “Silence!”

It was heeded instantly.

The man glared down at Michael. “200 mil.”

He choked on nothing, wide eyes falling onto Michael, the young man that held more than just two shifter fates in his hands. But the young man in question merely rolled his head to look back at him and asked, “Adhara, do you think that is a reasonable price?”

He frowned, not understanding, but he did the math real quick and took in what he knew for the pricing of the lands and shook his head. “No, sir,” he responded, remembering to show as if Michael was the one in charge. Too risky not to behave as expected. “That is under a third of the minimum you could get at the Black Market.”

The crowd was suddenly in an uproar but there was too much noise to make out if it was out of outrage towards himself or towards the king.

It wasn’t a lie and the king knew it because he paled before turning red, countering sharply, “Your beast is attempting to cheat me out of money.” His words only caused the noise from the crowd to get worse.

Adhara couldn’t see but it seemed as if Michael was smirking if his words belayed anything properly. “I trust Adhara’s judgment. He alone is worth 200 mil to me alone, and that price doesn’t include his twin.”

Somehow the crowd managed to only get louder. The noise continued on even as the man called for order and silence but it was Michael raising a hand that silenced the crowd. Suddenly, Adhara understood. Michael had placed himself over the King of the land with a show of having the most expensive possessions in the land. If Adhara and his twin were worth more than 200 mil alone, what did that place the others at. It was clear that they were well taken care of, even if it would be an assumption of the people. And if the two shifters were worth more than 200 mil, who was to say the humans of the group were worth any less. Having that expensive of shifters portrayed a part of Michael’s personality that people would presume on; he liked expensive things. But not just expensive things. These things had to be of use to him and be of good value otherwise they were worthless in every sense of the word. This meant that, for whatever reason, the humans of the group were something to keep an eye on.

“If we are done with this foolishness,” Michael spoke, his voice low but carrying easily to the still standing king, “I would like a suite for me and mine in the castle for the night. We will move on come morning but, for now, I would like to rest.”

“O-of course,” the man stuttered. “I will have one prepared right away.”

Michael did a sort of half bow before turning and walking towards Adhara. Winging it (with pun intended), he curled his wings forward, blocking Michael from view. There was a bit of noise as Adhara released his default form and returned to his human one, keeping the wings present to hide Michael from view. The younger man looked shaken and drained but his eyes were sharp as he looked up at Adhara. “Can I trust you and your sister to keep an eye on everyone? I can only do so much.”

Adhara nodded. “I’m sorry you have to take the lead here.”

Michael gathered his composure and shook his head. Adhara folded his wings behind his back. “No. This is for the better.” Adhara’s twin walked over but she had remained in her default form. Her position conveniently blocked Michael’s lips from being read by the crowd. “This…show will allow us to overthrow this moron of a king. If nothing else, it will gain us support.”

Adhara looked to his twin to see her frowning and her fingers flicked about in a brief sentence. Adhara signed back as he spoke to Michael, “Will it get us the support of the humans and shifters, though?”

Michael shrugged. “Probably not this show, but once we leave the castle, we’ll be able to have a larger influence on the lower populous.” He gave a tired smile as the rest of the groups circled close, blocking him from view of the crowd. “The desert was wet and wild. Now it is barren and dry. This supposed king is doing nothing more than damaging the ecosystem because he believes in his caste system and this need for isolation. We will be targets because of where I have placed us but it will be the lords we will need on our side.”

“Will we get that chance?” Adhara asked as he watched his twin move to the other side, placing herself between the group and the crowd glaring at any that dared get close. A large space appeared around the huddled group and Adhara let a small smile grace his face. He loved his sister. She was the best.

“Most likely within the next week.” Michael sighed. “The man will probably invite us to a banquet sometime within the next seven days and all the lords of the surrounding lands will come. That is the way of the Meca hierarchy.”

[ArtisticVicu]

RPApril Extravaganza 2017
An Assortment of Writings
RPApril Extravaganza is an annual event, 2017 being the first year I participated. Each section contains the content from that given event.

The Decathlon

For those of you who may not know, a decathlon is an Olympic event made up of ten track and field events. This will be similar in that our decathlon will consist of 10 events, with a new one coming out every 3 days until the end of the month. Each event will come with it's own set of instructions and you will have 3 days to complete it. It should be noted that all RPA rules are in effect for this.

The rain was heavy in the air as she sat beneath the pine tree, eyes wide as she watched the falling water droplets cascade through the air. Never had she cared about the weather but now she just couldn’t get enough of it. Thunder rumbled through her chest and she let out a shaky breath that condensed before her gaze before it dissipated in the chilly air. She turned her gaze towards the opening in the trees that revealed the rest of the mountains in the area and she gaped at the virga that brushed the mountainsides as the clouds seemed to be fog among the peaks. She just could not fathom never having cared for the weather before.
There is this thing here
that spins like a top for some
hamster flinging fun.
He rolled up her sleeve, hissing in sympathetic pain. The undead were breathing down their neck but at least they had the brief reprieve for the moment to look over injuries. She stilled his hand as he moved to take care of her.

“Don’t,” she hissed. “You know as well as I do the likelihood of me becoming one of the undead now.”

He shook his head. “But there’s still a chance you won’t.”

“Not a big enough one,” she growled. She winced, grunting as pain coursed through her. After a moment, she panted, relaxing. “Please. Don’t waste this on me.”

He looked to her, wounded. He didn’t want her to become one of the undead. He didn’t want to have to kill her. But he wouldn’t go against her desire and he closed the kit, sighing. He glared at her, but it was more hurt than anything else. “Fine. But I am going to find a cure and rid us of all the undead and heal those bitten so that you will never have to worry about changing.”

She smiled weakly, touching his arm. “I look forward to not have to worry about these blasted buggers ever again but, for right now, let’s deal with what is.”

There was a bang from the other end of the building. The undead breached their defenses. Their reprieve has ended.
Just imagine: a school, a student body more extraordinary than we are, an unknown evil, and a Chosen One. At first it seems the plot is straight forward only for the end to leave us with a cliffhanger that the supposed final boss was only a subordinate for a much greater evil and we get subsequent sequels out of it (true number pending). Not only that but it is soon discovered that the Chosen One has some sort of connection to the great evil that they really should have no business going up against at their age. On top of that, there’s one professor that the Chosen One swears is evil but are told is good, one professor they swear is good but turns out to be evil (you’d be surprised on how many of these there are), and one professor they really should have been keeping an eye on but it never crossed their mind to even turn their attention to and are flabbergasted when this professor does something that, really, should have been expected. Then, when you can’t think the Chosen One is really not up to the task of defeating this great evil, the Chosen One goes off on their own on some quest of self discovery and come back all that more powerful.

This is “A Completely Original Tale That Has Never Been Told Before.”
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Air rushed into anticipating lungs. Adrenaline flooded veins with a pounding heart. Sweat beaded skin. Muscles tightened, ready to react at a moment’s notice. Rational thought slowly fell away.

“I can’t do this,” she ground out.

He squeezed her hand. “Yes you can. I’m with you every step of the way.”

“It’s too big. There’s no way this won’t end in a disaster.”

He frowned. “I doubt that.”

She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “As if you’re in any place to speak.” She looked away. “I am not ready for this. I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” he urged. “You’ve been prepared for this for so long.”

“I can’t-”

“Yes you can!” he cut in. “I know you. You are the strongest, bravest person I know. You’ll make it through this and not once regret your decision.”

She looked at him but her disbelief was edged into the edge of her hopeful gaze. “You think so?”

He smiled at her. “I know so.”

The harnesses of the rollercoaster hissed open to let its current riders out. She gave his hand a squeeze before letting go and stepping up to her seat.

Air rushed into constricted lungs. Adrenaline flooded veins as the heart rate increased. Sweat beading the skin was an unwelcomed physical reaction in the moment. Muscles locked, stuck in a state of fear that didn’t seem possible to override. Rational thought wasn’t a thing.

“I can’t do this,” she breathed.

He squeezed her hand. “Yes you can. I’m with you every step of the way.”

“It’s too big. There’s no way this won’t end in a disaster.”

His fond smile tainted frown was heard on his words. “I doubt that.”

She closed her eyes, grounding out, “As if you’re in any place to speak.” She opened them again. “I am not ready for this. I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” he urged. “You’ve been prepared for this for so long.”

“I can’t-”

“Yes you can!” he cut in. “I know you. You are the strongest, bravest person I know. You’ll make it through this and not once regret your decision.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “You think so?”

He smiled at her. “I know so.”

She relaxed, content in familiar words. He gave her hand a squeeze in return. “I’ll see you at the altar. The ride of your life hasn’t stopped yet.”
Haunting Visage
Marked with fear
Sharpened by time
No longer there for me to see.
Haunting visage
Etched into my mind
Please leave me be.
An echo in mind
A phantom in sight
You will never let me forget.
An accident
A sharp blow
It could have been so much worse.
You were there
Safe as could be
Only to be taken out by the unforeseen.
Now all I see
Especially in sleep
Is your haunting visage staring back at me.
I leaned on the railing, overlooking what of the treetop village I could see. In all honestly, it was more like a city in the trees than a village. Some of the homes were massive with multiple chambers and the trees were equally as large, easilly supporting any structure these people made. Said people were moving about, some with someplace to be, other with a leasurely manner that spoke of no worry. And to think that there was a war brewing not even half a day’s travel from here and yet everyone was calm here. It was certainly a wonder.

Wonder turned to curiosity as a scent drifted towards me from the home I was standing in front of. My stomach growled, complaining at the lack of food it had been fed during the day. I could’t really argue with the need to eat. The smells were delicious. I reentered the dwelling I had left and stepped right into the middle of what seemed to be a heated argument. One of my companions was going at it, though I came in half way through. “You don’t understand! This is all going to shit in a matter of days and who’ll-”

“Who’ll do what?” the one they were arguing with shot in, cutting their words off. I glanced at the others in the room, taking in all of them standing as far away from the arguing pair as best they could in the small quarters. I didn’t envy them but this was ridiculous. Honestly, they had this argument, like, seven times a day and we had only been there for two. It was getting tired. “We’re not made for fighting in that! Or have you failed to pay attenion why you’ve been out galavanting and having such a wonderful time. Stop-”

“Stop it, you two,” I spoke, my words heavy but calm as I physically stepped between them with a palm on either chest. I forced them both to take a step back, my touch never wavering. “We’ve all sat through this argument time and time again and we haven’t even been here that long. You two need to come to some sort of understanding before things fall to pieces. We are fully aware the vulnerability of this place and the best thing we can do is evacuate. You cannot prepare an army in such a short time. The… uh… the….”

“The Lihitians,” the matron of the household stated. I dipped my head towards her in thanks as I lowered my hands and took a step away from the pair I had separated. They seemed to have calmed down enough to not need me as a buffer any longer but I didn’t dare stray too far. I didn’t trust them to keep their cool. The matron took over talking, though, so that was nice. She spoke, “There are many here that want to stay and fight and many more that just can’t. Sometimes it is best to be like the rain.”

“Rain?” I asked, confused. The matron smiled but didn’t seem to have heard me when she moved about bustling everyone to some activity. I avoided her snatching me up and slipped back out. Apparently the food I has smelled wasn’t done yet according to her and if I had stayed in there, I would have risked being smacked by a spoon of some fashion. Pity. I was now really hungry. Aw well. Best enjoy the calm while I had it. After all, once the war came, there was going to be no way I could avoid conflict. Or could I?
There are no words for the joy that comes from the one that has passed still haunting our days in the most wonderful ways. Michelangelo was always the prankster and jokester in life and through death. He never once let us be sad, always pranking us in ways that were harmless and telling horrible jokes. His favorite target was his brother Raphael and, even in the more dire days, it never failed to rile the hot-head up and end up in laughter. So, in his words, remember to always take a moment to laugh because life is too short to live it dull.
The sun was hot on his face and he enjoyed the sensation. It still boggled his mind that something so many had come to complain about was something he found enjoyable. But, then, those that complained had long since forgotten where they had come from. Those of the older generations try to remind the newer generations of the hardships that had befallen the world but many do not understand. So many now only know the world above that the idea of having been trapped below the surface of the planet is mind boggling. He was one of the few remaining souls that could clearly remember where they had come from, could say he lived there once. After all, he had grown up there, even if it was within the last handful of years of their entombment. He brought his chin down, looking over the field before him.

The many buildings for the university he worked at - though that is a loose term for what he did - sat behind him in the summer heat and before him lay a field that took up a city block and was encircled by large trees and places to sit or study. The number of bodies in the area was small. It was summer vacation for a lot of student and, while a good number still chose to do summer courses, it was only a fraction of the total student body. Even a good number of the professors he worked with were on summer vacation, so to speak.

He himself didn’t work overly hard throughout the normal school year and so chose to stay around during the summer as well to help those that needed it.

“Kepler!”

He turned, expression curious. One of his dear friends - a student at the university but not in his department - was running towards him, backpack slapping against his back. The man came to a stop before him and was forced to look up at him. Kepler was taller than most people to begin with and his dear friend just happened to be shorter than the average man. Did not seem to affect how others saw him, though. He still had people approaching him at random just to chat with him. He mostly assumed it was because he looked friendly? He doubted he would ever figure that out.

“I did not realize you were taking courses during the summer, Alex,” Kepler spoke, already knowing the answer.

Alex grinned at him. “Came hunting for you, ya bag of bones. Courtney and Sasha are dropping into town. They wanted to meet this mysterious professor I’ve befriended.”

Kepler rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Alex, I will never understand why you insist on calling me a professor. I am nothing of the sort.”

“Do you teach classes?”

Kepler blinked. “Sometimes, but that-”

“Do you dish out homework?”

“Well, yes, but only-”

“Do you have students coming for you for help on yer subjects?”

“Of course, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Then yer a professor!” Alex grinned at him and Kepler let out a frustrated breath, though amusement colored his expression. “Come on. My sisters will only come up with more embarrassing questions the longer we let them stew.”

Kepler chuckled, following at a much more sedated pace after his friend. After all, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to be. Alex knew his schedule just as well as Kepler knew Alex’s. Hard not to with them being roommates and all. Kepler had never been comfortable in the large house his dad had gifted him before passing so had come to renting it out to students that were not in his department ever. A stipulation he was adamant about.

If only you could see this, Dad, Kepler offered softly, his thoughts drifting as his gaze drifted skyward. He looks so much like Father, it’s uncanny. I wish you were here so that I could ask if he behaved like him. I hope so. I truly hope so with having been given the same name and the same face.

That was the downside to aging at such a slow rate. generations passed in the blink of an eye and he had seen too many people behave like previous people he had known to not believe in some form of reincarnation. While his interaction with Alex was to be short lived due to a number of factors, Kepler took this as a way of his father interacting with him as well. It eased some of his own worry about making his parents proud, even if his dad had told him time and time again he had made both of them proud many times over.

“Kepler!”

Kepler blinked, focusing ahead of him. Alex was waving at him, standing next to a nice car with three other people. One of which made Kepler stumble. There, tucked into Alex’s side and blushing like crazy, was someone who was the spitting image of his dad. Kepler wasn’t even sure he knew how to breath as his legs automatically walked him over to the group.

“Kepler, this is my boyfriend,” Alex introduced, but the name sounded like static to him and it was only because he had been expecting the name that he was able to read it off of Alex’s lips. “He’ll be joining us with his brother.”

Kepler’s head snapped around, looking for someone that was the spitting image of his uncle but saw none. Alex laughed, though it sounded tight. “He’s not here, yet.” Alex spoke the name and again static filled Kepler’s ears as he read the familiar name off of Alex’s lips, “is coming in a bit. He got caught in traffic.”

Alex kissed his boyfriend’s temple, whispering something. The smaller man nodded, letting Alex step away. Alex grabbed Kepler’s arm and dragged him away, frowning. “Hey, what’s wrong? What’s got you so spooked?”

Kepler swallowed thickly, unable to keep from glancing over at the reincarnate of his dad. He had never known his father which made it easy interacting with Alex, but he had known his dad and uncle for centuries, had watched them both die. He looked back at Alex, not sure if he could even put that into words his dear friend could understand. A first, in his 500 some odd years of life and he had no idea how to handle it.

How do you tell someone they are your dead parent reincarnation and they’re dating your other dead parent reincarnation?
Triple Threat

How far can you twist your imagination? In this contest, members will be given three unrelated themes to merge into a great short story! But the challenge doesn't end there - we want you to write three stories - one each week for the first three weeks of RPApril!

“Tales as old as time, man,” Benny chimed lazily. Everyone gaped at him.

“I’m sorry,” Conner countered, adjusting his glasses, “but I fail to remember ‘saving old lady from a roof’ as being considered a classic of literature.”

“I thought it was at least creative,” Abby commented. “I never expected that topic to make such a scary story.”

Dennis puffed out his chest. “I’m just talented like that.”

“And arrogant,” Erin chimed, smirking at the glare Dennis shot her. “I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”

Hector held up his hands, stilling the argument coming. “Guys, enough. Don’t have at it next to the camp fire. We all know it turns to fists at some point and I’d rather not have to treat burns.”

“Shoot,” Frankie spoke, gaining the group’s attention. She held up the empty bag of marshmallows. “Benny finished off the bag.”

Benny shrugged when the majority looked his way. “Guilty as charged.”

“We should have more in the cabin,” Conner informed them. “I think the bag is on the counter.”

“I left it on the floor,” Dennis spoke up. He shrugged when Conner glared at him. “They’re marshmallows and they were in a second bag. Not like they were gonna get dirty or anything.”

Frankie stood up and Grace hurried to her feet. “I’ll go with you, Frankie. I have to get some more water anyways.”

“Bathroom break,” Abby called, getting up herself.

Benny rolled to his feet. “Aw man, I totally agree with that.” He popped his back before looking to the others. “Anyone else?”

Dennis clambered to his feet. “I need more booze so I’ll tag along.”

“Sweet,” Benny chimed. He turned to the remaining few. “We’ll be back, brosefs.”

Benny wandered after Abby as Dennis joined Frankie and Grace in the kitchen. Grace smiled at him before leaving, a full glass of water in hand. Dennis opened the fridge but frowned when he noticed that Frankie was just standing there, frowning. “Frankie?” he asked, watching as she jumped.

She looked to him, bewildered. “Oh! Hey Dennis. Where did you leave the marshmallows again? I can’t seem to find them.”

Dennis sighed and closed the fridge, beerless. He walked over. “On the floor with…”

His words died on his lips as he came to stand beside her finding the spot he had left the bag empty of a bag. What he did see, though, had him grabbing Frankie’s arm and pulling her towards the door.

“Dennis?” she squeaked, her words belaying her sudden worry.

“We need to get the others,” Dennis spoke, his voice grave.

“Why?”

Dennis shook his head. “Later, when we’re all together.”
“Pee break’s over, you two,” Dennis snapped out just as Abby and Benny were about to trade places.

Benny groaned. “Aw man. But I was just about to use the loo.”

Abby frowned, though, touching Benny’s arm as Dennis reached out and took her hand. “Dennis, what’s wrong?”

“Later,” he told her, dragging her along. Abby just barely had time to grab Benny. “When we’re all together.”

They passed through the kitchen again and Dennis only seemed to get even more spooked. Hector and Erin got to their feet, concern on their faces while surprise colored the other two.

“Dennis, what-” Hector started but Dennis cut him off, passing Frankie to him.

“Conner, increase the fire size,” Dennis ordered. Conner opened his mouth but Dennis didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Just do it!”

Conner flinched back out of disdain but did as he was told as Dennis sat Abby and Benny down. Dennis glanced back at the house.

“Dennis,” Hector tried again, having sat Frankie down.

Dennis turned his gaze gaze to him. “Do you know any of the lore of the area?

Benny fell off his seat. "What?! When did you hear about Betty?!”

All but Dennis looked to Benny. Dennis never removed his gaze from Hector as he repeated, “Do you know any of the lore?”

Hector shook his head, returning his gaze to Dennis. “No. What has this to do-”

“You’ve never heard about Betty?!” Benny cut in, his voice an octave higher than normal.

“Who’s Betty?” Conner asked, clearly not amused by the behavior of the two boys.

“Betty Terrish was the only survivor of a supposedly horrible accident,” Grace put in, gaining a number of gazes. “She was camping near here with her cheerleader team and some of the football team. She came down from the campsite clenching a giant avocado to her chest saying it was the only thing that saved her.”

“It was a normally sized avocado,” Dennis corrected, crossing his arms. “The story exaggerates quite a bit with each different telling.”

“But how do you know about Betty Terrish, Dennis?” Grace asked, not at all offended by his words. “You don’t live anywhere near the area.”

Dennis gave a guarded shrug. “My cousin was one of the few cheerleaders unable to go to the main campsite that night. They and a few football players had gone down to the convenient store for whatever reason and had not only been the first ones to receive her, but they were the ones that led the cops to the campsite and saw the aftermath. They had gotten the least corrupted story of the event.”

Silence hung over all of them. Hector broke it first.

“So whatever had attacked your cousin’s team is here?”

Dennis nodded. “The first hint was in the kitchen where the marshmallows were supposed to be.”

Frankie frowned, asking softly, “How was that the first sign. It was only spilt wine.”

Dennis arched an eyebrow. “You want to make a bet on that?” he challenged.

She hesitated.

Benny looked to the sky. “Wish upon a star for safety, man.” A cricket chirped and Benny dropped his chin to see everyone giving him some version of a deadpan look. He blinked at them all. “What?”

“Dude, you have the weirdest sayings,” Dennis replied, his words tense.

“Where do you even get them?” Conner asked.

Hector threw up a hand. “Don’t answer that, Benny. We don’t have time.” He looked to Dennis. “So what exactly are we dealing with?”
Dennis shook his head. “I don’t know. I just-”

There was a snap and all heads whipped around. “Check, please!” Benny squeaked.

Hector and Dennis stood at the same time. Dennis looked at the others briefly as Hector made the first move towards the sound. Dennis wasn’t far behind him, stopping a number of feet from the edge of the forest as Hector went right up to the tree line.

Nothing happened.

The group relaxed. Hector turned, stating, “See? Nothing to-”

A mass shot out of the trees, wrapped itself around Hector, and yanked him into the trees.

Everyone screamed and Dennis, Conner, Abby, and Erin took off after Hector without even thinking. It takes a moment but the others rush after Hector as well.

The group finds itself in the middle of a clearing, Hector laying on the ground in the middle of the space. Dennis crashes to his knees beside Hector’s prone body and Conner is quick to follow. Abby and Erin greeted the others as they arrived but they kept their gazes on the surrounding trees.

Before anyone could say a word, masses leapt at them from the trees and everyone screamed again.

Laughter shattered the atmosphere.

The only one not laughing was Benny.

“Aw, man,” Dennis said between gasps of breath, looking to the unrobing masses. “You guys get any of our faces on camera?”

“I did!” a girl cheered, holding up a camera.

“I want a copy of the entire thing,” Hector called.

“Even knowing what was going to happen didn’t help,” Frankie spoke, her voice high and soft but flushed almost like she had a sunburn. “That was so scary!”

“What. Just happened?” Benny asked, sounding as if he was in shock.

“You just got pranked, son!” some jock shouted from the trees.

Abby patted Benny’s arm, grinning. “Dennis-”

“Hey!” Dennis complained.

“-was sick and tired of your pranks so he figured it was time to return the favor and we all agreed,” Abby continued on as if Dennis hadn’t interrupted. “His cousin was the one that came up with the idea.”

“While my classmate’s deaths were horrible, there wasn’t anything supernatural about it,” said cousin explained. “It got blown out of proportion by the students that heard hearsay and rumors and it all turned into lore.”

“Makes for a great prank setup,” another jock spoke, grinning.

Benny blinked at Dennis. “You were behind this?”

Dennis nodded, helping Hector up. “Yeah.”

“Dude! This was fantastic!” Benny exploded, thrilled. “That was amazing! I thought I was going to pee myself in fright! This is certainly a day to remember!”

Everyone laughed and cheered and the massive group made its way back to the camp fire. When they returned, there were a few extra people there. A buffet had been set up and there was a second fire. The entire group settled in to party the rest of the night away.
5 Things, 1 Story

You can turn just about anything into a story. As a writer, you're just creative like that! So in this fun contest, we'll be putting that ability to the test! Each week of RPApril (On Fridays), you'll be given five things that are completely unrelated from each other. Then it's your job to put them together in a short story.

The sea was rough, the bow of the ship slamming down into the water after every wave crested.

"Hold tight, my fellows!" the captain bellowed from the helm. "And keep her steady!"

The crew scrambled about to follow orders, working their best to keep the ship pointed forward. The captain's hand rested on the piston strapped to his waist, his right eye narrowing. A nasty gash went under the eye patch over the left eye, hinting at what could only be a severe wound underneath the leather material. He easily picked out the different crew members working, taking stock of who was where, doing what on the rigging. His gaze snapped about, noting those missing, one of which had no excuse.

"Where is Marcus?" the captain demanded over the storm.

The first mate came rushing forward, sliding on the wet deck but staying upright. "None have seem him, Captain!"

The captain snarled. "Keep her heading! I'm going below."

The captain stepped away from the wheel and the first mate hurried forward to take control. He shouldered the door to the decks below open, the ship lurching sideways and shoving him into a wall. He growled and made his way through the ship, his good eye still narrowed. He had a pretty good idea where Marcus was. He just had to trap him in the room.

The only sound he could hear was the creaking of the ship around him as he approached a room that was supposed to be locked from all others. The door was ajar, swaying on the hinges with the motion of the ship. He pulled his pistol free into his other hand before slowly pushing the door open.

"Come on, come on!" a voice snarled. "Where is it?"

The captain clicked the hammer back and the figure in the room froze. "What are you looking for, Marcus," the captain growled.

"Captain Ozack!" Marcus chimed, jumping to his feet with his hands in the air near his shoulders. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Do not make me repeat my question, landlubber."

Marcus's expression cleared, becoming serious. "Where did you stash it, Ozack. Where is the book?"

Captain Ozack smirked. "You think I would leave it where others could easily access it?"

Realization crossed Marcus's face. "You left it in your quarters."

Captain Ozack's smirk turned into a grin. "You thought I would have moved it after your first attempt? I knew you would never think I would keep it where you had seen it last."

Marcus shook his head, snarling, "I am such a fool."

Captain Ozack adjusted his aim to Marcus's head. "That you are."

The pistol went off but Marcus was already moving. Captain Ozack grunted as the pair went down. The saber skidded out of his reach and Marcus was off, racing towards the captain quarters. "MARCUS!!" Captain Ozack screamed in fury.

It was a race, one that Captain Ozack was determined to make Marcus lose. The ship did not help as the vessel lurched sideways, slamming them both into the walls and then to the floor. Marcus was quicker to recover and he was at the cabin doors before Captain Ozack could get his hands on him. Marcus wrenched them open, stumbling as the ship shuddered beneath his feet. There was a clap of thunder that rumbled through his chest. There, on the desk nailed into the floor, rested the treasure he had been looking for; a book with a jewel encrusted cover. He grabbed it, yanking it to his chest. He turned around, ready to bolt, only to come face to face with the barrel of Captain Ozack's gun.

"The book," Captain Ozack growled, offering his hand. "Now."

Marcus snarled but handed the object over. Captain Ozack tucked it into his coat before gesturing for Marcus to go ahead of him, never removing the gun from Marcus's head. Their procession was steady even with the ship trying to throw them about. As they stepped into the storm above, the rest of the crew stilled as best it could in the midst of trying to keep the ship going. The majority of eyes were on them as Captain Ozack ordered over the storm, "Lock in the plank!"

Two crew members rushed forward to shove the plank of wood through its slot and then secure it into place. The ship lurched beneath them all and Captain Ozack gave a feral grin. "Walk the plank, Marcus. I'll be merciful and leave you untied. The storm will swallow you faster than you will sink."

Marcus glared at the captain before walking to the edge of the ship and placing his foot on the rim before the plank. He turned back to place his steely gaze on Captain Ozack. "Mark my words. I will have that book and I will use its powers against you."

Captain Ozack laughed, the sound haunting and full of hate. He gestured wide. "I'd love to see you try, Marcus." He pointed his pistol at Marcus once more. "But first, you must walk the plank."

Marcus stood there for a brief moment before turning, prepping to step up onto the plank of wood.

"James! Syrus! What are you two doing?"

The scene broke and two boys blinked at the mother standing at the edge of the living room, an incredulous look on her face. James stood on the couch with a foot on a snowboard that bridged the couch and coffee table. Syrus stood on the other end of the couch, a toy gun pointed at James, an eye patch over his left eye that he quickly pushed up to look up at the mother with both eyes. Under his arm was a book wrapped in tin foil. The mother's gaze snapped to the silver package. "Syrus, what is wrapped in the foil?"

"A book," he squeaked.

"It's the Book of Spells!" James exclaimed, hopping off the couch. "I grabbed one of your novels and wrapped it because you always say that your books are full of them."

The mother's expression softened, though her gaze wandered over the mess. It seemed as if a tornado had torn through her home. Toys and items were all over the place, littering the stairs from the basement. Even the furniture hadn't survived the havoc her son and his friend had created. Several chairs were on their side and it looked like they had tied one of the sheets from the closet to the kitchen broom and the couch itself, the broom handle stuffed down between the cushions. The mother sighed, running her hand through James's hair affectionately. "Alright. It's time for you two to clean up. Syrus, your sister will be arriving in a half hour to pick you up."

"Yes Miss Sucram," Syrus dutifully replied, pulling the eye patch off his head. James walked over and took the book from Syrus. The world melded back but, instead of being on a storming ship, Captain Ozack and Marcus were standing on a docked ship, a glorious island beside them. Captain Ozack gave a brisk nod of his head, eye patch gone to reveal the scarred flesh. Marcus gave a nod in return, the jewel encrusted book in hand. He turned, facing the woman standing on the deck, the crew still bowing to her. Marcus walked up to her and offered her the book. She smiled and took it, touching his cheek. "That's my boy."

The goddess vanished as Marcus was left there, standing with his gaze where she had been. He took in a shuddering breath as Ozack placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, mate," Ozack spoke, his voice low. "We have quite the mess to clean up."

Marcus grinned, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "That we do, old friend."
The headlights of the truck broke through the darkness, illuminating both the road and the rain coming down in sheets. Static was the only thing on the radio but he didn't care. He never cared. The hum of the engine was all he needed as he kept the rig on the road between the lines. After all, it wasn't like this was a route he never did.

Something leapt into the beams of the light and he jerked upright, slamming his foot on the breaks and attempting to swerve. The rig didn't handle the change very well and the next thing he knew, he was coming to with the truck tilted but not on its side on the side of the road. He sat back, wincing but finding himself nothing more than a bit bruised. He rolled his shoulder and took stock. He was inches from a tree and he let out a shaky breath. If he had hit that, he would have most likely have died. Not to mention that the truck would have been totaled. Flicking the lock, he climbed out and dropped to the gravel. His skid marks shown even on the wet pavement. He blinked and looked up, finally registering the mist like rain drifting down to him, caressing his face. He closed his eyes and thanked the deities above that everything was ok. He'd have quite the task trying to get the truck back on the road but at least it wasn't damaged and the cargo still strapped in.

He turned to climb back into the cabin of the truck when he paused, looking back the way he had come as adrenaline surged through him. He had thought he had seen something but, as he hunted the darkness, he couldn't see anything.

He turned back around, figuring it had been his imagination when he found himself face to face with a teenage girl. He jumped, scrambling back from the teenager. She seem unaffected by his reaction, merely tipping her head to the side, bright blue grey eyes blinking at him quizzically. Anger flushed through him in his embarrassment at being startled by a little girl and he snapped, "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"Waiting for you," her melodious voice answered. He shuddered, taking another step back. "You can help me."

He frowned at her. "I doubt that." He caught sight of something on her bare shoulder and, without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her to see what was there on her skin. She went with him, seemingly not bothered by the surprise rough treatment. There, on her arm, was a bubble tattoo. It was strange. He could have sworn he had seen it before but, for the life of him, he couldn't remember where. Out of a hunch, he turned her, finding the same bubble tattoo mirrored on her other shoulder. "Where did you get these?" he asked, his throat tight and choking his words.

"I've always had them," she answered, her gaze having yet to leave his face. "It would be best if we got going."

His gaze snapped to hers and he looked into the depths of those blue grey eyes, not sure how to handle all this. She reached up and undid his grip with little difficulty. He shook his head, overwhelmed and confused. "Well, it's going to take a while. My truck-"

He had gestured towards it, in turn drawing his own attention to it, only to find that his truck was no longer where he had left it. He spun around, finding it on the road where he had come from, waiting and appearing as if it hadn't even gone off the road. Fear added itself to the toxic mix in his veins.

"We have to get going," she spoke softly and the edge of a memory brushed his thoughts. It was faint and didn't leave an impression but it pulled at his chest and brought tears to his eyes. He closed his eyes briefly, fighting the sudden emotion, before focusing on her. He frowned. "Where are we going?"

She smiled gently. "You'll know."

"It'll take time to fix the broken washing machine and it would probably just be more cost effective to by a new refrigerator," the man informed him.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Alright. Thank you for at least coming through and checking everything out."

The man tipped his hat and left. He closed the door behind the man and turned only to have a small body collided with his leg. He looked down at the grinning ball of energy that had attached itself to his leg. "Daddy! Daddy! Come play!" it exclaimed and he reached down, sweeping that little ball of energy up and into the air. The ball of energy squealed in joy before giggling. He grinned, replying, "My little girl unable to entertain herself? Preposterous, I say."

"But daddy! I can't seem to find the remote!"

He arched an eyebrow and the giggling was a dead giveaway she was lying. But he merely grinned as he brought their faces together, the fingers of his free hand finding the ticklish skin of her side. "Oh? Is that so? You can't seem to find it?"

She squealed again, this time squirming in an attempt to get away from his hunting fingers. "No! Daddy. No tickling! Treasure hunt!"

He straightened, his fingers stilling as she continued to giggle sporadically. "A treasure hunt, huh? Do I get a hint?"

She shook her head but she was grinning. He smiled, opening his mouth only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. He looked to it, frowning. He tucked her against his side as she fell silent, resting her head against his shoulder. He opened it, finding himself face to face with a man he never hoped to see again.

"Colonel," he greeted, the word short.

"Major," the man returned just as short. "Do you have a moment?"

"Are you ok?"

He blinked, glancing over to his unexpected companion. She was watching him, eyes still strikingly blue grey. "Yeah. Just lost in memory."

"A bad one?"

He pulled his gaze away, settling farther from her. "No." Feeling as if that wasn't enough, he added, "A sad one."

"Do you want to share?"

"No."

Silence fell over them.

He closed the door, holding tight to his daughter. He turned and walked through the house out the back door. She didn't speak up and he didn't explain anything. He walked all the way to the back fence before sitting her on the bar of the fence. He kissed her forehead, asking, "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him, her strikingly blue grey eyes surprisingly clear. "Daddy, are you going to have to go away?"

"No, sweetheart," he assured, running his hand through her hair.

"Am I?" He pressed their foreheads together, unable to answer. She touched his cheek, those too intelligent eyes full of understanding. "It's ok, Daddy. I don't mind."

"But I do," he spat out, his frustration with the situation showing. She didn't flinch but he did. He kissed her forehead before hugging her tight. "I can't lose you too."

"But you won't, daddy. We're like a dandelion."

He pulled back, amusement bleeding through the frustration. "A dandelion, huh?"

She gave a brisk nod, serious and determined. "Yep. We're all yellow and happy together but eventually we turn white and are separated by the wind but, no matter how much you try to separate us, we always come back."

He chuckled gently. "Aw. So when will we end up seeing each other again?" he asked softly, thumbs brushing the bubble tattoos on either arm.

She smiled gently. "You'll know."

"You're not her," he growled out, the tears streaking down his cheeks.

"No," she confirmed. "He did things you never want to know."

He growled and the temptation to lash out was so great, his knuckles turned white on the wheel. Her hand covered his, looking unnaturally pale against his tan skin. "She did not suffer."

His glare flicked to her but it quickly returned to the road. "Doesn't help."

She removed her hand from his. "It does, on some level."

He gave her that and let out sigh. He glanced at her as silence settled around them. He looked forward again. "Where are we going? And no more triggering memories I had forgotten."

"Do your normal route. Relieve yourself of this load. It's as you're heading home that we'll deviate from your normal route."

He nodded and focused on the road, fearing what he was getting himself into and frustrated he couldn't have done something sooner.
The strings of the violin hummed as he pulled the bow across them, his motion just as fluid as the notes singing from the instrument. The sound swelled, filling the room as the notes rose and fell with the song he mapped out on the strings. His fingers never stilled for long as the music progressed and through it all he kept his eyes closed, long since put this song to physical memory. The song rolled around him, rising higher and higher as the notes came quicker, sharper. Around a bend it turned, keeping tight with him before doubling back and rolling skyward, shooting towards the ceiling. It smashed into, spraying outward as if it were a jet of water instead a stream of sound. Down it rained, blending with the new notes falling forth from the instrument he commanded. But as the song came to a close, the sound slowly settled in the room, resting like sediment in the bed of a lake. As he pulled the bow over the final string to produce that final, long note, he opened his eyes, half lidded and not quite seeing. He blinked as the note finished out, clearing his sight and widening his eyelids to a more open position. Removing his chin from the rest, he removed the instrument from his shoulder and gave a slight bow.

Applause erupted from the audience. Small that the space was, the sound was thunderous and his grip on his instrument convulsed. Eventually the noise quieted as a man came forward. "Well done, Conner." He didn't return the notion, merely watched the man like a hawk. He shied away from the arm that wrapped around his shoulders and he tried to pull away as the man pulled him flush to his side. He felt like his skin was crawling. "Let's here another round of applause."

The sound was deafening and the man wasn't letting go. In fact, the man didn't even let him budge as the man led him off stage and into a separate room. The man released him as he closed the door. Conner placed as much space between him and this man as he could without going too far from the door. The man didn't seem at all bothered as he walked over to a service tray, uncorking a decanter of some amber liquid he wanted no part of. The man still poured two glasses as he spoke. "What a show, Conner. The audience ate up every second you were on stage. It was glorious!" The man forced a glass of the amber liquid into the hand holding the bow. He tried not to spill any of the liquid on his instrument. "I still think you could fill a space three times that size easily. Why won't you let me book you a better venue?"

"I have already answered this inquiry multiple times, Mr. Banks," Conner spoke, his voice quick and his words cutting straight to the point. "My answer is still no."

"Come on, Conner, lighten up," Mr. Banks seemed to purr. "At least call me Herman. Certainly we have been working together long enough for that formality."

Conner's hand tightened on his instrument briefly before he turned and set the untouched glass of amber liquid on the nearest flat surface. He looked Mr. Banks dead in the eye. "I have as you countless times to call me O'Bryan at minimum, Mr. Banks."

The man's half empty glass clattered as the ice shifted in his hand. Mr. Banks lowered his glass, frowning. "Jeez, kid. This isn't something you need to get worked up over."

Conner sneered at the man. "Mr. Banks, if you will not follow my requests, I will fire you. This is your final warning."

The color drained from Mr. Banks's round face. "Conner, you can't be serious." Conner merely arched an eyebrow. Mr. Banks gave him a tight grin, putting the glass down. "Y-yeah, this is just some cruel prank, right? You would never fire me. You can't afford to fire me."

Conner gave the man a look. "I can. And I am. Mr. Banks, you're fired. I no longer need your services. Please lose my number. I will be contacting all my current contracts and informing them that there will be a new contact for my name."

Conner placed his violin and bow on the table behind the glass of amber liquid. He picked the glass up but didn't drink. He waited, knowing so much more about Mr. Banks than Mr. Banks knew. Sure enough, the man's face went from sheet white to hideous plum in outrage. Mr. Banks advanced towards him, finger pointed at him and puffed up. "Now see here, O'Bryan. I made you who you are today. You would be nowhere if-"

Conner threw the glass of liquid into Mr. Banks's face. The man sputtered, taking a few steps back in surprise. Conner turned and put the glass down, picking up the violin and bow with utmost care. "I will see that your last paycheck gets to you. Thank you for your help and service, Mr. Banks. May life treat you well from here."

Conner picked up the violin case near the door and exited the room. He took the hallway at a brisk pace, turning as soon as he could. Once he knew he was out of sight, he paused long enough to tuck the instrument back into its case before taking off at a run. Through the winding halls he went, finally coming out at the farthest exit from where Mr. Banks would be at. With a sigh of relief, he started his walk home. He'd catch a bus somewhere along the way but, for now, the night was pleasant and the empty sidewalk empty.

He couldn't have been walking for more than five minutes when the bushes on the far side of the road rustled. Conner came to a stop, his gaze going to the massive bush that could hide a good number of animals behind it.

While not quite swallowed by trees, the town he was in certainly had its fare share of wildlife that wandered in from the actual forest several miles outside of town. He never understood why critters ever came this far into town. A fawn stepped out of the bush first, an awkward thing on legs that seemed too skinny to be of any use. Its mother was right behind it, looking right at him as she stepped out after her child. He didn't move, letting the parent and child move about and into the trees to Conner's right before moving on.

Conner unlocked the front door an hour and a half later. A shout went up from the living room to Conner's left. "Conner's home! Conner's home!"

A small body collided with his legs and he lets out a chuckle, his smile was genuine and endearing. "Hey, bud. How was school?"

"It was awesome!" the kid exclaimed, beaming up at him. "We learned about the Roman Empire today and it's going to be the theme for an entire week. I get to do a project based on the Romans! They were so cool!"

Conner put the violin case to the side as his sibling spoke, chuckling when the rush of words came to an end. "Is that so?" He squats before the younger, ruffling the mop of unruly hair. "Guess that means that our plans to watch Tron have changed, then?"

The kid's eyes got impossibly large and it was all he could do not to laugh at the expression his sibling was pulling. "No!" said kid shrilly yelled. "Tron! You promised!"

He outright laughed, scooping the kid up into his arms and situating them on his hip. He grunted, shifting his stance. His sibling was getting to big for this. "Ok, ok. I'll keep my promise. But you have to promise to eat all of dinner tonight, ok?"

"Ok!" the kid happily agreed as he walked them into the kitchen.

The violin rested against the hall table that didn't hold much. Upon its surface were two photos. One was a family of four, Conner a few years younger than he was now. The other is just him and his sibling. The second one was not a happy picture, though it was beautiful in its own right.

As the sun is setting in the image, the siblings are nothing more than darkened shapes barely distinguishable against the bright background.

Before them sit two grave markers.
She slammed her hands on the desk, making him jump in surprise. "Have you seen Gargantia on the Verdurous Planet?" she demanded.

He adjusted his glasses. "Nice to see you as well, Neda." She gave him a flat look. He sighed. "Yes, I saw it when it was released. What about it?"

"I just binged it in five hours."

He gave her a look over the rim of his glasses. "You're nuts, you know that, right?"

She grinned. "Not nuts. Crazy. And we both know it."

The chuckle that escaped him was involuntary. "Accurate. So what about the anime?"

"It got me thinking. You know all the sciency terms and vocab was never my strong suit." She leaned back. "There's a term based around believing that there is no point to life or something. Atheist but farther still."

"Nihilism," he supplied easily, looking down at his current study. "And a good peg for what Ledo most likely experiences at several points in the anime."

"But I'm confused."

He sighed. Apparently, he wasn't about to get any studying done. So much for looking up Blue Duck for his paper on outlaws and finishing his analysis of Gargantua and Pantagruel by François Rabelais at a reasonable hour. Here was to another long night. Not that he cared overly much. He lived for conversations with Neda. "On?"

"Why there were no atolls or any other sort of land." She plopped onto the edge of his bed. "I mean, I understand that the planet was flooded and all with the Ice Age but the science is off. Earth's atmosphere and the already existing ice would not be able to create enough water planet wide to sink everything. Mountains would still make islands and I would bet my left shoe that atolls would have formed over that long of a period of time easily."

"Why the left-nevermind," he said, cutting himself off. He didn't even want to know about the shoe bet. "It's a science fiction anime. Fiction meaning loosely based in reality. You could even go beyond that and inquire about the people panicking about a new ice age. It seemed they had so much warning that they were creating tech that was illogical in the time frame allotted."

"Was a twist, though, wasn't it?" she asked, grinning. "I only figured it out when he had entered the nest fully."

He nodded, giving her that. "There was bound to be some sort of twist in that fashion. Humans fighting a single race with no more a purpose than to wipe it from existence reminded me a bit too much of Ender's Game."

She shuddered. "That story still creeps me out."

"Sadly," he agreed. "Especially in how accurate it is when it comes to how humans would react in those situations. Same with the anime. Ledo was in a society that bred what needed to be believed so that they could "survive" to the next thing. The likelihood of the war ever actually ending, though, was implausible. It took Ledo being planet bound in a society he didn't understand to see the errors of his ways. Even then, though, it leads to the thoughts of what is right and what is wrong in a black and white society. For all points and reasons, people could argue Stockholm Syndrome on Ledo's behalf."

Neda made a face as she pulled her legs up under her. "He put himself into the society, though. Learned their language. Does that really equate for Stockholm Syndrome?"

He shrugged. "Whether it does or doesn't, I'm just offering what people could argue about the anime."

She hummed in understanding. "So, going back to.....whatever that word was."

"Nihilism," he supplied.

"Yeah, that one!" she happily exclaimed. "Going back to it, do you think it actually showed up in Gargantia?"

He leaned back in his chair, tapping the end of his pen against the edge of his desk. "It may be possible. Especially when he discovers what exactly he had been killing. His entire existence was suddenly turned upside down and that would cause thoughts of meaninglessness and a thorough rejection of everything he knew."

She sat there, pondering it for a moment. He watched her, glasses in his free hand. He really had to admit, she was certainly becoming a gorgeous young woman, even if she had always been a bit odd. She was highly intelligent even when some subjects stumped her and the way her mind worked was incredible. She could pick out things he had never thought of thinking about when looking at things. The connections she's been able to create between different topics were impeccable, if not alarming at times. But even with that high intelligence and while being mature beyond her age, Neda's developmental stage was still close to the beginning of puberty. She barely noticed others in the same light as everyone noticed her. While she wasn't ignorant, she didn't fully comprehend the complexity of it all.

He loved everything about her.

They had known each other for over 15 years now. He had lost track to the number of people who had tried asking her out and she had been completely oblivious. It had been his entertainment over the years until he realized he had fallen for his best friend. The fond smile found its way to his face as he tipped his head to the side. Then it had just become too painful to keep track as he tried to get the courage to ask her out himself. He focused back on the conversation, stating, "He wouldn't have been able to have returned back to the life he had once lived."

She snorted and he got a glimpse of her intelligence as she spoke, "Of course not. He would have been too affected by his experience on planet. The whole last two episodes is a testament to that. Had he truly remained with the Commander, he would have been out of character. An experience like that doesn't leave you unmarked." She blinked. "Speaking of which, we're out of tamarind paste."

And there was an example of how seemingly random her thoughts could be. If he thought over what they had been talking about, he was pretty certain he could deduce how she had come to thinking about tamarind paste. He chuckled, putting his glasses back on. "Why do you need tamarind paste?"

"I was going to make lunch but then I got distracted by my friend - you know Kenzy - she wanted me to watch this anime she had just found and so I googled it and then I was all, "Only thirteen episodes? Ok. I can watch that in a week," and then I ended up binging the entire thing because it was that good!"

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose where his glasses sat, trying very hard not to crack up. "You literally needed tamarind paste five hours ago and you are just now getting about to getting more after you were reminded of what you needed?"

She grinned at him, her cheeks pink in embarrassment. "Hey, at least I hadn't actually started cooking yet. That would have been worse."

He laughed outright at that and she freed a leg to playfully kick him. "Well?" she asked. "Do you know a substitute or something?"

He got up from his desk. "Yes, I do. We may even had some more. Come on. I'll even help you cook."

"Yes!" Neda cheered, hopping off the bed. She fell into step beside him, bumping their sides together as she fell off balance for a moment. She grinned up at him, asking, "Hey, Brek. Think we'll ever make it to space in our lifetime?"

He shrugged, offering with another fond smile, "If we ever do, we'll be the generation that has the hardest time adjusting."

"You get that from studying history, or something?" she teased. Her expression gave away she already knew the counter to his statement.

He said it for her anyways. "Of course. After all, history repeats itself."

"Will you be there when it all happens again?"

He looked at her in surprise. She wasn't looking at him but her expression looked sad even though there was a smile on her lips. He felt terrible even though he had no control with how her mind went. But, then, after having watched Gargantia, it was no surprise her thoughts would turn to family and the horrors of her past at some point. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and he was glad she didn't shrug out of his touch. He pressed his face into her hair, promising against the locks, "Always."

"I'm glad," she confessed. She smiled up at him. "I would have hated to lose such a wonderful partner."

He buried his hand in her hair, the metal around his ring finger glinting briefly in the light before it was buried in her hair. "Same," he assured, even if all he could convey it with was just one word.
Inanimate Object Soap Opera

It is up to YOU to create a parody of a soap opera television show using various inanimate objects that you are free to choose. Each object will be in connection (or relation) to another object in some form and of your choosing. Make up your own soap opera story!



Limerick
lim•er•ick
ˈlim(ə)rik/
noun

a humorous, frequently bawdy, verse of three long and two short lines rhyming aabba, popularized by Edward Lear.
Your limerick must be five lines. You can submit up to two limericks



Big Boss Story

The writing prompt this year is: "That's what he said" Min. 1000 words and Max. 3000 words.



Paw-Print: My Story

They say that everyone has a side to them no one knows. They say that people project a different image of themselves on social media and online that is merely highlights, and not true to who people actually are or what their lives consist of.

Some think that this is true, too, for our non-human companions - our pets. They see almost everything we, people, do and we pay them little to no mind. So this is where you, players, tell us what our furry- scaly- feathery- friends see, know, and even do their on their own time.

What is the secret life of pets?



Poetry in Motion

Your challenge should you choose to accept it would be to write a poem.
A poem about Motion.
How you perceive motion.
Motion of the heart, motion of the world, motion of thought, time, place..
How do you choose to interpret motion in a poem setting.



A Dark and Stormy Cliche

So here's the fix! I want you write me a story - it doesn't have to be overly short or overly long, but do try to consider that there may be lots of you entering said competition, and that we need to judge all of you!) - utilising some of these awful starting lines that have all embedded themselves into our minds as some of the most dire cliché's in literature of all time. Using these, we want you create some great writing that makes us not want it to end!

Here's the list! -
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago.
It was a dark and stormy night.
They say that all's well that ends well, but he begged to differ.
She was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Little did I know, everything was about to change.
Record Scratch. 'Oooh...yeah...that's me. I bet you're wondering how I got here?'

"Ugh. I think I'm going to be sick."

The plastic statuette shifted away from the water bottle, attempting to look as affronted as a plastic mini cruise ship on a stand could look. "As long as it's not on me!" the plastic statuette exclaimed, shimmying farther away without much success. The shelf they were on together was already not very large and the statuette was already at the corner.

"Deep breaths, bottle," urged the pocket watch from a shelf below. "And, really, if you're going to be sick, do it on the carpet, not on the shelf."

"Easy for you to say," the water bottle wheezed.

"It's alright!" the pamphlet called from the table beneath the shelves. "He can lose his contents on me. I'll just absorb them!"

"That's very sweet of you," the towel folded into a monkey spoke, "but my brethren beside you would be a better choice for that."

The multicolored towel ruffled itself, glaring in a sorts at its white, oddly folded counterpart. "Excuse me!" they exclaimed. "I will have you know I am of high quality and am not made for cleaning up messes, unlike you."

There was a collective noise of shock and disbelief from the other objects in the room.

"Towel!" the backpack on the couch shouted. "Apologize, right now."

The colorful towel did its best impression of a sneer. "I don't see why I have to."

"Because you don't know your fate, Fresh One," came a thick, heavy voice from beneath the bed. All objects focused their attention on the duffle bag suitcase that slowly withdrew itself from the confines of the bed skirt. Nestled inside its open belly were several grocery bags, one of which shifted open as the clothing within freed themselves to look about. The other clothing in the bag shifted about, making room. "All end up either within myself or the backpack to return home."

The colorful towel deflated slightly. "This is not home?"

There was a spattering of giggles and laughter. Even the suitcase gave a deep chuckle. "No, Fresh One, this is not home. Home is much more than this single room."

The colorful towel looked about, not understanding. The backpack spoke up, though the words were softly guarded. "Do you know what an airplane is?"

The colorful towel nodded, puffing itself up again. "Of course! How do you think I got here?"

The backpack didn't engage in the bate but the suitcase took over. "It is alright, Fresh One. There are a many Fresh Ones that do not know what it is. Backpack is one of those."

The colorful towel looked to the backpack, surprise written in how the towel held itself. "Honestly?"

The backpack, for a lack of a better name for the action, nodded. "I knew what a car was. I was a school backpack for the longest time. I carried books, notebooks, and all sorts of trinkets and gadgets. I didn't know what an airplane even was till I was taken through a location I had never been. Let me tell you, being sent through the scanner for the first time without knowing what it was is the scariest thing ever. I was lucky that Suitcase was with me."

"I was made for travel," the suitcase spoke, "and that particular trip had only been another trip with our human."

The colorful towel seemed to frown. "Human?"

"The strange creature that pulled you out of your wrapper," the pocket watch chimed in. "They are quite kind, if not a bit rough at times."

"Not their fault," the suitcase assured the colorful towel when it was clear the words had disturbed it. "The human and every other of its kind are clumsy creatures and they are not always the most careful when dealing with us. We will break and tear from wear and use. You may get put away for months before you are used, if not years. I only come out when the human is traveling far from home for a large amount of time."

The backpack nodded, adding, "I am pulled out more frequently and left within easy access of our human. I am lucky to be able to watch their day to day life from where I'm stored."

The colorful towel looked around. "So where are we if not home?" the towel asked in a small voice.

"On what the human calls vacation," the backpack offered.

The suitcase agreed, adding, "Specifically, a cruise ship. A massive vessel that traverses water."
Limerick Entry 1 - Writer's Block
It was all I could do to think
My hand could not translate thought to ink
Every motion was forced
Every line was coerced
The resulting text was but a hoodwink

Limerick Entry 2 - Creative Flow
There is no thought with action
All task is brought to a fraction
All that is left is flow
Frustration is slow
Hypersensitive reaction
"Stay still and this won't hurt a bit."

"That's what he said!" she shouted in glee, dodging another shot with a trill of laughter. The scent of paint told her she had cut it rather close and that she would need to wash her hair. Again. A shot whizzed past her nose and she curled back as if doing the limbo, sliding across the floor on her knees. Ok, so egging him on when he was pissed probably wasn't the wisest ideas she'd ever had but he had totally left himself open for that and she was certain he knew that. She rolled back up to her feet, the backwards motion taking her out of aim of another shot. She twirled around, letting the motion help her throw her gun out, and she took aim as her body came to face what she was looking at. Three shots off and each one hit him dead center of the chest plate. She grinned at him. "I win!" she called.

"You wish!" a voice exclaimed but she dropped, rolling and realigning herself with the new target. Two shots went off, one to the face mask, the other to the chest. It threw off the new person enough that they crashed to the ground with a startled yelp. She turned, locking her sights on the last target and firing off four rounds. The first two missed but the third clipped the person in the shoulder and the fourth clipped them in the chest. The person spun but stayed standing. She grinned.

"Well played," the last person she had shot commented, straightening. "Your team wasn't all that talented."

She gave a bark of a laugh. "Yet I see only three of ten. I'd say we did pretty well."

"What, with you being the last one?" the second target challenged.

She gave them a flat look. "I took you out, didn't I?"

The second target raised a finger, mouth open as if ready to reply, only to close their mouth and let their finger wilt. The first opponent stepped forward, ending the discussion with, "They won, regardless of how. Go drop off your gear and get cleaned up. We head out in a half hour."

The two others nodded and walked off, second target bounding over to third target's side yammering away and seemingly completely content that third target wasn't really participating in the conversation. She couldn't make out the conversation in the first place so it was just as likely that second target wasn't letting the other have a chance. She looked to her first opponent and offered her hand, grinning. "Good game, Erickson."

He shook it, nodding. "Same to you, Smythe. Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

She shrugged, walking with him after the others. "I'v'e been taught here and there. Most of the time I just shove all the tidbits that I've learned elsewhere together and go from there."

He chuckled. "I'm impressed. Would have pegged you for a rookie if I didn't know better and if I had never seen you move like you did today."

The rest of their two teams were near the gear drop off. Those that had been taken out early were already cleaned up and changed. The two that she had pelted were just now taking off their gear.

"Why did your team have you stay untouched till the end?" Erickson inquired.

She shrugged. "It was more happenstance than anything else. I'm a scout. It's my job to get in and out without being caught and I ended up being last man standing because of it. There was talk about taking out as many as possible before all succumbed to fire. The goal was already set before the game so, when I became last man standing against three, I had a few team members try and talk me out of going up against you three by myself."

"Why didn't you listen?"

They had stopped before the edge of the large group, well out of earshot of anyone that wanted to try and listen in. Her expression closed off a bit at that. "Because I knew I couldn't go down without giving it my all. It was just shear luck that the other two showed up when they did. Otherwise time may have run out before I was able to take them out as well."

He hummed. "That's not a bad strategy, at least."

"Keeping one man hidden?" she verified and he nodded. "That's only a good plan if you're down to the wire but it's also poor strategy. That's working with the thought that your enemy would never come across that man while said man was trying to stay out of harms way."

Erickson hummed again, this time in agreeance.

A siren blared. It was like someone had lit a fire under each person there. Bodies were suddenly moving towards the exit and both Smythe and Erickson were apart of that still fully decked out in the paintball gear. Smythe kept right with Erickson as they entered the gear room with everyone else.

"What's happening," Erickson demanded.

"We have bogies coming in," a tactician spoke, rushing over with a tablet that Erickson took and started skimming. "Large number. Your team is being requested to go through and take out all that you can with Colonel Salazar's team."

Erickson glanced at Smythe. "Guess that means we'll be working together this time."

She grinned, though she gave him a proper salute. "I am eager to work alongside you, Colonel."

He nodded and handed the tablet back to the tactician. "Get Colonel Salazar this information. Inform him that I will be expecting a brief word before his team goes out. I am not mistaken that his team is going out first?"

"No, sir," the tactician confirmed. "the Colonel is slated to go out first. It is stated that his team will be reconnaissance. Your team is bringing the fire power."

Erickson nodded and the tactician left. Smythe ducked out before Erickson could speak with her more. She had information to make sure made it to her lead and she beat the tactician to the man. "Colonel," she happily chimed. "We've got ordered."

"Oh?" he asked, passing her an actual weapon. "And what are they, per say?"

"Orders to intersect bogies," the tactician cut in, offering the tablet to Salazar. Smythe rocked back and forth on her feet, excited. "Your team is going out first, sir. Colonel Erickson will be bringing in the firepower."

Salazar nodded, handing back the tablet. "Thank you."

The tactician left without another word. Salazar turned to Smythe and arched an eyebrow. She saluted, though it was sloppy at the edges. "Ready to go scouting, sir."

"Good. I need all the information you can get for me on these bogies before we actually engage them." He handed her gear that she quickly traded the paintball gear for. "Don't forget to keep Colonel Erickson in the loop."

Fully decked out, she gave him a perfect salute. "Of course, Colonel. At your leave, sir."

"Be careful, Smythe. We don't know what we're up against."

She nodded and ducked out of the room. She booked it through the base, running as fast as she could without creaming anyone. When she made it to the hangar, she hopped onto a hoverbike and shot out of there, ignoring protocol for not the first time and most likely not the last. There were several shouts of distaste at her actions but she ignored them.

The helmet visor activated once she left the confines of the compound, scrolling through the report and giving her a location. She pushed the bike as hard as she dared.

"Status, Smythe," Salazar's voice crackled over the radio.

"Three minutes out. ETA to first informal report is seven minutes."

"Understood."

Two minutes later, she cut the engine and made sure the bike was tucked away out of sight before continuing on foot. She caught visual under half a minute. She cussed.

"Smythe?" It was Erickson's voice this time.

"We're up against a large group of close to two thousand, all heavily armed. They all appear to be heavily armored and well armed. This is going to have to be quick and dirty."

"That's what he said," came the dry reply.

She snorted as Salazar questioned, "Erickson, did you....did you just make the joke I think you made?"

"Yep," the man replied. "And I don't regret it for a second."

She grinned wide. "That's what he said."

There were groans from both men.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, his life had been so much simpler. Or had it been last week? His eyes suddenly widened in horror. Gods above it had only been last week! He suddenly felt like crying.

"Yo, Turk. You alright, dude?" his companion asked.

Tucker - his companion likes to call him Turk for whatever reason - gave his companion an exaggerated sad face. "I just remembered last week."

His companion blinked at him, processing that statement, before they reached over and patted him on the head. "There, there, Turk," they consoled him. "You're boring life is waiting for you as soon as you make it through this."

He swatted their hand away, the expression dropping away as quickly as he had placed it. "Oh please. You and I both know that things will never be the same. For one, my house no longer exists."

His companion sweated, giving a nervous grin as they rubbed the back of their head. "Aw, yeah. I've said I was sorry."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "And that still doesn't change the fact that my nice, lovely, stress-free life is no longer an option."

"Least you've got me?" his companion tried.

He gave them a flat look. "I'd much rather the others than you."

His companion's expression turned hurt but he knew it was only for show. His companion knew the words were not overly accurate. Tucker enjoyed their company immensely, even after that rough first meeting and then suddenly being dragged on an adventure he did not ask for on any level. He also trusted his companion on a higher level than the rest of their party but it was not due to their actions. Tucker just hadn't found reason to really interact with the others beyond necessity. His companion, however, seemed to be tightly woven into the group and interacted with the party just as much as they interacted with him. Which actually got his mind back to the party where it had been before he had gotten distracted by nostalgic thoughts of home. "Speaking of the others, how are they doing?"

His companion sobered up instantly, not needing any explanation. They knew who he was talking about. After all, the pair were prepping medicine and bandages for them. "They haven't gotten worse but Kirk isn't too sure they're getting better, either."

Tucker sighed. "May the Fates smile upon us and help them to better soon."

His companion placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Hey. At least they have your help. I don't think Kirk would have been able to have done as much as you have. These lands are still rather foreign to all of us, except you."

"Lucky me," he offered softly.

He stood up with the fresh bandages and medicine in hand, his companion picking up what remained. They moved to the main camp area. It was somber around the campfire. Many eyes glanced their way and Tucker felt relieved that none of them showed disdain towards him like the past week. He probably hadn't helped that with whining as much as he had and, in their current situation, shame colored his cheeks. Again he vowed to do better, just as he had when the twins had fallen ill.

It had been no one's intentions to have such young ones joining them on this little adventure but sometimes things happen and young ones can be rather stubborn. When Tucker entered the tent, he found that the twins were thankfully not alone. Kirk was there, as was the twins' guardian looking exhausted and drawn out. Tucker's heart went to them as he knelt beside Kirk. "I brought what I could make."

"It helps," Kirk assured him, taking the items. "Thank you."

"How long till we can move?" a voice asked from the tent's opening. It was the leader of the party. Tucker still didn't understand how his companion outranked this man yet chose to remain under him.

Kirk shook his head. "Until they wake, I do not advice moving them."

Tucker glanced at the man still standing in the tent opening, expecting the short fuse the man had to go off. But, instead, the man merely nodded. "Let me know when they are cleared to be moved. But we may need to keep moving regardless."

The man swept out and Kirk sighed. Tucker placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and Kirk patted it. "I'm alright. It's just hard trying to do what I can knowing that we need to keep moving."

"We can see about making some sort of stretcher for them," Tucker's companion offered.

"We may not have a choice," Kirk agreed, "and he may not be happy about it but they cannot ride in their conditions, not even with someone else. It'll only make them worse."

Tucker's companion stood. "I'll go talk to him about it." They looked to the twins' guardian. "Care to help me, Alex?"

The twins' guardian nodded, standing and silently following Tucker's companion out. This left Tucker alone with Kirk and two unconscious youths. Tucker got up, moving to the other twin as Kirk started tending to the one before him.

"I wish there was more I could do," Tucker confessed once he had finished tending to the twin.

"What you are doing is helping tremendously," Kirk assured.

Tucker shook his head. "But I've very little knowledge in medicine. I know the plants only because of my mother and her studies of them in medicine. I only learned a few small recipes and none of them are useful."

"That's not true," Kirk countered sharply. "This paste you keep making has helped keep infection away from every wound I have treated. It has even helped the skin mend smoother. Not to mention your know how if far different from mine, filling in the gaps that would have been left if you had never gotten caught up in our mess."

Tucker ran a hand through the twin's hair. "Still doesn't feel like enough."

Kirk gave him a tight smile. "Usually doesn't."

Tucker's companion stuck their head into the tend. "Turk, when yer done, we could use a hand." Their gaze turned to Kirk. "He was actually all for it, surprisingly enough."

Kirk arched an eyebrow. "Was that because you told him this is what you were doing or because you asked?"

Tucker's companion grinned. "Yes." Their head disappeared and Kirk chuckled, shaking his head.

Tucker got to his feet, pausing at the tent's entrance. "Will you be alright, Kirk?"

"I'll manage," the older man assured him, waving him off.

Turk wasn't sure he believed him.
It is still, nary a leap from me, as I prepare to pounce, tail moving from side to side as I ready both back legs. I still.

I pounce.

The white round thing goes round and round in the odd green thing with the place to scratch and I watch it, never once taking my eyes off the fast white round thing. It eventually gets caught by the movable tunnels and I go after it again, causing it to go around and be stopped by my foreleg. I bat at it again, hiding myself under the movable tunnels partially so that the white round thing cannot see me.

There's a noise and it distracts me from my game. I look up, eyes going to the climbing floor on the other side of the climbing trees to see the two-legs coming down the climbing floor from the higher floor above. I scramble upright. I do not mind the two-legs that live here. There are two of them and they feed me and play with me, but sometimes they try and pick me up and I do not like being picked up.

My first week here was not nice. I was scared and not feeling well and the two-legs were always picking me up and trapping me and holding me down so that I could not run and hide. They would force icky water down my throat and I hated icky water. The thing that gives icky water hurt my mouth, too. The two-legs forcing icky water on me would always press a point on my mouth that made my jaw go all funny and make me open wide. I hated the two-legs for that and always hid from them because of it.

But that was a long time ago but I still fear the trap and the icky water so I avoid upright two-legs. When two-legs is sitting on ground or is replenishing food and water or is sitting on the odd seat that sounds as if it water flows in it when they sit on it, two-legs are safe to approach. Most of the time.

The odd seat that the two-legs sit on that sounds as if water flows in it or makes a strange noise when the two-legs steps away after returning their fur to their body will forever be a mystery and not always the safest place to interact with the two-legs. The taller two-legs is the younger, or so says my littermate. He is older littermate and is not of same litter but still littermate. He came to this litter from a different litter. We were brought to this litter together. He says that the taller is younger because his last litter - he calls it home and says that is what two-legs call litter (he actually called it terry tory but I don't know what terry tory is and I like litter) - had younger and older of different sizes that never matched age. He says older cats not of litter he was with before we were brought to this litter were smaller than him. I was smaller than all before coming to litter so I do not know if I believe him. The taller two-legs - whether younger or not - has grown to touching me more often. I am not sure I am ok with touch.

Some touch is nice. Taller two-legs will rub the spot on my chin and on my neck that always feels so good. They will run their not walking paw down my back, sometimes scratching in areas, and that feels nice till it feels weird. Now taller two-legs has begun rubbing not walking paw on my belly and I am not sure if I like it or not. Littermate plays with me sometimes and he is much bigger than I am and so he often pins me on my back. I do not mind. He does not harm me and sometimes the two-legs make noises when we play like that. Taller two-legs will be sitting on odd seat sounding of water and lean over, shaking not walking paw against my stomach and I will paw at it and bite it but I never harm. Littermate shows me not to harm and two-legs both make noises that scare me when I harm. They never touch me when they scare me, never harm me, but I still fear the days of the icky water so I never harm. Well, try not to, anyways. Taller two-legs continues to play with me even if harm is accident. I cannot help my claws and how they scratch. They are meant for scratching and two-legs's not walking paws are not made for play like littermate and I am. Our fur protects us. Two-legs don't always have fur on not walking paws if ever.

Taller two-legs leaves litter quite often out opening and closing wall to area beyond see through walls. There are see through walls on this floor and the higher floor. They all are facing the same direction. Littermate told me so. Littermate says that space beyond see through walls is larger terry tory. He says it has larger area to play and hunt. I do not know if I care to see larger area. Littermate misses it. Taller two-legs seems to know this but does not let him beyond the opening and closing wall.

Today, taller two-legs has come down from higher floor with no fur on. I am confused but do not move from where I have settled in the protection of the climbing trees. Taller two-legs walks beyond where I can see them and I hurry to follow, to catch sight, because they do not move into the space beyond the hole wall. The hole wall leads to where the two-legs make interesting noises and scents from, sometimes giving us foods that are different from what food and water is already laid out for us. Taller two-legs crosses through with fur in hand. I do not move. I have settled beside comfy floor with no underspace like comfy floor with underspace on the higher floor above. Two-legs never touch me when I stay here if they have something in their not walking paws. I watch taller two-legs pass and rush up climbing trees to follow. Taller two-legs enters small space with box for relieving, strange noises coming from odd seat of water sounds. Littermate is already there, up on high ledge where it seems water is for he drinks and splashes. I hear it but I do not like high ledge. Taller two-legs has put me up there before and I do not like tall ledges.

Taller two-legs never fully closes opening and closing wall, always leaving room for me and littermate to come and go as we please. I watch taller two-legs go beyond soft wall into space that has fast water. Littermate likes to go beyond the soft wall but I do not like the box beyond the soft wall. There is a lot of noise and the taller two-legs is there without fur. I also do not care for fast water like my littermate does. He is fascinated by the fast water. I do not know why.

I return to outside opening and closing wall, laying near the small wall between two opening and closing walls. Littermate has settled on the hard floor beyond the opening and closing wall. I do not like hard floor. I prefer soft floor. Soft floor does not cause me to slip about like hard floor does.

Taller two-legs steps out from beyond the soft wall when the fast water stops. They do odd things with a soft before hanging the soft up and putting on fur. Two-legs fur was nothing like littermate's and my fur and it was not to be cleaned by the tongue like our fur. At least, littermate says so and I trust him on this one. Two-legs fur does not look like it would be good to clean with tongue anyways.

Taller two-legs then digs about the two boxes for relieving that are on the higher floor. Somehow taller two-legs makes boxes for relieving empty of past poops and makes the pee spots fresher again. I never can figure out how taller two-legs and sometimes shorter two-legs does it with the weird green bag.

Taller two-legs it making noises. Littermate tells me I will come to understand a good amount of the noises as time passes. I can tell when both two-legs are calling me. I recognize the noise that littermate says is my name but I do not understand it. He will not tell me what it is. He says I will know with time.

I am a vicious little killer. He will tell me because I tell him to. He pins me every time I try and show him how vicious I am and says that these words were given to me from the taller two-legs. This surprised me. Maybe I am learning the two-legs's noises faster than I thought.

Break

The same motion every day
Routine
Bend over

Kneel

Lift

Drag
Push

Pull

Squat
Stand

No movement is a luxury



Same routine, different thoughts
Change

Calm interaction
Heated discussion

Passionate tale
Careful offer

Regretted words
Self doubt

Self hate

Triggered turmoil

Broken



Motion
Constant motion
Body

Mind

Never still



A trigger

Anxiety

Thoughts move faster
Panic attack

Body moves faster



Can't breathe
Too much thought
Not enough space





Not enough silence








Too much motion

Writing Marathon

This event forces writers out of their comfort zone and into the challenge presented. Every day a new prompt will be available for writers to look at and take upon the challenge of. The writer is given 48 hours to complete the prompt and post it here in its respected thread.

Day 01 - Please have mercy on me!
Day 02 - And I'm free falling
Day 03 - But one soul lies anxious, wide awake
Day 04 - I'm jealous of the rain.
Day 05 - Sometimes I feel like I can rule the world
Day 06 - I love you 'til the sun dies.
Day 07 - Sing me a song for the ocean to part
Day 08 - Ain't got a care in world, but got plenty of beer.
Day 09 - If we can't have it all then nobody will
Day 10 - I had my heart set on you.
Day 11 - If it makes you happy
Day 12 - Your need is driven on
Day 13 - Fight fire with fire
Day 14 - I don't understand why you're so cold.
Day 15 - Forgive me father, I have sinned
Day 16 - Tell me what you want, what you really really want
Day 17 - I want it that way
Day 18 - Larger than life
Day 19 - You are my sweetest downfall
Day 20 - If there is a higher place to be
Day 21 - She broke your throne and cut your hair.
Day 22 - You're hot and you're cold
Day 23 - Have you ever seen the rain?
Day 24 - You float like a feather in a beautiful world.
Day 25 - Ready or not, here I come!
Day 26 - Somewhere in time I will find you and haunt you again
Day 27 - Love is an open door
Day 28 - Trying to forget
Day 29 - I remember a song, like in a dream
Day 30 - But in the end, It doesn't even matter
"Please have mercy on me!"

The beggar cowered in the mud as lightning cracked overhead. He stared down at the man, wide eyed and not believing anything he was processing. He had been raised to believe that the world outside the castle had been a utopia for all, that there were no more beggars, that all famine and war had been removed from the world, but the man before him - scarred, missing his left arm below the elbow, and clearly starving without a home - was a clear sign that all he had been taught was a lie.

He felt sick.

The man flinched when he offered the muddy beggar a hand. There was clear hesitation and confusion before the man took his hand and accepted the aid to standing. Before the beggar could even react, he had already placed his heavy, expensive over the man's bony shoulders, protecting him from the icy rain.

"Do you have a home?" he asked, already suspecting the answer. The beggar shook his head. He placed a comforting hand on the beggar's back. "Come on. The temple is not far from here. They-"

The man jerked from his touch, scrambling to get away as the cloak fell into the mud. Again, he turned a bewildered, wide eyed gaze onto the beggar as the man blurted out, "Not there. Anywhere but the temple. Please don't take me there."

He looked to his companion and his expression must have conveyed his plea for help because his still heavily cloaked companion walked over to the beggar and got down on his level. Words too soft for him to make out over the rain were told to the beggar and he let out a relieved sigh when the beggar visibly relaxed. He scooped up the cloak as his companion helped the beggar to his feet. He followed his companion and beggar through the rain drenched streets, ignoring the looks they were getting.

The inn was dimly lit but warm when they entered from the storm. Running a trembling hand through his hair, he did his best to suppress his shivering as he stood with the beggar near the door as the companion talked with the bartender. He let his gaze wander, taking in the main room as his eyes adjusted to the low light.

There were a number of tables and booths in the main area. It reminded him of how one of the ballrooms would be arranged during large parties, how there would be tables set up in some artistic pattern and only meant for those that wish to sit and chat. Never did all the tables fill the room. There was usually on a small portion of the room taken up but the entire room in the inn was filled with tables, booths lining the walls as two separate fires roared on opposite sides of the large space.

And it wasn't empty. There were patrons all about and, if he wasn't mistaken, this inn also passed as a place to just come and eat as well. As his gaze took in a group of suspicious people in one of the far corners, his companion returned, offering, "We have a room."

He turned his attention on his companion and nodded, placing a hand on the beggar's back. "Lead the way, please," he offered politely.

His companion led them up the main flight of stairs and down the left hallway. However, instead of taking one of those rooms, his companion opened another door to reveal another staircase. They started walking and he dutifully followed with the beggar between them. They went up two more floors before the companion stepped out into the hallway and making their way towards one of the rooms. He noted that the room was situated on the back of the building and placed in the hallway where either staircase - whether the main or the one they had just come up - were within equal distance. His companion unlocked the door and stepped in. The beggar followed and he closed the door behind the three of them, locking it. His companion was speaking softly with the beggar again but he paid them no mind. Instead, he went over to the window and looked out. It was hard, with the window being pelted with rain, but it seemed as if beneath there window within a safe distance was a roof they could land on if they needed a quick escape.

"Hard to get to, many ways to get out," he commented when he heard the shower start up. His companion seemed to materialize beside him and they hummed an affirmation. "Will he be alright?"

His companion nodded. "I bought an outfit from the innkeep. It should fit him just fine."

He nodded and turned his gaze back out the window.
40 minutes later, the beggar was stepping out in a new shirt and trousers, his hair a fluffy grey mane about his neck. The beggar walked to his companion and bowed, touching the hem of the cloak they had yet to shed. "Thank you, stranger."

"Do not thank me," his companion stated, though there was no visible reaction the beggar's touch or movement. "It was not my money, nor was it my idea."

The beggar turned his gaze to him and he found himself blushing under that haunting blue gaze. "Thank you," the beggar spoke but made no move to approach. Silence hung thick in the air till a knock on the door broke it briefly. His companion went and answered the door, accepting the food that had been ordered. Returning, the companion set the food on the room's table and turned to both men. "Eat. We'll talk later."

His stomach growled loudly and he gave a chuckle of a laugh, grinning. "Sounds good to me. Thank you, Advena."

"Is that your name?" the beggar asked his companion.

His companion shook their head. "No. It is what he calls me because I do not have a name. It means 'stranger' in Latin."

"'The stranger'," he corrected as he took a plate. He gave both a soft smile, "though there are some other meanings it can take depending on context just as there are words in our tongue that have multiple meanings."

The beggar nodded as he also took a plate, though it was not as full as his. "It is fitting." His companion did not acknowledge the statement. The beggar looked to him. "What is your name, then?"

"Diggory," he offered easily, though he hesitated to say more. He didn't want to have what he was known by many.

The beggar either didn't notice his hesitation or merely respected his need to keep secrets because the man offered his name in turn. "I am Roderick."

Diggory frowned slightly. "Roderick, if I may ask, why did you not want to go to the temple?"

Roderick shuddered. "I cannot go there. Not again."

"But why?" he asked, nearly pleading. "I don't understand. I was always told things were good for all within this kingdom. Why would there be any place that the people fear? Do they mistreat you?"

The man's haunting blue eyes were on him again and Diggory felt as if his very soul was being judged against some unknown standard. Whatever the man saw or didn't see, it seemed to ease him and Roderick settled more into his seat, plate still in hand. "I am not surprised that they have kept you in the dark, Prince Diggory." Diggory blushed bright red and Roderick's lips twitched towards a smile. "The temples are a place of torture. They are used to not only gather information, but to use those that do not have home or are not of use to the kingdom and give them a use." The beggar took a shuddering breath. "I used to go to the temple regularly like every upstanding citizen but my eyes were opened to the manipulation somewhere along the way and those of the temple did not appreciate that. At first the reform program was very mild. But, when I started rejecting even the reform and the fundamental teachings, that's when the true reform began."

His eyes seemed to glaze over with memory as he spoke. "I was injected with something one day on my way home. At first, there was pain. Searing scorching pain. But, then, there was blessed peace. And I'm free falling." His face lit up. "I always loved flying. Enjoyed it while in the war all those years ago. But then the bliss of the free fall was over and I suddenly found myself in a room, bound to a table with a light above me, and the true torturing began."

Roderick shuddered. "They experimented on me, used me as some sort of specimen. I was lucky enough to leave with the most of my sanity and life. Very few in there ever make it out alive."

Diggory swallowed heavily. "But why are the temples used that way?"

Roderick shrugged, gathering some of his food on his fork. "That would be something to ask whoever is the head of the temples."
They ate in silence. Diggory noticed that Advena didn't touch the food but he didn't worry about it. They would eat at some point. As he took Roderick's cleared plate and placed it on the tray.

"What are you doing outside the castle, Diggory?" Roderick asked.

Diggory stilled, back towards the beggar and his companion. He let his eyes close before taking a breath and turning around, looking to Roderick. "I was curious. We generally have all entertainment brought to the castle but I wanted to see a market during a celebration. I, uh, may have gotten into trouble on the way and ended up way out here. Advena had been with me since the, uh, mess I ended up in."

The man nodded. "Sounds like you owe Advena quite a bit."

Diggory looked to his companion, noting that they were turning down one of the beds. "I owe them my life. They've saved it at least twice now and that's only what I'm aware of."

Roderick looked to the still cloaked figure. "Is that even-"

"You'd both best get some sleep," Advena spoke. Roderick closed his mouth. "We have had quite the day."

"Will you be sleeping with us?" Diggory asked, his hope that they would rather obvious. He didn't miss Roderick frowning.

Advena bowed slightly. "Eventually. Get some rest."

Roderick moved more onto the bed he was sitting on as Diggory started to shed his outer most layers. The room was warm compared to the past nights sleeping on the ground but Diggory felt more comfortable staying as dressed as he could and still sleep comfortably. Advena exited the room with the tray.

"Where are they going?" Roderick asked.

Diggory shrugged, tucking his knife under his pillow. And putting his other weapons on the floor on the far side of the bed. "Don't worry too much about Advena. You can trust them."

"How?" Roderick challenged. "Do you even know what they're face looks like?"

Diggory smiled gently, sliding beneath the covers. "No, but I still trust them." He turned the lights off and settled down. "Sleep well, Roderick."

"You as well, my Prince."

Silence fell over the room and hours passed but one soul lies anxious, wide awake. The door opens with a soft click before closing with barely a sound. Roderick feigned sleep, listening to the intruder cross the room. He opened his eyes and took in the faint outline of Advena at the table. He watched with bated breath as the stranger reached up and removed their hood.

It took all Roderick had to not gasp.

Long pale hair seemed to glow blue as the heavy cloak dropped free of lithe shoulders revealing an equally lithe body covered in a body suit that was nothing like he had ever seen. It had strips in the fabric that glowed blue, illuminating the entire room in the gentle light.

The stranger turned and Roderick was caught starting into silver blue eyes.
He tried to will himself to speak an apology or at least look away, but he was entranced and nothing he attempted came to fruition. Advena blinked at him before reaching down and gathering their cloak. The break in eye contact was the catalyst he didn’t realize he had needed and he rushed in a carefully low voice, “I-I’m sorry. I hadn’t-I was just curious. I didn’t mean to–”

Advena straightened, their expression amused. Roderick was suddenly struck with the thought that this figure was neither male nor female, that this figure was barely even human. Advena blinked at him again, though the soft smile never left. “It is fine, Roderick,” they offered. “There is no harm.”

“But what are you?” he implored, the words rushing passed his lips before he could think twice.

Advena’s movement to drape the cloak over the back of the chair slowed but did not still. When Advena looked at Roderick again, they wore a neutral expression that spoke of mild curiosity. “I am simply me.”

“No family, no history?” Roderick inquired, frowning. Advena shook their head, the pale locks floating with the motion. Roderick equated it with hair moving underwater. It was very disconcerting. “No memories.”

Advena gained an endearing smile. “I have memories but they do not speak of my past all that well. I follow Diggory because I feel compelled to. It does not help that it seems that is what my purpose is either.”

“What do you mean?”

Advena gained a thoughtful look. “I have always been with him. All my memories point to him. I have been only with Diggory.”

Roderick frowned. “How has he not seen your face, then?”

Advena’s expression fell, though they kept a smile on their face, as sad as it was. “He has. Some things are best forgotten, though.”

“You’ve been with him since the castle?”

“I have been with him since he was born.”

Roderick’s mind skidded to a stop as he looked from Advena to Diggory, and back again. There was no way he was that bad of a judge of age. “But you look younger than him,” he choked.

Advena blinked at him. “I do not age.”

It was like ice filled his veins and he couldn’t seem to speak as the pitter patter of the rain on the window suddenly grew louder. Advena’s gaze turned to the covered window before an expression Roderick couldn’t read crossed the strange being’s face. “I'm jealous of the rain.”

The nonsequential question eased some of Roderick’s worry as concern for this strange being surfaced in the chaos of his mind. “How so?” he asked gently.

“The rain is fleeting. It comes and goes and, while some do not care for it while others cherish its presence, it falls without a care, replenishing drinking water and encouraging plant life to grow.” Advena’s expression shut down. “It wreaks havoc during flash flooding or causes landslides and mudslides due to either erosion or decreasing friction between the top layers of earth. But still it remains part of a continuous cycle that keeps all life flourishing. I have never had such a touch on the world and I never will.”

“I doubt that,” Roderick readily countered, but even he doubted his own words.

Advena sent him an appreciative smile. “All I have ever done has been for Diggory and even he does not remember.” Advena did something and the glowing strips started to dim. “Get some rest, Roderick. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Roderick lost sight of Advena as the darkness settled in thickly and, while he was determined to speak once more, he found himself slowly coming to after having not dreamed. Or, at least, he was fairly certain he hadn’t dreampt.
Diggory smiled at Roderick, seeing the beggar rousing from sleep. “Morning!” he chirped, finishing the lacing of his boot. “Advena’s gone to get breakfast prepped downstairs. They said to join them when you’re up and ready to go.” He gestured to the end of Roderick’s bed. “They even got you additional attire to go with what was purchased yesterday.”

Roderick picked up the odd fabric, frowning at it. Diggory let his smile stay on his face. He had expected that reaction.

“What is this made of?”

Diggory stood up, offering, “Several different materials. It’s mostly cotton but there’s a synthetic blend to it as well as wiring for tech.”

Roderick blinked at him. “Tech? Synthetic?”

Diggory nodded. “I didn’t expect you to really know what those were. A lot of what I’ve known apparently hasn’t made it this far. The city around the castle is thriving in all sorts of things you won’t recognize. That was one of the few things I was surprised about when I arrived here.”

Roderick pulled on the strange vest and Diggory noted that his lack of an actual answer hadn’t been missed. The startled surprise when the vest fit perfectly was pleasing, at least. Diggory looked out the window. “Sometimes I feel like I can rule the world with how primitive everything is. A simple word here or there, a show of power, coming in with armor that cannot be penetrated by what the people have…” His words died off as he got lost in thought. He sighed, looking to Roderick to see fear in the blue gaze upon him. He was glad that it was no longer haunting. He offered a sad smile. “Don’t worry. I have no interest in ruling the world like some dictator. I want a world alliance, one that keeps its own powers in check. I want the expanse of knowledge to be carried out freely and material given readily. I want something close to a utopia, not a concurred planet.”

Roderick slipped the trench coat on, rolling up the sleep of his left arm to just above his stump. “But that doesn’t explain what tech and synthetic is.”

“The definition I am using for synthetic is – and I’m paraphrasing to a point – material created by humans, generally through a chemical process versus the material being of organic origin like cotton or linen,” Diggory explained. “Tech is short for technology and, in this case, is dealing with equipment that does more than it seems in a fashion that will startle you.” Diggory gave a sheepish grin. “That is a horrible definition but I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Roderick pressed his palm over his vest. “So I’m supposed to have additional, what, tools attached to this?”

Diggory shrugged. “In a sense. Until we get the necessary parts and pieces, it’s just used as a locator between you, me, and Advena.”

Roderick gave him a skeptical look. “I can be tracked by this?”

“Only by me and Advena.” He grinned. “Hopefully.” He touched his own vest, stating, “My vest is rather similar to yours, just of a higher caliber. Yours will be fine for what we need it. We can always upgrade it when we reach a larger city.”

Roderick made a face. “You do realize I only got about half of that, right?”

Diggory clapped Roderick on the shoulder. “Of course! Now come on. Advena’s waiting.”
The pair made their way down, easily finding Advena among the surprisingly crowded main room. Advena was once more heavily cloaked but not sitting along as Diggory had expected. There was a rugged gentleman sitting at the table appearing to be conversing with Advena.

Diggory walked over, curious on who the stranger was and what they wanted. He could feel Roderick's unease.

Advena and the man stood at their approach and Advena spoke first. "This is Hunter. He'll be taking us to the next town."

Diggory's gaze snapped to the man, a smile on his face. "I do hope we are not causing you any trouble with this task."

Hunter shook his head. "I have been heading to Sunnik from Alkria. It was luck that your companion caught me when they did."

"Advena's good at that. Have you two eaten yet?"

Just as the words left Diggory's mouth, one of the staff brought breakfast to the table. Hunter looked at the food before commenting, "No, we haven't." He looked back at Diggory while Roderick sat down. "I will be leaving in an hour. I will meet you three at the south exit from town."

"You can join us," Diggory encouraged. "There is plenty here."

Hunter shook his head. "Another time, perhaps."

Diggory nodded and watched as Hunter walked away before sitting and partaking of the food.

Within the hour, the trio was waiting by the south road out of town. Hunter came into view on a horse drawn cart, two saddled horses trailing behind.

"I have a horse for you and your cloaked friend," Hunter told Diggory before looking to Roderick. "Wasn't sure if you could ride so you'll ride with me."

Roderick nodded and climbed up to sit beside Hunter while Advena went to unhitch the other two horses. Diggory's gaze wandered over Hunter's cart. "Are you a blacksmith?"

"My brother is," Hunter corrected. "He doesn't care for making the trips to those that commission him from out of town." Hunter grinned. "He also doesn't care for going to markets to sell wears either so I do it for him. In turn, he watches my kids and keeps me employed."

Diggory took the reins from Advena. "Older or younger, if I may ask?"

Hunter puffed up with pride. "Younger, by quite a number, and he's the best around."

Diggory swung himself into the saddle, the horse stepping sideways before pawing the ground, shaking its mane. Diggory gently pulled at the reins to get the horse to turn and it complied, begrudgingly. "I am looking to replace my knight for a dagger. When we stop next, may I shop your wears?"

"Absolutely." Hunter righted himself. "Next town's a day and a half ride so we best be off."

With a flick of his wrist, the cart jerked forward. Diggory gently heeled the horse's sides and, though it snorted in distaste, it followed suit. Advena settled their horse at Diggory's side and the pair kept pace.

The road stayed busy till they were beyond the fields. From one moment to the next, they were alone. When it really came clear they were alone on this leg of the journey, Hunter and Roderick started chatting and really hit it off. The road also narrowed, forcing Advena and Diggory to trail behind the cart.

"I'm so glad that Roderick has made a friend," Diggory confessed when the two men broke out in roaring laughter. "I was worried he'd end up not having anything to turn to once we left."

"I doubt he'll leave before your tale ends, Diggory," Advena returned. "He's taken a liking to you as well."

Diggory gained a wistful look. "You think so?"

"I know so." Diggory glanced over and caught sight of Advena's soft smile. Advena's gaze was on him, gentle and kind. "I love you 'til the sun dies. I am wholly devoted to you and it has nothing to do with what you are but who you are." They nodded towards the chatting men. "And I am certain that they in turn will love you as I do."

Diggory's expression was sober. "I hope you're right."
They came to a stop at what Diggory realized was an old fork in the road. Hunter looked back at Diggory and Advena, informing them, "If we branch off, we could have a place to hunker down before dark that's a lot more guarded than the route ahead."

"Do you usually branch off here?" Diggory asked.

Hunter shrugged. "When I get the chance."

Diggory nodded. "Then lead the way."

Hunter nodded and faced forward, snapping the reins in his hand to get the horse moving. He pulled gently, getting the horse to take the offpath, the one that Diggory hadn't even seen at first. Diggory looked to Advena. "How often do you think this path is taken?"

Advena shook their head. "It probably gets over looked. Old maps label this as the main way to Sunnik when Mortis was still a thriving village. But, since the town suddenly became a ghost town a few years ago, the trail has been used less and less. Not to mention that the other path had been put in around the same time and cut travel time down by two days."

Diggory blinked. "Seriously?" Advena nodded. He looked towards Hunter, though excitement colored his words. "Are we stopping in Mortis?"

Hunter glanced back, surprised. "Not really. There's ruins of a home not far ahead and it provides pretty good cover. If you want to see Mortis, we can. I don't really have much of a schedule to keep."

Diggory bounced in his saddle as Advena gave him an endearing look while Roderick turned around. He shook his head. "I am not staying in a haunted village. Not a chance."

Diggory grinned. "We don't have to stay in it. We can just take this trail to Sunnik."

Hunter glanced back. "I wasn't up for that large of a detour but I did say you could see it if you wanted."

"Please no," Roderick moaned.

"To Mortis!" Diggory cheered, throwing a hand to the air. His horse snorted, pawing the ground.

"Gods protect us," Roderick moaned, slouching in his seat.

They came to where Hunter normally hunkered down and Advena and Roderick helped the man set up while Diggory tended to the horses. A soft noise drew Diggory's attention to the surrounding trees and he stilled, looking to the surrounding trees. If he wasn't mistaken, it sounded like singing. He made sure the horses were all tethered before heading towards the sound.

It was quite the walk but, eventually, He came across a break in the trees that opened up to a hidden pond. He stopped before the clearing, spotting a ghostly figure standing at the edge. Her words were clearer here.

"Sing me a song for the ocean to part,
To guide my sails true to my destination.
Lead me on to where my heart desires,
Please don't lead me astray.
Find me a route so true to home that I feel you there.

Sing me a song for the stars to shine,
To illuminate the way I need to go.
Show me just how far I need to go,
Please don't let me stray.
Find me the point that I can call home.

Sing me a song, sing it to me,
And let me hear it on the winds
No matter how far I go."

The words hung in the air but she didn't move, didn't react, and Diggory didn't know what to do.
"Myra, what are you doing out here?"

Diggory shuddered as a phantom of a figure passed through him. The world around bled away to reveal a forest in the bright morning and the two ghostly figures became solid and real. Diggory looked down at himself and rotated his see-through hand. Well this was certainly something. He hadn't stumbled upon something like this in quite some time. He had forgotten how disconcerting it was to be a ghost in the past. He clenched his fist. He had to be careful. Too long away from what he was supposed to see and there was the risk that he would be trapped in the past. He didn't understand it - heck, he doubt anyone would - but he knew the rules. Well, most of them. A large number had been trial by error discoveries.

The girl by the lake, still looking pale, turned towards the figure that had passed through Diggory. Her face looked sickly but she smiled warmly to the new arrival. "I needed some air, Remy. I couldn't stand that stuffy room much longer."

Remy sighed, his hand careful around her arm. "Come on, I'm taking you back."

He moved to leave but she didn't budge and Diggory could see that the man was not about to force her. His touch told Diggory everything he needed. Remy saw Myra as fragile and wanted to do everything to protect her. Diggory frowned. There was possibly more to it as well as Myra covered his hand with hers, looking at him imploringly. "Please, Remy. Another few moments. Please."

Remy sighed, turning about. "Myra, we can't. The carriage is here."

Myra's expression closed off so quickly, Diggory could have sworn he had blinked. She dropped her hand and raised her head. "Very well."

She turned and Remy's grip slipped from her arm as she made her way away from the pond. Remy's open expression showed the regret and pain he was feeling and Diggory stepped after the girl. Remy quickly followed suit, urging, "I'm sorry, Myra. I hadn't...I just-"

"You are just doing as you were told," Myra soothed, offering him a small smile. "It's alright." She looked forward again and her expression returned to that hard, cold look that was closed off from the world. "Will you be joining me?"

Remy shook his head as he offered, "I don't know. It depends on what they permit for you to take with you."

"If I ask, will you go with me as a servant?" she asked, her words heavy.

Diggory's heart clenched at that. He knew what that meant for both of them.

"Absolutely," Remy spoke readily, straightening up. "I will lay my life down for you, Myra. You know that."

She gave him that small smile again but this one was sad. "I'd rather you live for me, Remy."

Remy deflated at that but Diggory understood her words. He felt the same way, even. So many devoted themselves to him, claiming they were willing to lay down their lives for him, but all he wanted was for them to live long, happy lives and none of them seemed to understand that.

They approached the house Hunter had stopped at and Diggory blinked at it, bewildered. He had thought it would have been a quaint house in its heyday and, while he wasn't wrong, he had certainly been off with what he had thought it would look like. He shook his head with a chuckle. Myra and Remy walked up the steps, both vehemently ignoring the carriage stationed outside the home. Diggory noted that it was a horseless carriage, one of the ones he had seen back in his home city. He noticed that neither Remy nor Myra seemed startled by it but he wasn't sure if that was out of having seen it before or just out of sheer strength of will to not react.

Diggory moved to hurry up the steps after them when something caught his eye. Workers were near what was most likely a barn but what they were wearing seemed odd. He wandered over, catching their conversation.

"Ain't got a care in world, but got plenty of beer," one of them chortled, holding up a stein. The other two similarly dressed raised their own mugs.

"Easiest pickup we've ever done, honestly," one of the others commented.

"Pity she has to leave all this," the third offered, morose.

The first hummed but the second tsked at the third. "Come on, man. She's being brought to Mortis to be a possible new bride. She should be grateful leaving this life style."

"Her's may not be as bad as yours," the third growled back. "She may not even want to go."

"Doesn't matter," the first cut in, halting the argument. "She has been summoned. She has no choice in the matter."
Diggory stepped away from the men and walked towards where he had seen Myra and Remy disappear. They were right. Those of lower status could not, by law, reject or ignore a summons by those of higher status. Though, it does limit that law to lords and royals. Diggory wondered who exactly had summoned this girl, though, and he got his answer as he stepped through the front door.

"I am ready to leave, Father," Myra spoke, dressed in something far more elegant than she had been in by the lake and yet it was just as simple. Her father turned to her, a heavy heart showing on his sleeve. They embraced and he spoke words Diggory did not hear. He also didn't try. His gaze was on the nobility standing in the room.

He knew Mortis's history, knew who had been ruling when it suddenly became a ghost town, and he was currently looking at him. Lord Loric Embras, a man that, as far as Diggory had known, to have been severe and unforgiving but the expression on Lord Embras's face spoke otherwise. Diggory suspected he was getting a glimpse of the man beneath the title in this moment.

Lord Embras looked to Remy who was also dressed in finer clothing. "You are her friend, yes?"

Remy bowed. "I am her loyal servant. I will stay with her till the day I die."

"Good." All eyes were on him in surprise. Lord Embras didn't react to their surprise. "She will need all the protection I can afford her and already having someone she can trust at her side makes my job that much easier."

"So you truly plan on wedding my daughter?" Myra's father asked, his arm still around his daughter. Next to the clearly battle worn man made Myra look even more sickly that she already looked.

"Yes," Lord Embras replied simply. He looked to Myra. "If you are willing in three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Myra asked, confused.

Lord Embras smiled gently and again Diggory caught sight of the man beneath the title. "I will not force you like the rumors like to cause everyone to presume. I would love to have you by my side but I am not about to force you into that position. Three weeks and I will ask you again. If you need more time, that is fine. But if you are still in my home after six months, I will take that as a definitive yes."

Myra nodded.

Lord Embras turned, gesturing towards the door. "Then let us depart. You are welcome to visit at any time, Sir."

Myra's father nodded, kissing his daughter cheek as Remy took her bag to the carriage. Lord Embras offered his arm to Myra when the girl separated herself from her father. She looked from the offered limb to Lord Embras's face and Diggory suddenly saw the young woman's age in her expression. Diggory relaxed. She was old enough to decide this on her own. His time limit was generous if she could handle the tasks placed before her as he knew there would be.

Diggory followed them out and into the carriage. Very little happened on their way to the heart of Mortis. There was small talk shared between Myra and Lord Embras. It seemed they were taking this proposal seriously seeing as the small talk was focused around the pair's likes and dislikes and perspectives on given topics. Diggory let his gaze drift out the window as they entered Mortis. He frowned.

Something was off.

Lord Embras seemed to notice as well because the chatter died and Remy was moved to Myra's other side as Lord Embras placed a hand on the pistol holstered on his hip. "Derek, Connor, stay alert," he spoke. Diggory glanced over, certain that no one else was in the space only to see a communication devise on Lord Embras's wrist that was normally obscured by his sleeve. Diggory wondered if Lord Embras would get a reply of sorts but, where he had or not, the man covered the devise and looked to Myra. "Stay in here until I say. My men will protect you to the best of their abilities."

Myra nodded as Remy put an arm around her shoulders. Lord Embras turned his gaze back outside.

They arrived with no issues but they were certainly not alone. A cloaked figure stood on the walkway to the main doors and Lord Embras's hand gripped the holstered gun.

"Stay close," he ordered and Myra nodded. Remy looked like he wanted to argue but no words came as the door opened and Lord Embras stepped out. He helped Myra down and Remy climbed out on his own. Tucking Myra's hand into the nook of his elbow, he led her forward. The figure stepped out of the way but followed behind Lord Embras, placing themself before Remy.

They entered the receiving room and Lord Embras sat Myra in one of the chairs before turning to the stranger, his gaze hard. This is where Lord Embras gained his reputation. "What do you want?"

"Have you made your decision, Lord Embras?" the cloaked figure asked.

"Tell your Master my decision has not changed," Lord Embras snarled. "He will never get his hands on any of them."

"If we can't have it all then nobody will," the figure warned. Diggory shuddered, getting the distinct feeling that the figure was grinning.

Lord Embras sneered. "I doubt you could do anything."

"I can't," the figure agreed. "But my Master can."

Diggory's vision was suddenly filled with a blinding light and he winced, taking a step back.
Diggory rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the spots out of his vision as quickly as he could. There was the sound of a commotion. Sight clearing, he heart twisted to see Remy on the ground with Lord Embras standing from his side. Lord Embras took off at a sprint and Diggory was right behind him.

Diggory had no idea what was going on, let alone what had happened. He couldn't even piece it together. Too much could have happened and he was left with chasing Lord Embras through the twists and turns of the castle.

They came out a side door, the stranger running with Myra on their shoulder unconscious. Lord Embras seemed to only speed up. Diggory fell behind.

The stranger's hood caught on a branch as they ducked into the forest. The fabric held and the stranger was jerked back. They lost their footing and fell to the ground. Lord Embras was upon them in seconds and gave a solid kick to the stranger's head before turning to Myra. He carefully picked her up, holding her close as he put some distance between them and the stranger. He knelt, resting her on the ground and cupped her face. "Myra," he spoke, his breath still coming short.

Her eyes slowly opened but exhaustion clearly wrote itself on her face. Diggory watched as Lord Embras became Loric, masks carefully placed breaking as he held her close. "Just hand in there, Myra. I'll get you back to the castle and-"

Her hand came up and cupped his cheek, stilling his words. She had a weak smile on her face as she offered soothingly, "It's alright. I was never of any real fit health to begin with."

Diggory swallowed past the lump in his throat, unable to turn his gaze away from this scene. Loric, however, didn't have such luck as tears slipped down his cheeks. "I can't let you die, Myra. I can't. You're the reason this city has done so well."

Myra's smile seemed to grow, though it only got sadder. "Loric." Loric's breath caught. "I am not her." A sob wrenched itself from Loric's chest and he curled around Myra even more. Myra wasn't done speaking. "I am simply a recreation of her, a vessel for the magic holding everyone here. You know you cannot hold onto this world much longer."

"But I can't lose you," he croaked out, pressing his face into her hair. "Not again. I can't lose you again."

Pain - whether emotional or physical, Diggory couldn't tell - crossed Myra's face as she gripped his hair, holding him close. "But you won't. She's waiting for you. She's always been waiting for you."

Loric pulled away but his head remained bowed. "I can't keep reliving this, can I?" he asked, voice soft.

Myra smiled gently. "No, you cannot."

The stranger shattered into glowing particles of blue, green, and purple. Diggory jumped, clasping a hand over his pounding heart from the startle. Loric and Myra didn't seem to be affected. Beyond the trees, Diggory could see a large amount of the same type of particles rising from the castle and the city beyond. It quickly dawned on Diggory what was going on and he stared at the pair still present. Loric looked at Myra's face again, running his fingers through her hair. "Will it hurt?"

She gave him an encouraging smile, though it was tired. "No. It'll be scary at first but you have people waiting for you on the other side. You'll be just fine."

Loric nodded as particles started to leave his skin. Diggory shuddered as the particles started to reveal an aged and frail body, one pushed beyond its limits. How long had Loric been trapped in this loop?!

Myra, though, remained whole. Her outfit and appearance, however, did dissipate in a cloud of particles to reveal a suit Diggory was all too familiar with and a face he was certain he knew but just couldn't place. As the last of the particles separated themselves from Loric, not-Myra sat up and carefully laid the body on the ground, gently encouraging, "Sleep, Loric, and wake in a place you have been denying yourself for so many years."

Loric's withered hand raised once more to cup not-Myra's cheek, his voice rasping out, "Thank you."

His hand hitting the ground broke reality and Diggory found himself back in his own time. Standing before him was Advena. Feeling so overwhelmed with thoughts and emotions, he was numb, he tried to ask, "Were you...." The rest of the question died on his tongue.

"No," Advena answered. "The one that was Myra here passed shortly after Loric went to rest. Their crystal burned out shortly there after."

Diggory tried to frown but he wasn't sure it transferred to his face. "Crystal?"

Advena did something at their chest to reveal a crystal of the same blue, green, and purple of the particles that Diggory had seen. He stared at it, bewildered. "What is it?" he asked without a thought.

"My life source, in a sense," Advena offered, covering the crystal again. "The one with Lord Loric Embras was what the stranger had been after."

Diggory's eyes became the size of saucers. "When the stranger was talking about having it all, he was talking about your crystals?" His gaze shifted to where he had seen the object. "They're shards of something whole?"

Advena nodded. "Each is uniquely shaped. No crystal is shaped the same and they all fit together to create a whole structure of some sort."

Diggory shook his head. "I don't understand. Why this? Why now? And why tell me all this? Why not keep yourself hidden?"

"I do keep myself hidden," Advena offered, shrugging. "You cannot recall my face." Diggory found that he truly could not recall Advena's face and he was staring at it. "And because I had my heart set on you."

Diggory's thoughts came to a stuttering halt. "Come again?" he squeaked.
Advena offered a small smile, though Diggory thought it was rather emotionless. "I had my heart set on you, or so I was told when I was sent to serve you. I do not know what that had meant but I do know that I find it difficult to refuse you any information." Advena gestured to the area around them. "After all, you triggered the memory of the crystal still here."

Diggory tensed. "You mean I haven't been traveling through time but have been caught up in a sentient crystal?!"

Advena blinked at him. "Is that not what I said?"

Diggory ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. While not being trapped in the past was relieving, being trapped in a crystal seemed even worse. He drew in a shaky breath. "Ok, ok. I can get this. I can understand this." He looked to Advena, his gaze wild. "I need you to tell me everything about you and what you are as well as the purpose of the others and all your puzzle piece crystals."

Advena's normally not overly expressive expression closed off even more. "I don't think-"

"Please!" Diggory begged. "Please help me understand!"

Advena gave in with a simple, "If it makes you happy."

"It'll certainly help," Diggory assured them.

Advena looked towards where the others were supposed to be. "Find the crystal here and I will tell you on the way back. We have been away long enough and we need to be getting back. I also do not want to repeat myself a second time."

Diggory frowned. "Do you think it's safe telling them this as well?"

Advena shrugged. "Roderick is not leaving and while Hunter may move on, he will be a great support." They gave Diggory a look. "That and I think that Hunter has become rather fond of you as well and will do what he can to help."

"Help with what?!" Diggory squawked.

Advena gestured where Diggory had watched Loric die. "Help with collecting the missing crystals before the Other gathers them all and uses the construct for something far worse than you could ever imagine."

Diggory looked at the soil before him. He couldn't make heads nor tails of any of this but he could feel it in him the urge to dig, to hold the crystal he knew was there close to his chest and keep it safe. He started digging without a second thought.

He hadn't dug very deep when he came across the crystal. Sure enough, it looked strikingly different from Advena's. Where Advena's had looked like a shard that was close to five inches long and sharp at either end, this one looked jagged and roughly broken, a fractured piece of a river smoothed stone. It also only looked like a simple quarts. Diggory's hand closed around the small object that was able to fit in his fist with ease. A blinding light illuminated from between Diggory's fingers and Diggory blinked a second set of spots from his vision. He opened his palm to see the crystal was glowing again with the same colors as Advena's. Diggory looked up at Advena in worry.

What in the world was going on here?
Diggory clambered to his feet without Advena's help. In fact, Advena made no attempt to get closer even as Diggory stumbled. When Diggory stood at their side, he took note that Advena shifted farther away from the hand holding the crystal. He frowned.

"Advena-"

"When we regroup," Advena spoke, cutting off his question and starting towards where the others had been. Diggory had no choice but to fall into step behind the other.

Their walk was quiet, silent even. Diggory had yet to release the crystal in his hand into a bag or even a pocket. When they reached the others, he hid it as best he could but Hunter's gaze was keener than he had anticipated.

"What did you find?" the man asked, approaching. Roderick stepped closer as well, curious though it was clear that he hadn't seen what Hunter had.

Diggory's hand clenched tighter around the crystal and Hunter arched an eyebrow at the gesture. "I, uh..."

"He found a crystal," Advena offered.

Hunter arched an eyebrow while Roderick frowned, his confusion showing on his face. Diggory studied Hunter's expression, not sure if that look meant that Hunter knew more than he was letting on.

"One of your type of crystals?" Hunter asked.

Advena nodded while Diggory spluttered. "How do you know about those?" Diggory squeaked, his fist going to his chest as if he could protect the crystal best there.

Hunter gestured towards Advena. "I've seen their kind before, interacted with them, even. Odd bunch but once you've been keyed into the know how, they're actually rather easy to spot."

Diggory looked to Advena, floundering. They shrugged. "He isn't wrong. While many overlook us, if you know what to look for, you can find us rather easily."

"Doesn't that make this trip all that much harder?" Diggory asked, glancing between the two of them.

"Trip?" Hunter clarified, looking to Advena.

"He's going to collect the crystals," Advena supplied. "He's keyed into them."

Hunter nodded as Diggory shook his head. "That does't answer my question."

Advena shrugged. "Yes and no. We can un-key people, in a sense, but the challenge was already there. You were just now made aware of it is all."

Diggory gave them a flat look. Hunter stepped forward, clasping Diggory's shoulder. "Moot point. Your need is driven on, regardless of how apprehensive you are about it. Your clinging to that thing as if I may take it and break it."

Diggory looked to Hunter surprised and yet touched. Diggory relaxed, and showed Hunter the crystal fighting the impulse to hide it with all his might. It took everything he had not to smack Roderick's hand and run off with the crystal when the beggar plucked the crystal from his palm. "I've seen these."

"Not surprised," Advena spoke. "You would have seen them in the war."

Roderick hummed, relaxing as he was let into the conversation. "Aw, I remember now. Your kind were sent in to try and mitigate the other forces with all your weird supernatural abilities."

"Not supernatural," Advena patiently corrected. "Technology. Weapons that behave as if made of magic when it is only science and bodies that have been enhanced in a similar fashion."

Diggory frowned at that. "Does that mean you're part machine?"

Advena tipped their head to the side. "I do not know. All I know is bits of information with no context. This is one of those subjects."

"So what are you exactly?" Hunter inquired. "Do you know?"

Advena shook their head. "My recollection of events I have participated in begins with my service with Diggory shortly before his breakout of the castle."

Hunter turned a disapproving look onto the prince. "You want to tell me why you trusted a stranger for this long?"

Diggory threw up his hands, the crystal still clutched to his palm. "Oi! I trust my aunt's judgment! She would not have sent me off with someone I couldn't trust."

Both Hunter and Roderick frowned at that but Roderick was the one to voice the question they shared. "You're aunt? No parents?"

Diggory shook his head, hands and gaze dropping. "My mom died shortly after my sister was born. My dad died in the war a number of months before that. His death is what caused the end of the war. My uncle, my dad's brother, saw to that. My aunt, the one that gave Advena to me, is my dad and uncle's sister. My mom's side, sadly, is the one with the tyrannic family currently ruling over these lands."

"But you told me not overly long ago that Advena had come to you after you had been in some trouble," Roderick countered.

Diggory nodded. "And that isn't a lie. But Advena had also carried a sealed letter and I would stake my life on the letter's authenticity."
"There's no need for that," Hunter spoke up, soothing whatever mess was about to start. "If you trust Advena, that's enough for me." Hunter looked to Advena. "I've only met a few of yours but each one has been trustworthy and have saved my hide numerous times. It's about time I repay the favor."

Advena tipped their head a bit. "You have nothing to repay and if you do, it should not go to me."

Diggory chuckled, recognizing Advena's expression for what it was even if he wouldn't be able to pin down their face. "It's not monetary. It's reciprocating an action felt to have been something done beyond what was expected to a point where the other feels as if they owe the one that did the action. Generally, it's the simple offering to give directions because another had offered up directions in a different town in a seemingly bad situation. Sometimes the acts are larger than that, sometimes much smaller. And the one returning the favor does what they see fits the action bestowed upon them. If someone were to save another's life, the one saved may see that the only thanks to be given is by word alone. Another could possibly see it as a life debt until they have either lived out their service or have returned the favor in the act of saving their savior's life."

"So paying it forward?" Advena clarified.

Diggory blinked while Roderick exclaimed, "You understand that but not repaying a favor?!"

Hunter patted Roderick's shoulder, focusing on Advena. "In this case, yes. Several of yours risked their lives to help me on two separate occasions. It is only fair that I aid you guys as best I can in your quest to gather all the crystals that need to be found." Hunter glanced at Diggory. "Am I mistaken to say that you are looking for those that no longer have power in them first?"

Advena nodded. "Those will be the ones at most risk. Those that still have power still - hopefully - have bodies to power." Advena shook their head. "I only wish I knew more than I do."

Diggory touched Advena's shoulder, offering an encouraging smile. "Even if you don't recall anything more as time goes on, what you already know is a great help regardless of its limits."

"So what's the plan?" Roderick asked.

"Fight fire with fire?" Hunter tried. Diggory looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "What? Don't tell me you haven't anticipated running into trouble. The Other is still hunting crystals and has been for years, from what I gather, and has a massive head start on you."

Diggory deflated. Advena touched his arm, gaining his attention. "Even if the Other has a number of crystals, there should still be plenty for us to gather and keep out of reach." Advena looked to Hunter. "Can we entrust you to house a few?"

Hunter grinned. "I can do even better than that. I know a guy in Sunnik that can whip together something to help you store those things on your travel. He's a bit of a whacked fellow but he's good for things to hide things you don't want found."

"I hope it's not something that'll be overly heavy and bulky," Diggory voiced, grinning sheepishly when Hunter looked at him. "I don't think we'll always have the luxury of a cart."

Hunter grinned at him. "Trust me, what you'll get from this guy will be the best thing that has ever happened to you."

The conversation over, Hunter gestured for Roderick to follow him to tend to something while Advena kept their distance from Diggory.

"Did that clear everything up?" Advena inquired.

"No," Diggory confessed. "In fact, it only created more questions." He sighed. "But it doesn't matter. The most of it will clear itself out as time wears on." He looked to Advena. "Sunnik is a rather tech heavy city, right?"

Advena nodded. "You will feel quite at home there, if only on a technological familiarity level."

Diggory looked to where the two men had gone off to, watching as they settled around the fire chatting. "Will whatever Hunter's guy gives us actually work? Will it stay lightweight for us?"

"I've heard rumors of people able to create pocket dimensions," Advena assured. "If Hunter's person is truly one of these persons, then what we are given will truly remain light."

Diggory nodded. "I hope so."
Night gave way to day and Diggory woke to Advena and Hunter talking softly near the cart. Roderick was still snoring at his back. Moving as quietly as he could, Diggory got up and snuck away. While he was sure Advena would have noticed, he hoped Hunter wouldn't.

He slipped to the pond that he had first seen the start of the memory and carefully approached its edge. The water was still but he could not see the bottom. The water was murky, clear only in the most shallow of parts. Still, Diggory slipped off his shoes and rolled up his pants before stepping into the water.

He hissed as the icy water. "I don't understand why you're so cold," he growled at the water lapping at his feet.

"Probably because it is simply cold."

Diggory jumped, turning around as quickly as the icy water permitted. Water splashed up in the motion, sloshing against his legs and dampening the ends of both pant legs. Advena stood not far from the edge of the water, an eyebrow raised. Diggory took that as a sign of amusement. "Hunter come with?" Diggory asked innocently.

Advena shook their head. "He stayed with Roderick to start making breakfast. He wanted me to warn you not to dilly dally or they'll end up eating your portion."

Diggory nodded. "Seems fair." He shifted his stance in the water. "And yourself?"

"I came to make sure you didn't get yourself lost. Or hurt."

Diggory turned towards the center of the pond. "Cool."

With pants already wet from earlier, he went farther into the pond than he had initially intended and found that the floor of the pond fell away from the surface much faster than he had anticipated. Within three steps, the icy water was at his crotch. "Sounds good."

He took another tentative step forward and couldn't help the gasp that escaped him.

"What are you doing?" Advena inquired. Diggory was certain he heard derision in those words.

"I am working off a hunch."

"A hunch?" Advena took a step forward. "On what?"

He smiled back at her. "Care to join me?"

Advena blinked at him before shrugging off their cloak. The blue light from the suit's tech veins illuminated the area slightly before Advena turned the illumination down till the strips were faintly glowing. They stepped into the water, the suit repelling the water with such ease that it made Diggory jealous.

Advena patted his head. "You were in the middle of following a hunch?"

"Aw, right!" Diggory moved to go to the center only to find that there was no ground to step on. Advena grabbed the back of his shirt before he could go under. He grinned back at them. "Thanks. But we will most likely have to swim now."

Advena have him a look and released his shirt. He went under with a splash. Diggory came back up quickly, coughing and laughing. "Coming?" he asked, lazily swimming to the center.

Advena kicked off the ground she had been standing on, pushing themself forward with only a ripple in the surface of the water. Diggory shook his head. "I still don't know how you do that."

Rolling over, he dived under the surface. He couldn't see anything with how murky the water was but he didn't really need to. He made his way down, Advena appearing close enough to be seen. They grabbed his hands and placed them on their shoulders. Diggory nodded and Advena turned their back to him. Diggory held onto Advena's shoulders and kicked along as Advena provided the majority of the propulsion.

Diggory blinked when the murky suddenly became clear and Diggory looked behind them to see the layer of silt and whatnot. Ahead of them in the clear water was a tunnel that led down before curving. Advena used the walls to propel them farther faster.

By the time Diggory was fighting to keep his breath, Advena broke the surface of an underground lake and Diggory was right behind them, gasping for breath. He coughed a few times as he looked around, Advena increasing her suit's luminosity. The room took that light and amplified it.

Around them thousands of glow crystals came to life, taking that small amount of light and passing it on. The entire cavern was bathed in the blue light, showing the size and the tunnels that branched off.

"Some hunch," Advena spoke.

Diggory completely agreed with her. "I had just been under the hunch that Myra may have hid something in the pond or even Lorik. I never expected to find that it led to an underground lake and a possible network of caves."

Advena frowned, swimming over to the edge of the lake and pulling themself out of the water.

"Advena?" Diggory called after them, confused. He followed nonetheless and pulled himself out just as Advena stopped before a pillar. He walked over, uneasy. "Advena, what it is?"

There, on the column of stone, were carvings that Diggory did not recognize beyond that it was a lot of writing in one area.
Advena reached out, covering part of the strange text. "Forgive me father, I have sinned."

"Advena?" Diggory tried again, reaching out. His hand hovered over their shoulder, not quite sure if he should touch them or not.

Advena shook their head. "I'm fine, Diggory. It was the first line of text I had read."

"You understand this?" Diggory clarified.

Advena nodded. "Not sure if I could speak it but I can at speak it in English, translate it orally for ya."

Diggory gave in to the need to physically comfort his companion and let his hand fall onto their shoulder. "Only if you are comfortable with it."

Advena looked to Diggory. "I am not uncomfortable. Quite the contrary. I am rather curious on why this was here."

"As am I." Diggory's gaze wandered off. "How about you read it and give me a summary when you're done with all the translating and I'll go see if there is anything else here to see."

Advena nodded, their gaze returning to the pillar before them.

Diggory made his way through the cavern, going from pillar to pillar, wall to wall, taking in the crystals and any markings that were engraved into the stone.

There was quite the amount carved into the stone.

By the time Advena was done reading three sections, Diggory had wandered as far as he dared down two tunnels. He came to Advena's side when he saw that they had moved onto their fourth section. "Anything?"

Advena shook their head. "Nothing that makes sense, at least. It's like a part of a story and I can't seem to tell which order these sections go together." Advena looked around. "There is still quite the amount of text left and we really should be returning."

Diggory couldn't help but agree. "We'll have to return when we have more time." He looked to the lake. "Think we'll have to swim again?"

"Most likely," Advena spoke. They looked to him. "Are you ok with that?"

Diggory shrugged. "It'll be easier going back up than it was coming down. That and I'm starving. I'm all for taking the shortest route."

Advena nodded and returned to the lake, diving in from the edge. Diggory, for his part, sat down on the rim of the lake before slipping into the water. His feet brushed the bottom as he bobbed briefly. Advena swam up to his side and Diggory reached over, grabbing hold of Advena's shoulders and following Advena beneath the surface of the lake. The trip back was much faster and, when they returned, they were greeted by both Roderick and Hunter standing at the edge of the lake. Hunter sighed in relief as Roderick splashed his way a few feet into the icy pond.

"Are you two alright?" he asked, reaching out to offer Diggory and Advena a hand once they were close enough. "It's been nearly two hours since we saw you last."

"Yeah, we just got distracted," Diggory explained, shivering in the brisk morning air. Advena draped their cloak over his shoulders, seemingly unaffected by the combination of freezing water and open air. But, then, Advena's suit did repel water and the only thing dripping wet was their hair. "There's an underground lake that can be reached through this pond that I, uh, stumbled upon when I had been following a hunch."

"A hunch led you into a pond?" Hunter clarified, disbelief dripping from his words.

"It happens," Advena commented, leading the way back towards camp. Hunter wrapped an arm around Diggory's shoulders and let the other on. Roderick took up position on Diggory's other side.

"We found all sorts of carvings in the cavern walls," Diggory explained. "Advena could read them without issue but I didn't even recognize the characters used."

"Do you know what language it, Advena?" Roderick asked.

Advena shook their head. "I don't know the name. It reads like English to me."

"Does it have some sort of connection to what you are?" Hunter suggested.

Advena looked back at him. "It's possible."

Hunter sat Diggory down in front of the fire and ladled a stew still hot over the fire into two bowls. He passed the first one to Diggory who took it happily and simply huddled around it for its warmth for a moment. Hunter offered the second bowl to Advena but Advena shook their head, declining. Hunter frowned. "Your counterparts ate and they did so in front of me," he countered. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," Advena assured him.

Hunter wasn't taking it. "Eat this. Whether you are or not, this is needed and you know it."

Advena gave in and took the bowl, spooning the food into their mouth at regular intervals. Diggory watched in awe before shaking himself and eating his own stew.
The meal went uninterrupted and the final pieces were tucked back into the cart. Diggory walked his horse about in a small circle as Advena mounted theirs. Roderick climbed up on the driver’s bench of the cart as Hunter double checked the horse’s harness. Diggory looked to the man, stopping his own horse and prepping to step up into the saddle.

“We good?” he asked, both hands on his saddle.

Hunter nodded, stepping away from the horse. “Yeah.”

The cart touched the road first, followed by Diggory’s horse with Advena’s keeping right along. Roderick and Hunter held a light conversation between themselves as they trekked towards a city that held no life and supposedly hadn’t held true life for years.

The city slowly rose around them as the minutes turned to hours. By the time they reached the heart of the city, it was already midday. Diggory pulled on his reins, bringing his horse to a stop in the middle of what had once been a major intersection of the city. Even with the overgrowth and the forest having started its reclaiming of the city, it was a wonder that so much was still recognizable.

The hairs on the back of Diggory’s neck stood up and he urged his horse to 180. Even with looking down the way they had come did not ease the sudden wariness Diggory had of the place.

“Diggory?” Advena asked, having ridden back to check on him.

“Something’s wrong, Advena,” Diggory uttered. “There’s something stalking us.”

There was movement from their right but even as they turned to react, whatever had moved was suddenly upon them. Diggory was knocked off his horse even as he pulled his knight and gun. The gun was in the middle of charging when he hit the ground and it skidded out of reach. He had been able to keep a hold of the knife as he rolled, putting some distance between his assailant and himself only to collide with another body.

He whipped around, the blade of his knife flickering in the midday sun. The second body dodged but the first was behind him as his foot settled on the ground and he was in the process of redirecting his weight. Something hit him in the back the head and he knew no more.

Awareness came in two forms, the first being dreams and the second being consciousness. The dreams that filled his mind near the end of his time unconscious were not so much dreams as they were bursts of colors and sounds, shapes that had no real form and motion that had no real depth. By the time he groggily awoke, his head was already spinning from the strange dreams he had that held no form beyond chaos.

Finding himself bound on the floor of an unfamiliar room should have banished the grogginess still lingering but it didn’t.

The room was well lit yet scarce of anything that would help dictate what the space was used for. Figures stood about the room but Diggory had a hard time focusing on them. The only ones that came into clarity were his companions all tussled up beside him on the hard floor.

“It would seem our paths finally cross, young Prince,” someone spoke, their voice full of amusement and annoyance. Diggory was rather impressed. One of the figures knelt before him though kept far enough away that their face was blurry enough he would not be able to recognize it once his head cleared. “Tell me, how is the drug treating you? Head still foggy? Still feeling tired?”

Diggory frowned. Drug? He didn’t remember anything pertaining to some foreign substance being forced into his system. But, then, he had been unconscious for a period of time.

The figure grinned. Fear pulsed through Diggory as he took stock of it even in the haze of his brain. He did not care for that grin. Not at all. “Would seem that you’re still in both of those,” the figure commented, sounding pleased. Diggory struggled against his bonds.

The figure before him laughed.

“There is no getting out of those,” the figure chimed, the promise causing Diggory to freeze. The figure came closer but all the exertion was causing his vision to go dark. He wasn’t about to pass out but he was sure on his way to it. The figure got close and grabbed his chin but the black spots had yet to dissipate and, as the figure came into focus, their face remained obscure. “You are too much of a hassle if we let you out.” The figure’s voice dropped low, as if they were speaking privately to Diggory in a crowded room. “Tell me what you want, what you really, really want, young Prince. What desires does your heart hold?”

“Probably nothing that interests you,” Diggory offered with a shrug.

The figure laughed again, dropping him and moving back, not seeming to care as Diggory’s chin clipped the floor. “Try me.”
Pain radiated through his jaw. It only made his head swim even more. Whatever they had put in his system was making it hard to think before he acted and the words fell past his lips. "I want peace and prosperity for all. I want to see the world whole again." He shifted, glaring up at the figure. "I want the world to be rid of people like you."

He flinched from his own words. He didn't want anyone to die but he did want the world free of maniacs like the figure before him. No sane person went about attacking and kidnapping other people.

The figure's words were slowly registering and Diggory couldn't help he should know who this person was.

"I want it that way too!" the figure pressed almost breathlessly. They settled before Diggory again, capturing his face between their hands and bringing his gaze to the face once again obscured. Diggory winced. The movement made his head pulse painfully. "I want to free the world of pain and suffering, of hate and distrust. But I can't make this world perfect without the crystals. I need the crystals to rid the world of evil."

Diggory's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "The Other."

The figure grinned again and a shudder rushed down Diggory's spine. The figure released his head but Diggory was prepared this time. The figure stood up, making a sweeping gesture. "And now he clues in."

There was a splattering of chuckles and Diggory whipped his head about. He was unable to make out anything and the motion only caused him more pain. Diggory focused back on the Other, unable to hide his fear. The Other's grin only grew. "What do you want?" Diggory found himself inquiring. It came out far weaker than he had intended.

The Other leaned in close, cupping a hand to the side of their mouth as if they were sharing a deep, dark secret. The grin was still there. "I want your crystal."

There was a thoughtless twitch against his bonds in an attempt to curl around the crystal in his pocket. The Other's laughter rang sharp in his ears and, for a moment, bewilderment replaced the fear. Somehow, the Other's grin grew. "Wrong crystal."

There, in the back of his mind, he got an inkling of what the Other was insinuating but it was lost in the rapid firing of thoughts as he tried to figure out what other crystal this figure was alluding to. "I don't...."

The Other gave a huff of a laugh, standing up. "Come now. You're not that slow, Diggory," the Other encouraged, speaking his name in a condescending tone.

That little idea in the back of his mind suddenly filled his thoughts and his brain stopped working. He would have known, though. There was no way that he would have been without having known. Right?

The Other laughing drew him from his stuttering thoughts. "You have no idea how satisfying it is to break one of your kinds' reality, Diggory. It is such a satisfying feeling."

"Break my..." Diggory felt sick. No! He was human! He wasn't whatever Advena was! He had grown up, had memories of being with his family as a child. There was no way-

"To be honest," the Other spoke, their words drifting into Diggory's clashing thoughts, "you would have most likely slipped through my fingers. I never imagined that he would have made any quite so...human. But, then, that man was always so trusting. He should have known better."

Diggory tried to focus on the Other but all of this was taking its toll and he was having a hard time staying awake.

The Other turned to him, a smirk on their face. "But it would seem that he did. And it would seem he made you with every weakness as a human. Pathetic really." The Other reached out, caressing Diggory's face. "Don't worry, Diggory. I'll figure out where your crystal is housed and I will take it, even if I have to use force to do so. Till then, you will be treated with the utmost care."

Diggory succumbed to the darkness that was attempting to swallow his vision regardless if he was willing. The Other's laughter cut through the darkness enough that Diggory shuddered. He didn't want to be vulnerable in such a situation but it wasn't like he had much choice in the matter.
He woke to hands shaking him awake, dragging him upright and sideways.

"Move," a voice commanded in his ear. Diggory forced his legs to move in some semblance of a run. Whoever had a hold on him led him not so gently about.

"Diggory!" an oh so familiar voice called and he turned, reaching out towards Advena as they collided with his side. They pulled his arm around their shoulders and took a surprising amount of his weight. Advena looked to the one that had grabbed Diggory. "Lead."

The stranger nodded and slipped away from Diggory to take the lead. A turn this way, a turn that way, and at some point between where he had been kept and whatever their destination was they were joined by a much larger group that had Hunter and Roderick with it. The pair took up either side of the duo and the four were surrounded by these strangers that were helping them escape.

Even though his legs moved for him, Diggory found himself coming out of a haze as the cold night air slapped him in the face, biting any exposed skin. Somewhere along the way, some of the group surrounding them had vanished and a good number that remained were injured. Even his companions sported some sort of injury but Diggory could not recall when they had been attacked. Still, they all kept moving and, by the time they stopped, Diggory was about ready to pass out again.

"Please tell me we do not have to run again," Diggory nearly begged. "I don't think I can get my legs to work again."

Advena helped him sit on the ground. The person that had shaken him awake looked over at him. "We may have to so you're just going to have to move when we tell you to."

"Skit," a buff dude warned.

The newly dubbed Skit sighed, waving the man's warning off. "Alright, fine. Someone will help you. though, it ought to be a moot point. Where's transport at?"

"Two minutes out," some rough looking dude called out. Dude looked like he could rip Diggory to shreds with his bare hands and not even regret the action. "We've got hostile company closing in fast from the south. We'd best get moving boss."

"Any chance transport will reach us first?"

"Only if ya want us dead, boss," the man replied, sounding almost sorry.

Skit sighed again. "Fine. Tork, get Mr. Noodlelegs over there and keep up."

The group was starting to get to its feet as the buff dude walked over. He dipped his head, explaining quickly, "I'm going to be carrying you. Sorry."

Diggory didn't even get the chance to say anything on the matter. He was up in the man's arms in the blink of an eye and his made the blood rush to his head. Diggory leaned into the well built torso, willing himself to stay awake this time. He caught sight of Advena keeping pace and realized that the buff dude could really move even when burdened as such. It was rather intimidating.

"One minute to pick up!" came the call from the rough dude.

It looked like they were going to make it without confrontation till the first shot hit a tree. The group scattered, hiding behind trees and rocks to fire back. Advena kept with buff dude and Diggory, taking Diggory from buff dude so that the man could return fire. Diggory's legs wouldn't hold him.

"Thirty seconds!"

There was a ton of noise but Diggory hoped they would be safe enough. A twig snapped to their left before a blade flashed as it slammed into buff dude's shoulder. The man dropped his gun, falling to a knee in order to place his body between Advena and Diggory.

Another knife was thrown but Advena was already moving out from behind buff dude, drawing Diggory's knife with the motion. The thrown knife was deflected as Advena charged and rammed into the assailant. There was a brief commotion and then Advena was back, pulling Diggory to his feet. There was a sudden whirring sound and the air rushed violently around them. Diggory covered his face.

Buff dude picked him up in one arm and Diggory actually hung on this time. In the center of all the wind sat a craft Diggory had never seen. Skit was at the door, waving them in. "Hurry up!" they called over the noise.

Buff dude ducked in and Advena followed. Diggory was placed next to Roderick, Hunter nowhere to be seen. Advena sat on Diggory's other side and Diggory asked, "Where's Hunter?"

"Here," the man called, walking over with his hands full of supplied. "Roderick's wound needs some form of treatment now."

Advena got up, sliding down beside Hunter at Roderick's feet. Diggory finally noticed how pale Roderick looked. "I'll help," Advena offered.

Skit plopped down in Advena's seat with a groan as Diggory felt his stomach drop out below him. His gaze snapped to the window on Skit's other side, watching as the ground disappeared.

"We'll be able to make out the home craft in a few seconds," Skit offered. He knew she was watching him but he didn't care. He was eager.

His jaw hit the floor. There, in the middle of the sky, was this massive ship, multiple times larger than the castle he had lived in. Skit grinned at him, offering, "Welcome to our larger than life home."
Their ride touched down in what could only be described as an enormous hangar. He wouldn't be surprised if that wasn't what it was called. Still, there were a large number of crafts parked in the space, some docked even at higher levels. He looked to Skit, asking, "Just how many people are on this thing? What is it?"

Skit shrugged. "It's home," she offered, "and it's home to a lot of people. I don't know the exact number."

"Several thousands, at least," Tork commented, moving to the exit as the craft settled into its designated spot. Rough dude was right behind him.

Diggory looked to the others. Roderick looked like he was in too much pain to care but Hunter had shock written into the surprise in his face. Advena was expressionless as always, though her expression did seem mildly curious this go around. Skit stood up, gesturing to the four of them. "Come on. There's bound to be a welcoming committee."

"There is, boss, and ya ain't gonna like who it is," rough dude informed her, looking out the window.

Skit pushed him not so gently out of the way and looked out the window herself. She cussed colorfully. "Of course it would be them." She looked to Diggory and his companions. "Stay close and keep your traps shut. These are people you are going to want to be careful around."

"What do you mean?" Hunter asked.

Skit grinned but it was sharp. "Not everything up here is sunshine and rainbows." The door hissed unlock. "We have our own corruption and disorder to deal with."

She stepped out first, followed by Tork and rough dude. She threw her arms wide, cheerfully exclaiming, "Meric! What such honor! You are my sweetest downfall."

Diggory felt like gagging her words were so sickly sweet. It seemed the others of the greeting committee agreed if their souring expressions was anything to go by. Well, all but one, the one Skit was approaching. The man gave a tired smile. "Skittle. It certainly has been some time."

Skit made a face. "I really hate that name, you know. I much prefer Skit."

The man shrugged. "I really dislike Meric so we are currently at a standstill."

Skit put her hands on her hips. "Call me Skit and I'll call you Mercury."

The man sighed. "I cannot, Skittle. You know this."

Skit shrugged. "Fair enough, Meric. Where am I taking the land lubbers?"

"You are not taking them anywhere, you wild heathen," one of the other greeting committee snarled. Skit gave them a flat look as Meric raised a hand for them to silence.

"Would love to see you try and take them from my team, Councilor," Skit drawled. Tork and rough guy stepped up to either of Skit's shoulders. The rest of her team situated themselves around Diggory and his companions and Diggory felt gratitude towards them. He honestly wanted to deal with familiar strangers, not be handed off to a new group.

The greeting committee took a collective step forward, all moving to counter her words. Meric was the only one not to move. "Settle down," he spoke, his words rather soft all things considering. "Skittle has the authorization to escort them no matter your personal opinion on her." He shot a withering glare at the councilor that had spoken first, cluing Diggory in that the man actually liked Skit, regardless of their verbal battle. Meric looked to Skit. "I will arrange for their stay to be in your district, Skittle. They will be expected in that given med bay within thirty minutes. Enough time to get there with minor sight seeing."

Skit nodded. "Sounds good." She looked back and met Diggory's gaze. "Let's get moving, then."

The entire group moved out. They made their way through the area but Skit nor any of her team offered any explanations to what Diggory and his were seeing. By the time they made it to what Diggory presumed to be the med bay, he was rather convinced they were in some sort of space ship. The tech seemed far to advanced for anything simpler. But his mind was reeling. He didn't know any country that had technology this sophisticated. But, then, he hadn't known he was the same thing as Advena and he certainly hadn't known his country was in the state that it truly was. Any information that would have been given to him was possibly inaccurate and the only country not among the stars was his.
"Welcome to med bay," Skit spoke, gesturing wide. "Here is where you will find medical support of all kinds and then some. It is the place all must go to eventually but avoid as if the plague."

"A tad ironic, really," a female spoke, approaching. Whatever she was, she wasn't human and Diggory gaped. She appeared feline yet she was clearly a biped that was closer to human than to the feline DNA. Orange fur was stripped in brown, a white patch isolating the chin, throat, and, what he could only assume due to her uniform, chest. Her uniform covered her from neck to toe. The only things not covered by fabric was her striped tail and head. "I am Dr. Neuric, one of the doctors here in Med Bay 5. I will be joined by Dr. Jensen shortly to help give each of you your first examination." Dr. Neuric looked to Skit. "Will any of your team be staying?"

Skit nodded. "All of us. I want to make sure what injuries we did sustain are tended."

Dr. Neuric nodded. She gestured to the left into what seemed to be an open space with beds placed in neat order, utilizing the space to the fullest while still allowing a numerous amount of maneuvering space. Skit turned to her team and gestured them about. Tork and the rough dude stayed. Skit turned to Diggory and the others as Dr. Neuric greeted a blue feathered man that looked as if he didn't have all his ducks in a line, the decorative yellow, green, and blue feathers on the top of his head looking in disarray.

"I trust both doctors with my life," she informed them. "Do not be afraid to rely on either Dr. Neuric or Dr. Jensen."

"Will you be close by?" Hunter asked. He glanced around. "No offence to your whole place here but I don't trust strangers as far as I can throw them."

Skit smirked. "Wouldn't have expected anything less. My team and I - well, me and these two gents will wait till your examinations are done. They're harmless. A poke here and there, possibly an injection or two, but that's generally it."

Hunter nodded, seemingly satisfied with that. Diggory certainly was. But as soon as Skit and her two men stepped away, Diggory had his doubts as the two doctors came in and urged them towards private rooms. Diggory and Advena were put in one room while Hunter and Roderick were put into another. Dr. Jensen went with the two men while Dr. Neuric joined Diggory and Advena. An aid came in just as Dr. Neuric was closing the door but she didn't have the aid leave. Instead, the aid stayed inside the room, sitting in a corner before they were needed, apparently.

"Why are we doubled up?" Advena asked.

Dr. Neuric gave them a kind smile. "Because we figured that you would be more comfortable with another you trust in the room. And we figured it was best to keep those alike together."

Diggory frowned at that. "Those alike?"

Dr. Neuric blinked at him. "Are you two not of the same species?"

"We don't know," Advena spoke first. "I don't know what I am specifically and, up until just now, I was certain he was a human."

"The Other spoke of how I was like you, Advena," Diggory confessed, glancing at them. "He wanted to take my crystal. Not the one in my pocket but the one like yours."

Advena frowned at him. "You are not like me." They looked to Dr. Neuric. "Is he?"

Dr. Neuric blinked at them. "You two smell alike but I do not know if that is simply because you two have been close or if you two are of the same species. The other two men smell human, if that helps."

"I don't smell human, then?" Diggory clarified, sounding resigned to the answer.

Dr. Neuric shook her head. "No, you don't." She seemed to hesitate before adding, "I am sorry that you had believed you were human. This must be difficult for you."

Diggory shrugged, trying to brush it off but his smile was tight and his shoulders had yet to relax. "If there is a higher place to be, I'd probably have broken my neck when the rug was yanked out from under me. Sadly this isn't the first reality shattering experience I've had in less than a week."

Dr. Neuric nodded and moved on. "I am going to perform the standard check up every person coming aboard must go through. It will tell me if you are carrying any diseases or have injuries you are unaware of as well as anything you may need to be vaccinated for. We will also do a history scan. It is incomplete but it gives us something of your history at least."

Both Advena and Diggory nodded.
The process went smoothly enough. It seemed that Dr. Neuric was rather knowledgeable in dealing with whatever they were. She had no trouble checking Advena over thoroughly, including checking their crystal.

"Do you happen to know what I am?" Advena asked when Dr. Neuric expertly uncovered Advena's crystal to Advena's surprise.

Dr. Neuric gave an apologetic smile. "I sadly don't, my dear, but there are quite a number of your kind on this ship for me to know how to tend to you. If the others know what they are, they never speak of it. They keep to themselves mostly and many attempt to remain anonymous even though we have such the variety of sentient beings on this craft."

Advena seemed resign to that information, simply nodding and falling quiet again. But when Dr. Neuric turned to Diggory, she seemed to be hesitating more in what she was doing. Diggory glanced at Advena, suddenly concerned. "Dr. Neuric?" Diggory tried.

"I can understand now why you believed you were human for so long," Dr. Neuric spoke. "You are remarkably human to the point where I'm now questioning if the similar scent was just transferred scent."

Diggory blinked at her, not daring to hope that it was true. The Other's words had seeded so much doubt, he dared not to even breathe near the possibility that the words the Other had spoken had been lies and deceit.

She found his crystal in the back of his left hand, the same hand he had picked up Myra's crystal and reactivated it with. Dead silence fell in the room as Diggory stared at the crystal. It was tiny and perfectly round, close to an inch and a half across. There was no blemish, no mark, yet Diggory could tell that the center was raised no more than an eighth of an inch to create a flattened dome shape with edges Diggory was certain would seem sharp to the touch.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Neuric's voice offered, breaking through the lack of thoughts Diggory had. He looked up at her and her regret was very visible. "I just made this very real for you."

Diggory covered the exposed crystal, giving her a weak smile. "No, it's better to know where it's at. Thank you."

Dr. Neuric uncovered the crystal, hiding it again in a way that Diggory's mind didn't keep up with. He was ok with that. She gave his hand a squeeze. "You are human, my dear. In every aspect, you are as human as your two male companions. But for whatever reason, you have one of their crystals in you as well and I do not think it had been active for long."

Diggory blinked at her, shock rolling through him. Advena spoke up for him, though. "He isn't what I am," they clarified.

"Correct." Dr. Neuric moved over to her aid that was holding a few things. She returned and held the device she had selected up. "Humans and your kind have different electrical fields. It was a recent discovery and it's not noticeable unless you have the right equipment. This pressed against the inside of the forearm takes a few seconds to register and then give a reading. It's harmless," she assured even as Advena and Diggory readily presented their forearms. Dr. Neuric gave them both a fond smile and first placed the device on Advena's arm. The screen remained dark for a few seconds before the light came aglow. Diggory didn't understand anything displayed. Dr. Neuric then placed the device on Diggory's forearm as the screen turned dark again. It took a moment but then the screen turned on and the only thing Diggory could tell was that the reading was different. Dr. Neuric's eyebrows, though, rose.

"Hm." She turned and spoke something that Diggory didn't understand to the helper. The helper nodded and quickly moved about, prepping something. Dr. Neuric looked back at Diggory, a thoughtful frown on her face. "If it is alright with you, I would like to try something. While your readings were indeed different, the reading I had received was not normal for a human and I want to see if it could be the crystal's energy."

The helper came back, speaking in that foreign tongue. Dr. Neuric took the few things, responding in kind. Dr. Neuric wrapped a strap around Diggory's hand, the other around his chest. Both straps had some sort of device on it, the one on his hand over the crystal, the one around his chest resting over his heart. There was a moment where no one moved, the doctor and aid's gazes on the devices. The pair chattered, cataloging whatever the devises were reading.

"The crystal is changing your physiology," Dr. Neuric finally informed them. "But into what, I do not know. But, right now, you are still very human."

Diggory nodded as the aid took the straps off. Dr. Neuric stepped back, letting them stand. She dipped her head slightly. "If it would be alright, while you are staying here, I would like to monitor your change. From what I can tell, it's not happening very quickly but it is happening."

Diggory offered a soft smile. "I do not mind. Thank you, Dr. Neuric." He turned to the aid as Advena opened the door. He bowed slightly towards them, offering, "Thank you."

The aid returned the gesture but didn't speak and Diggory and Advena vacated the room.

They stepped into chaos. There, in the middle of it, was Skit and Maric, having some sort of argument. The rest of the chaos the pair couldn't decipher. Diggory made his way over to Skit, Advena close at his heel.

"She broke your throne and cut your hair," Maric snarled low, the words barely making it to Diggory's ears. "You cannot go up against her again."

Skit sneered. "Don't care what you think, Maric. We cannot let this happen again."

"What happened?" Diggory cut in, gaining two sets of angry eyes.
"We've been attacked," Skit snarled. Diggory looked wide eyed at Meric for clarification.

"The ship is not damaged," Maric assured. "A party on the ground was attacked as was several transports. The attacks were done by an old foe."

"One that has caused damage before," Advena speculated.

Skit nodded. "I used to rule over a part of a kingdom a few years back. She came through and annihilated the kingdom I was apart of. In my kingdom, hair held significance. To have mine cut as a ruler by a foe was a sign of conquering. But it was more than that. The entire kingdom not only fell but was never rebuilt. She's just conquering just to conquer."

Meric shook his head. "She's one of three leading the armies of the Other to control the planet. Each have their own way of going about it."

"Wait, the Other?" Diggory cut in. "You mean to tell me that the Other's reach is world wide?!"

Meric nodded, his expression grave. Diggory pressed a hand to his face, feeling faint. Meric added, "It's why we freed you from the Other's clutches. We know the Other is after crystals and with one of your companions housing a live crystal and you have one in your pocket, there was no hesitation on our part."

"We couldn't have been the only reason why you went in there in the first place," Advena challenged.

"We were looking for the Other's stash of crystals," Skit confirmed. "It was sheer luck we happened to do it after you had been captured."

"Divine intervention," Meric corrected. "It would have been a futile attempt if the Other had collected another two crystals after we had left."

Skit hummed in agreeance. "Well, no use sitting around here. You're two companions are waiting for us in the hall. Come on, I was tasked with showing you guys where you will be staying."

Skit started for the door after gesturing goodbye to Meric. He reflected the gesture. Diggory and Advena fell into step behind her.

"Will the four of us be in a single room?" Diggory asked.

Skit glanced back at him. "We selected one of the family rooms for you four in case you wanted to stay together till you were comfortable. We also have set aside two doubles and four singles, just to leave options."

"I don't think Hunter had intentions of staying," Advena spoke up.

Skit nodded. "He's spoken the same thing but he is concerned - as are the rest of us - that the Other will now be after him and his family. We're organizing a team to go and pick up his family, just in case. Hopefully we beat the Other to them."

"Here's to hoping," Diggory muttered.

"You're hot and your cold," Roderick's voice said, sounding amused.

"What does that even mean?" Hunter challenged, his voice belaying his frustration.

The trio stepped out into the hall to find Roderick and Hunter leaning up against the wall. The pair looked to them as they arrived. Roderick stepped away from the wall first, asking, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Diggory assured him. "What were you two talking about?"

"We were playing a sight game," Hunter offered. "Roderick was cheating."

"Was not," Roderick countered. "There just happened to be two uniforms in the same area and you were closer to one."

Hunter glared at him but Roderick didn't react.
Skit arched an eyebrow at the two of them. "You two ready to move on?"

Hunter pushed off the wall, grounding out, "Please."

Skit nodded and led the way. Diggory glanced at the two men. While they seemed annoyed with each other, Diggory saw signs of exhaustion on both their faces. Not that he blamed them. He could feel exhaustion gnawing at his own body but the turmoil of the day was weighing heavily on him. He found his mind spacing out as Skit led the way and by the time they came to a door, Diggory was completely lost.

Skit turned to them. "Stay here and get some rest. Food can be accessed from within the room. I'll have either myself, Meric, or one of mine drop in within 10 hours to help and this is under the assumption you all are going to crash and not actually require food for the next 10 hours."

"Like Tork or rough guy?"

Skit stared at him, putting together the context before asking, "Rough guy?"

"The one that counted down to pickup and was with you and Tork when confronting Meric the first time," Advena commented. They always seemed to be able to understand Diggory's odd thoughts every now and then.

"Oh! You mean Red." Skit rubbed the back of her head, grinning. "Guess we didn't really do much of the way of introductions, huh?"

"Not even a little bit," Hunter spoke up, sounding pissy.

Skit activated the door and gestured in. "If you need anything, any of these will allow you to access the computer for basic controls such as food and asking for anyone you know. I'll make sure that the software is aware of the names you guys will use for us more often than not."

"Red and Tork are like Skit is for Skittle?" Advena clarified.

Skit nodded. "They have longer names or a completely different one in Red's case. We use nicknames, though, because that is our preference."

The group filed into the room. Skit stood in the open doorway, urging, "Get some rest and don't leave without an escort quite yet. The ship is massive and getting lost is a very high possibility. The computer cannot track you everywhere you go."

The group nodded and Skit stepped back, allowing the door to slide shut. The group spread out.

The space was rather massive. Attached were three rooms and Hunter and Roderick automatically picked the smaller two on the other side of the main space from the larger room. Diggory wandered over to the last room, sticking his head in. There was a rather impressive size bed and plenty of space. He glanced at Advena as they joined him. "You alright sharing a bed?"

Advena nodded. "If you are."

"I have no qualms with it," Diggory assured them, walking to the far side and stripping down to what he felt most comfortable in. Advena shed their cloak but stayed in their skin tight suit. Diggory ended up in boxers and pulled the vest back on. It was actually surprisingly soft and he didn't feel like being completely vulnerable quite yet. He didn't miss the fact that Advena had left the door wide open as they climbed into the very large bed with him. He burrowed deep into the wonderful covers and blankets that were weighted but seemed to not suffocate. In fact, the bed heated up real quick and Diggory found it suddenly really hard to stay awake as Advena shimmied closer to him.

"Do you want to know what I am grateful for?" Advena asked him softly, striking up an interesting conversation right off the bat.

He yawned, asking, "What?"

He couldn't keep his eyes open as she answered, "That I have an answer that I am proud of if someone ever asked me, 'Have you ever seen the rain?'."

"And what is your answer?" he groggily asked, losing the one sided battle against sleep.

"I've experienced it."

He fell asleep to that thought in his mind.
He woke not knowing what to expect of the new day. It would seem he had slept most of it away as Advena was not in the bed beside him, nor was their cloak anywhere to be seen. Getting up, he slowly dressed and stepped out into the main space. He found Advena on the couch reading a book tucked up in one of the window seats. The view was of an ocean spread out beneath them. It was clear that they were rather high in the sky as a cloud drifted past in the afternoon sun.

What are you reading?" he asked, leaning against the opposite edge of the window. Advena merely shifts the cover and spine so that he can read them. It wasn't anything he recognized. "Is it any good?"

Advena shrugged, lowering the book to a more comfortable position. "It's interesting, at least."

Diggory nodded and looked about. In the corner where what seemed to be the kitchen area there was a small array of food prepped.

"It's fresh," Advena assured. "The tech here is beyond anything you've probably seen but the food is still good."

Diggory nodded once more before wandering over, his stomach growling as he picked up the different scents. He doesn't touch, though. "We paying for any of this?"

Advena closed their book, meeting his gaze. "As far as I can tell, no. The food takes as much resources to prep and deliver as us breathing."

Diggory gathered a small plate."I feel kinda bad and rather relieved to know that we aren't getting charged for this. How long to Skit or hers drops by."

"They already did."

Diggory nearly dropped his plate. "How long ago?"

"About two hours. Skit figured it was best if you rested since it seemed you needed it. By the time they arrived, Roderick and Hunter were up and getting a bit stir crazy."

"And you weren't?" he clarified, sitting opposite on the window seat.

Advena shook their head. "I was quite content staying behind till you awoke. Skit and Red had come by to offer a tour if we were up for it. Skit said that Tork and Meric would not have an issue giving us a tour once you awoke and felt like it."

Diggory munched on his food, thinking. He looked out the window, still astonished at the sight even as his still tired brain didn't transfer that well into expression. "Where are we?" he asked, going with a different thought.

"Over one of the oceans. I didn't pay attention to which."

He looked at them. "Do you know where we are going?"

Advena shook their head and settled 'with the book once more. Diggory watched the clouds he could see in the refection of the ocean, lazily drifting in the same direction. He fell asleep propped up against the window, plate of food half eaten.

He came to with Advena gently shaking him awake.

Around him was a blanket from the bed. Only reason why he recognized it was because it still smelled of Advena.. Their scent was different enough from his that he was able to tell this had been their portion of the blanket. He wasn't sure they knew that or cared if they did. He focused on Advena, noting that his plate was gone. "Come one. You'd best sleep in a bed now after a bit more food."

Diggory followed them to standing but wasn't so sure about the whole eating thing. What he had eaten earlier had stayed with him rather well. Still, Advena led him back to bed before leaving him be long enough to make a fresh plate of food. By the time they were back - and it was a rather short amount of time - he had gotten the covers situated and had settled under them. He sat up and back against the wall, letting Advena place the plate on his lap. "Are the others back?"

"Their tour wore them both out but Skit assured me that it was to be expected," Advena confirmed. "Skit also said that I would be the least exhausted out of all of us."

Diggory frowned. "Why?"

"Some jibbery along the lines of "You float like a feather in a beautiful world"." Advena placed their cloak on the chair. "not sure hte intent behind those words, to be honest, let alone the meaning."
Diggory didn't understand the words either so he started to eat as he mulled it over. Advena settled on the bed beside him, picking at his plate from time to time. He didn't mind. But by the time his plate was half empty, he no longer had an appetite and was too exhausted to even try and keep eating. Advena gave a worried frown, taking the plate and helping him settle into the bed. They ran their hand through his hair, stating, "I am going to go get Dr. Neuric. You are not well."

Diggory batted their hand away gently. "I'm just tired, Advena."

Advena ran their hand through his hair one more time before stepping away. "Alright. If you need anything, just call."

Diggory nodded, already passing out.

When he awoke next, he was being thrown to the floor with Advena's body pressed flush against his and taking the brunt of the landing. He was alert just as they landed, brain registering the gun fire, though the sound wasn't quite right. Advena placed a hand square on his back as he laid on his stomach, hands going over his head. He could hear them firing back and knew better than to do more than what Advena directed. Suddenly silence fell. Diggory stayed frozen, almost fearing to even breathe.

"You two alright in here?" came an all too familiar voice and Diggory let out a sigh, relaxing as Advena removed their weight.

"Yeah, thanks to Advena," Diggory spoke. sitting up. The room looked like it had been shot a few times but, beyond what were probably nothing more than surface damage. "You two alright?"

Roderick was standing in the doorway with an unfamiliar weapon in his hand, Hunter behind him with a sword. Diggory had no idea where the man had gotten it, though it looked like nothing Diggory had seen before. Roderick nodded.

Hunter placed a heavy hand on Roderick's shoulder, urging, "We have to go. We need to find the others."

Advena helped him up as he asked, "What's going on?"

"An assault," Roderick filled them in, grabbing Diggory's arm and keeping him close. Advena was pressed against Diggory's other side as Hunter took the lead. Diggory noted in surprise that Advena's gun looked like it was morphed from her suit. He was suddenly grateful for having Roderick's grip on his arm as he wasn't sure he would have been able to stay upright. It felt like he was in the wackiest dream he had even dreamed and it was a very, very uncomfortable feeling.

The feeling only worsened as they progressed through the ship looking for anyone they recognized. By the time they ran into Skit with Red, Tork, and Meric, Diggory felt like energy was crawling through his skin and it was making him weak. Red was taking his other arm as Tork and Meric flanked Roderick and Advena. Skit joined Hunter, pushing them all into a room and taking up lookout with the sword wielder. "Good! You're alive! We were afraid we wouldn't find you."

"You alright, sweetheart?" Red asked Diggory, frowning. The man pressed a large hand against his forehead before snapping his gaze to Skit. "Boss! Kid ain't doin' well!"

Diggory frowned. That was certainly an interesting accent that came about when Red was anxious. He shuddered.

Skit pushed close as the others shifted about, compensating. She pressed her own hand to Diggory's bare skin, frowning. She snapped her gaze to Red. "Stay with him." She looked to Advena. "I need you to come with me and Tork." She whipped her head around. "Meric, you and the other two keep the room secure. I'm going to go find Dr. Neuric. We need her now."

"Ready or not, here I come!" came a singsong voice. Diggory's eyes snapped up. Standing in the doorway was the Other with a blade buried in Hunter's gut and a gun pointed at Advena's head. The Other gave a vicious grin and Red's attempt to push Diggory behind him. "You have a few things I want, Diggory."
"Over our dead bodies," Skit hissed, pointing her weapon at the Other.

The Other's vicious grin only grew. "As you wish."

The Other fired off the first shot at Advena as he yanked the blade from Hunter. Hunter went down and Diggory prayed he was still alive. Red was suddenly pushing him backwards as the others leapt forward to cover him. He couldn't even see Advena to make sure she was alive. Without warning, Red scooped him up - which was a feat considering the man was nearly a head and a half shorter than Diggory - and started running. With him in Red's arms, it was clear that the man was not going to get very far very quickly but as soon as they were briefly hidden from attack, Red swung him around, forcing him - the much larger and lankier of the two - to ride piggyback. He was certain if he hadn't been feeling so strange he would have found it hilarious.

Red took off at a sprint and it was clear this was much more ideal for the stout man.

Somehow Diggory missed the fact that the room they had ended up in wasn't a typical room. Whatever it was normally used for, Diggory couldn't tell, but there were a ton of tables before they were back in the hallways of the ship. Red maneuvered his way about with great ease, never relinquishing his grip on Diggory even when confronting enemy targets. As they encountered the first target, Diggory passed out.

When he came to, it was to a broad hand on his forehead that was trembling slightly and a soft breeze caressing far more skin than he was comfortable with. With a groan, he opened his eyes only to find that the broad hand had slid over them. He tried to reach up to move the hand but found his arms didn't work.

"Easy, sweetheart," Red urged, taking one of his hands and rubbing circles into the back of it. He had to admit, it was soothing. "Dr. Neuric is still working. You just stay still and go back to sleep."

"Can't," he croaked in return, finding that his mind was still too tired to even form more than a word at a time. "The...others."

"They'll be here soon, sweetheart. Just rest."

Diggory frowned. Somehow he managed to ask, "Why d'you call me sweetheart?"

He felt the flinch even through both of Red's hands. "Sorry. I can stop-"

"No," Diggory urged, though it didn't quite sound like he had intended. "I don't mind. Just....curious."

He could tell it made Red uncomfortable but for the life of him he didn't know why. He wished that he could pull off Red's hand so that he could see the other's face. It seemed rather expressive and it was the only thing going for him at the moment.

'I, uh," Red started. "It's a habit I picked up. Seems anyone that ends up important to me gets that nickname."

He frowned. That didn't sound like the whole story, let alone even a good explanation. It was vague and too broad. If that were true, wouldn't he be calling some of the others nicknames as well? Or had Red been using nicknames with the others and he just hasn't heard them? But that doesn't explain why Red was calling him sweetheart. It didn't seem to fit overly well for him.

"Sorry for the delay, Zander," Dr. Neuric's voice drifted in. "I had to try and keep from anyone noticing."

"He isn't doing well, Doc," Red pressed, shifting at Diggory's side. It almost seemed as if the man was leaning over him. "He's got a fever and he ain't been moving right."

There was movement and sound but Diggory couldn't make heads or tails of it. When it all stilled, Diggory found himself holding his breath right along with Red. Dr. Neuric drew in a shaky breath. "That would be because he is changing much faster than his body can manage properly. I don't know what is going on and I don't think-"

There was a loud crash somewhere close and he felt Red's body get really close to his. Diggory gave the man's hand a tight squeeze, hoping to convey reassurance. He wasn't sure it worked.

"'Somewhere in time I will find you and haunt you again,'" the Other's voice carried out. "I told you that time and time again, Old Man, and look where we are! Your creations ripe for the taking to allow me to fulfill that promise. I am going to ruin your life and I am going to do it with your own creation!"

A manic laugh filled the space and Diggory shifted slightly, gaining Red's attention. The man pressed his lips to Diggory's ear and whispered harshly, "Stay still sweetheart."

"I want to see," Diggory returned, his whisper breathless yet still as pressing. "Who is the Other talking to."

There was a pause.

"No one," came the tight reply.
Diggory didn't believe him. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Very," Red assured him. "I've got a clear line of sight. He ain't focusing on anyone specific when he's yellin' and no one's stepped forward to confront him.

Diggory tightened his grip on Red's hand. "Let me see."

The hand over his eyes twitched. "I can't. You need-"

"Red," Diggory begged. "Please."

The only noise came from the commotion the Other was creating somewhere Diggory couldn't see as the silence stretched between the two of them. The longer it lasted, the more Diggory feared that he would be denied again. Surprisingly, Red's hand slowly withdrew. "Alright, sweetheart. But only for a few moments. You really..."

The rest of Red's words were just noise as he opened his eyes. At first it was all a single wash with no detailing no nothing to distinguish what he was seeing into different objects. He blinked a few times, discovering that it caused his vision to clear. At first it stayed all the same color, just changing hue or saturation. Eventually he was able to make out color but it was weird, off even. Still, he took in both expressions above him. They were watching him like a hawk but he was more concerned about what was going on than placating them just yet.

He looked to the side but he couldn't see the Other. Whatever Red had witness had moved on. Heck, Diggory couldn't even see the Other. An odd white noise made it hard to hear anything either.

He looked down at himself.

They both leapt at him but it was Red that covered his eyes but not before Diggory's eyes widened in horror at what he saw.

He didn't fight Red as the man carefully maneuvered Diggory's head back to the pillow. Diggory could still see his body against the dark palm over his eyes in a weird after image. There, laid out, was a body he was not familiar with, a form that looked foreign and wrong. His vest had looked unharmed but his shirt had been cut haphazardly open. His pants were torn and barely hiding anything. What had been a fit body was now tones and ripe for a fight. Additionally, there was a spiderweb of iridescent veins branching out all over his body. If he had to guess, they came from his crystal.

The most troubling thing was the massive injury he had seen.

He didn't realized he was hyperventilating till Red leaned in close, offering sweet nothings in a low, soothing voice. Mixed into the nothings, though, were soft commands to breathe. Diggory followed them as best he could and found that the more he tried, the easier it became. Red successfully talked Diggory out of his panic but did not move far. The hand over Diggory's eyes remained and he was grateful for that. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to not look again if Red removed his hand.

"Better?" Red asked him.

"Yeah," Diggory answered. He gave a weak smile. "Thank you."

"Of course." There was a very loud commotion not far from them. Red was practically laying on top of him, even if the man was keeping space between their bodies. Red growled. "Dr. Neuric, we need to move him. Now!"

"Not until I secure the injury better," Dr. Neuric countered. There was some shuffling and Diggory frowned when Red seemed to tense. "Love is an open door. You'd best be careful who all you let you see how smitten you are."

There was some low grumbling. Smitten? Did Red like someone? Oh, he hoped it was Skit. He didn't know them very well but they seemed like they would make a good couple. But what if Red didn't swing that way. Tork, then? That seemed a whole lot more likely than Red and Skit, for whatever reason. Maybe-

His train of thought was derailed harshly by searing pain. He fought against the hands suddenly on him, trying to hold him down. He wanted to scream, to cry, but a second hand pressed against his face, covering his mouth and muffling the sounds trying to escape his throat.
Tears streamed down the sides of his face, wetting Red's hand in the process. Diggory fought with wall he had, trying to get away from the pain eating away at his side. Energy flashed through him and the searing pain went to an unrelenting burning through his veins.

The scream he released was not containable.

He must have passed out because he was coming to in complete darkness. He felt exhausted but the danger of the situation had not left yet. He shifted, finding that moving his body was easier than it had been the first time he had awoken. It still wasn't easy but it was nice to actually move. He pushed himself up, his head pounding every time his heart beat. He pressed the heel of his left hand against his eye in hopes to alleviate some of the pressure.

It didn't do anything.

He dropped his hand and took stock of himself. His skin was unblemished and porcelain white, a drastic contrast from the golden tan he had come to be used to. He ran his hand over where the large wound had been. There wasn't even a scar. Instead, a spiderweb of markings illuminated as his ran his hand over the area, the back of his hand glowing as well. The light spread and the markings spread and became apparent. Whatever had happened to him left him with a full body tattoo of sorts and the ability to make them visible or not. The nice thing about making them visible was that the room was bathed in the blue light, allowing him to see with ease, not that he hadn't been able to see to begin with. It would seem he now had access to different forms of sight. He looked about as the pounding in his head slowly subsided.

The place was a mess. It was like a bomb had gone off. There was a 20 foot radius around him clear of debris. He carefully pushed himself to his feet and found that his legs held him fairly well, all things considering.

Beyond the radius he found that the place was a disaster zone. Parts of the ceiling and above floors had collapsed, walls were nonexistent, and there were at least two spots where the floor had collapsed into the lower floors.

He spotted Red first.

He made his way over, feeling a strange disconnect from everything. As he approached, he became aware of Red's situation. The man was clearly unconscious still, if he was even alive. A faint, strange feeling brushed his heart but he paid it no mind as he started to figure out the best course of action to take. Red was pinned under a beam and several large pieces of debris. Only way he had known it was Red at all was because Red had yet to change out of his jacket and it wasn't one commonly worn on the ship.

He started moving the rubble from who he assumed was Red. Now that he thought about it, he would not be surprised to find it was someone else.

Turned out to be, in fact, someone else and they were dead. Still, Diggory reached down and picked them up, carrying them over to where he had woken up at and placed the person in the center. He went back to searching. Minutes turned to hours and he found more and more people but not once did he come across Red nor Dr. Neuric.

A cable sparked overhead. He was certain he was beyond the area they had been in. It was clear this was a new room even if it was just as destroyed as the place he had just stepped from. He took his time, being careful. If his speculation was not incorrect, he should be coming across Red's body. So far, there were no survivors.

Something out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. He turned and changed direction, finding that he had indeed caught sight of a foot. The number of severed limbs he had found was to be expected and, while he was anticipating finding a severed limb once more, he would be pleased to find a body still attached.

It was Red.

Diggory was far more careful with him than he had been with anyone else. He pulled the last bit of rubble off of him.

Diggory closed his eyes, letting out a tight sigh. A piece of sheet metal had buried itself into Red's back and there was no way that the man had survived this long with it in. Reaching forward, he was able to confirm with a touch.

There was no sign of life.

Diggory picked up the body with utmost care. He carried it back to the other bodies he had amassed, carefully placing Red near the center. It would seem he was still numb from the situation because looking upon his dead friend brought nothing forward. Even if he hadn't known Red very well, he had thought he had cared about the stout man.

Having found Red, though, left finding Dr. Neuric. Diggory was not expecting to find her alive. All that he had found so far were dead and the numbers were clearly starting to stack against him.

He paused in the middle of climbing over a chuck of ceiling. He frowned, glancing back. It was like he was trying to forget something, or was trying to remember something he had forgotten. It was an odd sensation to say the least.
Diggory came across his first survivor but it wasn't someone he recognized. The young woman was awake but very confused. He assumed she had a concussion at minimum. He knelt beside where she had situated herself, meeting her gaze. "I am Diggory. I have been looking for survivors and you are the first one I have come across. If you will permit me, I will carry you to where I started, where the gathered deceased are at. You will not see them."

She looked at him in a daze and, after a moment, nodded consent. He slipped his arms under her and found she was even lighter than the majority of bodies he had carried. True to his word, he placed her down against a chuck of ceiling that blocked her view completely of all the prone bodies. As soon as she was seated, he touched her head carefully, offering softly, "I am going to go look for others. Rest here and try not to move. I will be back shortly."

She watched him and, again, it took a moment before she nodded. Diggory stood and moved on.

He found four more bodies before he found Dr. Neuric.

She was alive.

He carefully roused her, watching as her eyes fluttered open.

"Dr. Neuric," he spoke, gaining the doctor's attention. As soon as she focused on him, she tried to get away only to flinch and hiss as she recoils. He reached out and she flinched again but his touch was gentle and she relaxed. Her skin felt warm against his hand and he belatedly noted that the other survivor had felt warm as well. Somehow they were both warmer than him but he didn't feel cold. "Your arm is broken," he surmised. He pressed his left hand over where he knew the fracture was at and his hand glowed. He felt her twitch in his hold but his grip was firm. The light lasted only long enough to come to full brightness and then die down. He released the doctor's arm. "How does it feel now?"

She stretched her arm about, testing it. She looked at him with an owlish stare. "Wh...how?"

Diggory shook his head. "I do not know the specifics, Dr. Neuric. I just know what I can do now as I come across the challenges that require my new skills." He tipped his head to the side, watching her expression. "I am afraid I do not remember much. I feel as if I have forgotten many things yet I hold a lot of knowledge. Accessing it has been something else, though."

Dr. Neuric nodded, taking in his appearance. He had yet to diminish his glowing markings, finding that he took comfort in their glow even as he had no need for their soft light. "How many survived?"

"One other beyond yourself that I have found," Diggory informed her, offering her a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her shaking legs. "I have not gone beyond this area due to having the need to find you and Red, of which only you are alive. Red was dead when I found him."

Dr. Neuric pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, paling. "Dear heavens above," she muttered against her hand. She lowered it, looking him straight in the eye. "Who is the other survivor?"

Diggory shook his head. "I don't know her name but she may have a concussion, thus why I am pleased that you are mostly unharmed. I do not have the knowledge to tend to her."

Dr. Neuric nodded, looking determined. "Lead the way, Diggory."

He did as he was told, taking her the safest yet quickest route he could right to the girl. Dr. Neuric ran ahead when they came into view, sliding to her knees beside the girl and checking her. Diggory stopped where he was at, leaving him too far to hear the conversation. The girl seemed to come to life at the sight of Dr. Neuric so either the girl was related in some way or the doctor was well known and loved. He cared not to hear their conversation and turned away.

"Wait!"

Diggory turned, finding Dr. Neuric standing with the girl leaning heavily on her. "Diggory, I need you to help me get her to an exit. We need to get out of here so that we can find the others."

Diggory nodded and walked over. He picked the girl up as he had done before and looked to the doctor. He found her startled gaze on him. "I do not know the ship, Dr. Neuric," he spoke, bringing her out of her daze. "I will rely on you to lead the way."

Dr. Neuric nodded and started walking. "This way."

It was a good two hours later before they found their way outside. It was dark and the lands around them were wild, but the weather was clear and warm. Diggory put the girl down beneath a tree at the doctor's directing and turned to face the ship. He couldn't see either end this close to the ship's side. He looked back at the two women. "Dr. Neuric, I am going to see if I cannot find any tracks leading away from the ship."

Dr. Neuric pointed towards the tail of the vessel. "Start in that direction, Diggory. The main impact would have been at the front."

Diggory nodded and turned but the next words he had caught made him stop dead in his tracks.

"I remember a song, like in a dream," the girl spoke. He heard Dr. Neuric kneel beside her. "A voice crying out at first only to weave words in a way that made me want to cry, to cheer, to sing right along with words that I didn't know, didn't understand. I can't remember the words but I remember the song."

Diggory turned, looking at Dr. Neuric specifically. "Doctor." She looked at him, her expression tired. "What happened back there?"
Dr. Neuric didn't look at him and Diggory wondered if she even could. Whatever had happened had made her uneasy around him and the past handful of hours hadn't changed that. Still, she spoke, "You went through a forceful change, one that happened to coincide with the ship going down. But in the end, It doesn't even matter. We need to find others. We have no weapons, no way of defending ourselves, and you are still too newly changed to be able to handle much more action."

Diggory frowned at that. "I feel fine, doctor."

"Are you aware that your left leg was sliced on our way out and that you took on my fracture?"

He blinked at her and looked down. Sure enough, there was a massive cut on his calf, one that should have made the leg useless to walk on yet he was still going not feeling any pain, not even after looking at it. Even his arm, he could feel the fracture as he ran his fingers over his arm but there was no pain to it. He looked up at the doctor, mildly confused. "How?"

Dr. Neuric shook her head. "Whatever you were changing into, the process was either interrupted or incomplete. No form would make itself painless on purpose." Her eyes narrowed. "Diggory, what do you feel when you think about Zander's passing?"

Diggory's head tipped to the side as he thought about it. There was an odd sensation at the pit of his stomach but, beyond that, "Nothing, really. I know I should feel some sort of grief but there isn't any."

Dr. Neuric's eyes closed. "Diggory." She opened them again. "I need you to take Sasha and get as far from here as you can. Settle in a town till things blow over. Stay put. I'll send others your way as soon as-"

The ground beneath their feet quaked before it broke apart and shifted violently. The piece Diggory was on shoved upwards and he was forced to dig into the surface as it pitched backwards in the same motion. The section Dr. Neuric and Sasha were on shuddered and sank. Diggory counted it as a blessing.

"Diggory~!" an oh so familiar voice sang out. The chunk of earth he was on stilled, now a wall he was clinging to. He turned his head and looked to the Other, finding that the man had something peculiar wrapped around his left arm and shoulder. He frowned. One of the pieces flashed and Diggory suddenly realized they were crystals. The piece that had flashed was Advena's.

Unadulterated fury flooded his veins and the markings on his skin suddenly illuminated at full force. He became a blinding beacon of light.

He kicked hard off the surface he had been clinging to. Bringing the hand with the crystal about, all the energy in his markings flooded his palm, collecting there until he could collect no more, and he released it in a blazing beam that was aimed rather well for a first go.

The Other, lost his right arm halfway through the forearm and lost his right leg above the knee with the left foot.

The Other didn't even flinch.

Diggory's eyes widened in understanding.

Sparks were flying from the joints he had cut, the areas around the slices white hot and melting.

The Other was either a cyborg or an android.

Diggory was going with the latter. He wasn't sure why but he was going with the latter as he brought all that energy to his palm again.

Something slammed into his side, throwing him into the side of the ship. He lost hold on the energy and the shot fired sideways and upwards, doing little damage to distant trees and lands. The Other buried the crystal coated arm near his head and Diggory glared at him, suddenly concerned for the drained feeling now clawing at his body.

"Pity your first shot wasn't quite on the mark," the Other drawled, grinning. "It will take a lot more than that to stop me."

Diggory frowned. "You're flying."

The Other laughed. "Slow as ever, Diggory!" The Other yanked his hand from the sheet metal and displayed it for Diggory. "This grants quite a bit. I'm able to negate gravity on myself and others as I see fit. I can also do this."

For the first time since he had woken up, excruciating pain tore through him, ripping a scream from his throat and causing his body to wither in agony. When it stopped, Diggory was panting, his body twitching from the onslaught. He had to fight to even stay conscious so he was surprised when words left his lips between gasping breaths. "What.....did you.....do?"

"I stole a good amount of your energy," the Other offered, shrugging. He gave a vicious grin. "Hurts, doesn't it? The nice thing about taking it from an unwilling party."

Diggory gave him a flat look, not believing the man had just said that. He wrapped his hand around the remaining wrist, gripping at the crystals beneath his touch as if to cling to a life line. They glowed brighter. Before the Other could even pull away, Diggory poured all he had into the crystals beneath his touch.

The Other screamed.

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, but when the Other fell away, all the crystals on the Other's arm had shattered. Diggory, still tucked into the plating where he had made a dent, was too numb to even move. He could see cracks all over his crystal, pieces already flaking off, but emotions were returning and he sobbed. He cried for those that he had found, he cried for Red, for the others that he didn't know if they were alive or dead. He cried for Advena who had been such a close and wonderful companion that knew so little about themselves and would now never know.

He cried because he had failed them all.

His crystal shattered.

[ArtisticVicu]

April 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

Xavier stared at the beast at the other end of the hall that he had been passing. He hadn’t meant to catch its attention but it seemed as if it was a moot point. The beast’s startling blue eyes were locked on him and, for the first time in his life, Xavier felt no fear for the situation that was most likely going to end in a painful death.

The creature turned slowly before suddenly charging. It was on him in a second and the only thing he could get his shaking legs to do was back up. His back it the wall just as the beast’s teeth sank into his shoulder. He let out a choked cry of pain before forcing himself to relax. The creature had only clamped down. There was no tearing, no continued mauling, and Xavier forced an eye open despite the pain he was in. As he pressed a hand into the fur on the creature’s neck, he offered in a soft, low voice, “It’s alright.” He felt like a fool but that didn’t stop him from trying to talk the creature down. “It’s ok. I’m not here to harm you. I’ll leave as soon as I can. But you have to let me go.”

The beast growled but Xavier felt the teeth leave his flesh. He rubbed a hand over the top of the creature’s muzzle, offering an exhausted smile. He felt the tremor of surprise and anticipation beneath his hand but the creature didn’t react much more than that, still watching him intently with those startling blue eyes. “Thank you,” he urged past the black overtaking his vision. His already weak legs gave out from under him as he passed out. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t hit something hard as he completely succumbed to the exhaustion in his bones.

To say that the past week for him had been hard was an understatement. Not only had he woken that first morning to his shoulder tended to and wrapped in clean bandages, he had come to discover that the snow storm had yet to let up. The day after he discovered the castle was enchanted. Two days after that, the stable roof collapsed due to snow collecting on the old roof, injuring his mare enough that she would not be able to pull the cart till the abrasion healed and his stallion had never had the temperament to be a cart horse to begin with meaning he was stuck there for an unknown amount of time. The two days that followed that he spent patching the roof in the bitter cold and occasional snow flurry enough that neither the horses nor his cart was damaged. And not even an hour ago he came to discover that the creature he had encountered his first being here was actually a prince under a curse that could no longer be broken.

He sat staring at his meal, not sure how to process that last bit. The creature had left after their short interaction. How he had managed to get the creature to even speak to him had been incredible. At least, that’s what the servants said. Supposedly it had been a year since the window for the curse to break had closed. The servants had thought they had been destined to be asleep forever but found they had awoken around three months later to a castle that looked more like ruins than an actual building and a prince that was no longer human; not one of the servants had seen him speak or behave like a human in the last nine months until just under an hour ago.

Xavier felt sick but he wasn’t sure he knew why.

He pulled his hair up, the long locks just making him too hot. He had long since abandoned his shirt and glove, leaving his skin free to breathe as he worked. The large section of roof that had collapsed was only being repaired because it was over an area of the castle actually being used. He climbed the ladder to where a few of the servants were already working. They didn’t make much progress on their own and Xavier only added so much, even after only 4 months of helping out. He really wished he was able to do more for them as he stepped up onto the roof, grinning at them. “Alright. Onto the next spot.”

There was a collective sound of confirmation and Xavier got to work. It only lasted about 15 minutes.

He stepped on a rotting board without realizing it and the plank gave out from under him. He tipped sideways and, for that brief moment he was in limbo, he saw the horror on the tools before he was suddenly falling towards the ground. He expected to die but found instead that he was caught by none other than Adam. Shaking, he gripped the cursed prince’s shirt, stuttering out, “N-n-nice catch.”

Adam’s arms tightened around him. “I’m glad I was able to make it in time. I think it’s time for a break.”

Xavier was carefully put onto his shaking legs and he nodded quickly. “Agreed.”

His scars slipped his mind till they were brought up a week later. Adam had placed one of his large hands over the majority of the burn scar hidden by his clothing and he shuddered, a part of him fearing this confrontation as another was startled that Adam even remembered where the scar was. But, unlike the disgust and rejection - or heavens forbid pity for scars over 10 years old - he had been expecting, Adam offered comfort and sympathy, letting Xavier talk it all out before asking questions. It removed a weight from Xavier’s shoulders he had not realized had been there. He found himself finally relaxing around Adam and their relationship became all that closer.

Xavier was surprised when the one year mark came and went. He found himself leaning on what remained of the balcony rail off of Adam’s quarters on the date that was the second year mark for the curse’s window closing. Adam came up beside him, still as large and burly as ever but looking well dressed. Adam placed a large hand on Xavier’s back and the smaller man leaned into the warm paw, easily shifting to lean against Adam’s very warm chest.

“How are you feeling?” Adam asked, the words a low rumble in the burly chest beneath him.

“Still can’t seem to get warm,” he confessed, shame burning his cheeks. Adam automatically wrapped his large arms around him and Xavier melted into the warm that wrapped around him with the gesture. “But this is helping. I’m also achy and tired but if I stay in bed for another minute, I will go absolutely mad.”

“So you decided to come and settle on the cold balcony outside my quarters?” Adam chuckled.

Xavier shrugged. “It was a pleasant walk, to say the least.”

Adam hummed before shifting his arms around Xavier. Xavier gave an undignified squawk as he was picked up. He held onto Adam as best he could but the prince didn’t seem to have an issue with carrying him. Xavier’s cheeks burned but this time it was out of embarrassment. “Adam! What-”

“I’m bored and the book I want is in the library,” Adam spoke, cutting his words off. “And since it would be pointless to leave you by yourself, I am taking you with me and we are settling before the fireplace in the library for the rest of the afternoon.”

Xavier settled down, trusting Adam. He gave a noncommittal hum and found that the motion and warm were lulling him to sleep. He fought it but found himself waking tucked up against Adam on the couch before the fire in the library, Adam asleep beneath him with a book resting on the broad chest. Xavier found that he was quite content there with the cursed prince and made no move beyond picking up the book Adam had started. Making sure to not lose the prince’s place, he settled more against Adam, turning to the first page. His mind briefly turned to all that had happened in the last year and how he was looking forward to the coming year with Adam.

Movement drew his eye to the human servant dusting at the other end of the library. It made Xavier’s stomach do a funny little flop. If the curse was breaking on the servants, then hopefully it would break on Adam as well. The man was not the man that had been cursed all those years ago. Adam - and even the servants - had told him how he had been cursed in the first place in a accepted resignation about the subject. Adam had come to accept his fate for what it was and regretted that it had involved the servants. Xavier knew he was not alone in his fleeting hope that Adam would one day become human again. Every single servant wished that right along with him.

Turning his thoughts back to the book in his hand, he started to read out loud, “This is a tale as old as time…”
She slammed into the ground, her conjured wings shattering on impact as the sand sprayed everywhere. She wasn’t sure how she managed to retain her form, let alone wake up afterwards, but she wasn’t complaining. She pushed herself up as several objects landed not too far off. Ahead of her was a house tucked into the base of a cliff on what appeared to be a statue lady’s lap. Odd but she wasn’t about to question the decor just yet. Or was it in the statue lady’s hands? It was hard to tell. Said statue had not been tended to well over the years but that was to be expected. None of the sites were doing well since the war.

Figures were running towards her and she conjured her wings once more, wincing at the strain it put her under. Forcing herself up to her feet, she stumbled, and a set of strong hands caught her. She pushed against the body attached to those hands. “Ne ut a me,” she ground out, “Dimitte me alioquin interficiam te animula vilis.”

“Easy, Onyx,” a voice she hadn’t heard in centuries spoke. “It’s us. It’s Garnet.”

“Garnetus?” she looked up into the face above her but still tried to get some distance. “Probare. Ostende mihi faciem tuam oculis meis.”

“Ok, ok,” Garnet soothed, taking off her glasses to show her eyes as demanded. Onyx relaxed, finding the three eyes as they were supposed to be. Onyx closed her eyes, her entire form shaking for exertion. Garnet’s hand moved to her cheek. “Hey, is everything alright? What was all that about having to see my eyes?”

“Quod secutus sum- no. I am cum eorundem….cum.” Onyx made a face. She knew the words. A handful of years should not have ruined her knowledge of such a simple language. “I am….followed, hunted…no. Ego cum eorundem domi- tracked! I am being tracked. Semel stultus lingua.”

“Tracked by what?”

Onyx looked up at Garnet, regret flashing across her face. “Synths.”

“Synths?” a new voice question, causing Onyx to jump, straining against Garnet’s touch. Garnet placed herself between the new arrivals - for there was more than just the one that spoke - and calmed her down.

“Easy, Onyx. They’re just my friends. Not Synths.” Garnet turned as if to double check but it opened Onyx up to see for herself. All three new arrivals had their eyes uncovered and were looking with eyes that were very normal. She let out a shaky breath, her knees collapsing under her. Garnet caught her with ease. “I’ve got you.”

“Paenitet,” Onyx responded automatically and tried to get back up. Garnet seemed to have no part of that and scooped her up. Onyx found herself too tired to fight it. “I will be bringing danger. I must leave, Garnet.”

“After you have rested. The temple will protect you till you are fit enough to continue your travels,” Garnet assured her and Onyx sagged against her.

“Gratias tibi, Garnet. Thank you.”

When Onyx opened her eyes, she found herself on a foreign object that had a surprising give to it. Sitting up, weariness dogged her steps and she rubbed at an eye, looking around. The room was empty baring the furniture and items that appeared to belong there in the first place. Moving the blankets, she rested her feet against the floor, wondering if trying to stand was such a good idea. Best way to find out was try it. She pushed herself to her feet and lasted all of a second before her legs gave out again.

She didn’t reach the floor.

Garnet was beside her, a hand against her chest to keep her from falling farther as the other hand went to her waist. Onyx placed a hand on Garnet’s arm, apologizing. “Sorry, Garnet. But I must keep moving.”

“You can speak in the other. I can understand you just fine,” Garnet assured her as she righted her.

Onyx shook her head. “It gets easier to deal with a language once I have, uh…interacted, est pars….immersed myself back into the language. Some words will still be hard but I used to know this language as well as my native tongue. Having been so far away from it has caused,” she waved her hand about as a gesture of her lack of a word preference, “I guess holes is best to describe it, in the knowledge that I have. The more I interact with the language, the more I’ll remember.”

Garnet nodded. “If you’re sure.” She looked about. “The others will be here shortly.” Garnet looked back down at her. Onyx realized that Garnet was without her shades. She appreciated the gesture. “They have questions.”

“As I’m sure you do as well,” Onyx agreed. “Do you want to wait or-”

“Why are the Synths after you?” Garnet cut in.

Onyx gained a fond smile. That answered that question. “Why aren’t the Synths after me? I’m a Messenger. I have always been targeted by the Synths.”

“Are there others?”

“Messengers?” Onyx clarified. Garnet nodded and Onyx shook her head no. “As far as I can tell, I am the last. I have not encountered another in the last half century. While our workings have us far apart, I have never gone this long without meeting one in passing.”

Garnet put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Have any of the Diamonds done anything about this?”

Onyx gave a skeptical laugh. “Garnet, the world of the Gems has advanced since the last time. The…need for me has decreased to almost nothing. I am surprised I am even being kept whole and not shattered. But, then, I guess they are…anticipating the Synths to do it for them.”

Garnet sighed, clearly frustrated. “Then stay here. We can deal with any Synths that show up. We’re strong. We’re-”

“If they come here, this planet would not survive. Or, at least, not the sentient beings here. You and I both know the Synths and their…virus like nature. They will come in and take out the sentient life here just because they can.”

Garnet rubbed at her face. “Ok, ok. But we can’t just let you try and survive on your own. There has to be something we can do.”

Onyx offered a tired, endearing smile. “You know that I would trade anything to be a part of your world, Garnet, but with the Synthetics locked onto my scent, I am a danger to you and your home.” She touched Garnet’s arm, gaining a conflicted look from the fusion. “But you and I also know I am not cut out to fight. I am a Messenger, not a Crystal Gem. And as much as I would love to stay here with you fighting the good fight, I have my own fight to attend with before I can aid you in yours.” She gave Garnet’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll be fine.”

Conjuring her wings, she plucked a crystal without a thought, shaping it into a crystal starling and offering it to Garnet. “It’s not anything fancy but it does relay real time messages.”

“You won’t stay even for a little bit? Steven was hoping to at least get the chance to make a new friend,” Garnet implored.

“Steven?”

“The little boy with the star on his shirt.” Garnet even held her hand out at Steven’s height.

“Oh! Is he to be here soon, then?”

Garnet nodded. “In a minute.”

Onyx dissipated her wings, returning to the couch. “Then that gives us just a small amount of time to continue catching up then.”

Onyx was grateful for one thing from the Synthetics as Garnet sat opposite of her; Garnet was far more expressive without the shades she always wore and the look of tentative joy on her old friend’s face was a heart warming one.
“I’ll make a man out of you yet, boy!”

The bellowed words echoed in his head as he raced through the house. He had probably a two minute lead. He just hoped it was enough. He ripped up the loose floorboard in his room that he had stashed all his most prized possessions, shoving them into the sack in his hand. He took off down the stair and around the corner, yanking the stairs to the basement open. He was careless running down the stairs and his food slipped on the second to last step. He caught himself of the rail and kept going. He grabbed a crowbar from the toolkit nearby and shoved it in between the doors to a locked cabinet. He ripped the doors apart. Inside were a few more of his possessions he had not had the opportunity to stash in his room and now they were his once more. Booking it up the stairs, he heard the front door finally give. Not even daring to look at the carnage, he made a mad dash for the back door.

He heard the man right behind him as he took off as fast as he could across the yard and over the back fence, tearing down the driveway and barreling across the street. Miraculously, timing was on his side for there were no cars to hit him or for him to collide with. He was across the street and halfway through the next alleyway before the man was cut off by traffic.

Even then he didn’t dare slow down.

An hour later, his lungs were burning and the adrenaline had left him completely, leaving him shaking and unable to really move. But he had to keep going, he had to keep moving. If he stayed still too long, he would be caught and shoved back into that horrible home. He pulled out the slip of paper he has scrawled on between school and the house and looked over the words he had long since memorized.

He came to a stop at a street corner, turning his gaze to the street signs. He took a left.

By the time night fell, he was standing on the porch of a ranch style home on a nice lot. Swallowing down his sudden anxiety about the situation, he knocked on the door.

He didn’t have much time to regret his actions as the door was opened not even five seconds later. There, standing on the other side, was a regal man with black, wavy hair and a hooked nose. The man sneered at him and he flinched back, adverting his gaze. Before the man could even reprimand him, he quickly asked, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, sir. Does Rachel Gold live here? She gave me this address and I was hoping that it hadn’t been a mistake.”

He didn’t dare look up. He didn’t want to see the utter glee in the man’s gaze when said man turned him away with a simple word. He jumped when said man placed a hand on his shoulder. It was heavy, firm, but nothing like the hands that had fallen on his shoulder at home. He looked up at the man, a glare on his face out of defensiveness as his body automatically curled away from the touch. The man didn’t let him go but his expression was far more neutral than anything he had ever had directed at him from this man.

“She is currently in the library,” the man offered, his voice civil and low. While his initial thought was that the man was doing it for his sake so as not to spook him again, he figured it was actually due to trying to restrain himself from lashing out at him. The man’s hand finally left his shoulder as the man turned to close and lock the door. He felt on edge when he heard the lock slide into place. “Take you shoes off and stick them with the others and I will show you where she is at.”

He did as he was told, tucking his shoes into the corner as out of the way he could manage, attempting to keep his things to as small of an annoyance as he could manage. The man led him through the home.

Despite his first impression, the ranch style home was actually impressively big and deceptively level. When they entered the library, he knew instantly that this was where Rachel was going to be. The room was in the back of the house and was most likely the same square footage as the house itself. It was massive and impressive and, quite honestly, he just wanted to find a corner out of the way and undisturbed where he could live forever. Screw what everyone thought about him. This was heaven.

“If she hasn’t moved, she will be over this way,” the man offered, heading into the maze of shelves without hesitation. He hurried to keep up or be lost among the shelves till someone found him. Tempting but he was there for a reason.

They rounded what felt like the hundredth bookcase when they came across Rachel. She was tucked into a window seat, a book on her lap and the table in the area littered with all sorts of things. She glanced up upon their arrival. Her face lit up when she saw him and she quickly shoved the closest thing into the pages of the book. “Harry! What are you doing here?”

“I figured I’d make good use of your address since you gave it to me, how many years ago, now?”

“Two,” she chuckled, looking to the man with the hooked nose. “How long can Harry stay?”

“That depends on what his guardians say on the matter,” the man spoke, gaze sliding to him. “Do you have a number I can call them at, young Harrison?”

The color drained from his face as he glared at the man. Though his tone had been civil, the way he had spoken the words had been mocking. Rachel seemed to be quick on it as well for she actually stepped forward, almost placing herself completely between him and her guardian. “That is uncalled for and you know it.”

Harry stared at Rachel, not sure how to react to that. No one stood up against this man like that, let alone anyone that wanted to live. But it seemed Rachel was a special case because the man returned his attention to Harry and apologized. “Forgive me. It was not my place to judge. I have no quarrel with you staying for a while but I cannot permit your stay to be overly lengthy without your guardian’s permission.”

The color had yet to return to his face as he shook his head. “I’ll just leave when my time’s up. No use getting them involved.”

He caught Rachel’s confused frown but missed her guardian’s mirroring expression. The man nodded, clearing the expression from his face. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour.” The man turned his attention to Rachel. “Tom will be home in the next fifteen minutes.”

Rachel nodded. Her guardian left them be and Harry took a seat on the window seat, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. She sat down next to him but didn’t touch. “Let me guess, you’ve ran away from home.”

He looked at her, his fear of the situation finally showing on his face. “Please, you have to get your folks to not call mine. If they call, they’ll know where I’m at and I don’t want to go back. I can’t! Not anymore.”

Rachel held up her hands though her calm expression hadn’t changed. “I will do what I can but it would be better coming from your lips than mine.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know if I can do that.”

[ArtisticVicu]

May 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

“I’m not sure this is the wisest of choices, Tai Hao,” his companion informed him, watching as he shoved at the barrel and rolled it across the floor.

“Nonsense! This will work perfectly,” Tai Hao countered happily, a mischievous grin on his face. His companion didn’t believe him and expression and stance translated that well. He couldn’t help the chuckle. “Come on, Levine. It’s not that horrible.”

“Says the one shoving a highly explosive barrel,” muttered the polecat. “Look, I don’t care how perfectly this will go. It’s a bad idea.”

Tai Hao shrugged. “If it works, it works. What’s a few missing hairs.”

“Says the wolf!” Levine countered sharply. “I am not as big as you, let alone as hardy.”

Tai Hao gave one last shove and turned at a run. He scooped Levine up, grinning. “All the better. If you were any bigger, this wouldn’t work.”

He shoved Levine up the small opening, following as quickly as he could. Levine pulled at his shirt but it helped little. Tai Hao made it up through the gap just as the first explosion rocked the floor. Tai Hao scooped Levine up again. “Out of time.”

Down the hall, up the stair, round a corner, down another corridor, another corner, a second followed by a third set of stairs, and they reached the deck of the ship as a final blast rocked the entire vessel, blowing out a section of hull on the bow’s port side.

Chaos ensued.

Tai Hao raced across the deck with Levine clinging to his back. Tai Hao had hoped to have gained a few seconds of cover from the confusion but he was spotted instantly.

“Stop them! Don’t let them escape!”

Tai Hao growled. There was a flash of steel and he met saber with saber. He threw the assailant off, using the momentum to keep going forward. They had to make it to the long boat before the rest of the crew realized just how screwed they were but said crew kept getting in his way.

As the ship started to list, the Captain cut him off and Tai Hao skidded to a stop, hissing in displeasure.

“Get to the long boat, Levine,” Tai Hao ordered.

“But-”

“No,” he snarled, cutting him off. “Go. I’m right behind you.”

Levine removed Tai Hao’s knife from its sheath at the small of the wolf’s back before dashing off. The crew went after him but Levine was quick and was out of sight in an instant. The Captain bade the polecat no mind, eyes solely focused on Tai Hao.

“You have been a pain in my side since we swept you up, landlubber,” the Captain growled.

Tai Hao shrugged. “More of a seadog than you know, Captain,” he offered with a smirk, his body appearing relaxed as he played confidence acting as if the Captain wasn’t the threat he really was. “I’d show you a few pointers but you might hurt yourself.”

The Captain lunged at him. Tai Hao misjudged his ability to dodge fast enough and received a slice across his shoulder for his mistake. Still, it got him in close and he buried the hilt of his saber into the Captain’s gut. Said Captain was hardier than that and pain erupted on the same shoulder Tai Hao had already injured as the Captain’s own hilt drove itself into the joint. Falling to a knee, Tai Hao brought his sword about and sliced the underside of the Captain’s sword arm. Blood gushed over his head and shoulders, the low angle of attack not the greatest of ideas but it was effective. The Captain jerked away and Tai Hao dashed around him.

“KILL HIM!”

Tai Hao internally winced at the roar. Of course he would gain the Captain’s wrath with a move like that. Not to mention, if he hit the artery, the man would bleed out if it wasn’t attended to soon. He ignored the guilt that ate at him. He could wallow in self misery about no longer being a pacifist later.

Levine was holding his own rather poorly but enough that the long boat was still theirs. Tai Hao took out Levine’s assailants and wrapped an arm around the polecat one last time, throwing him into the long boat before diving in after him. “Hang on!” he shouted before cutting the ties.

The boat gave out from under them and Tai Hao found his stomach in his throat. They hit the water hard and he slammed into the bench, certain he felt a few ribs crack. With pain lacing through his body with each movement, he shoved himself towards the oars and grabbed them both. He had received worse injuries than this and had to do a lot more than simply row with them. This was nothing.

By the time they had a league between them and what remained of the sunken ship, Tai Hao pulled the oars in, groaning as his entire body screamed at him. Levine shifted behind him, groaning as well but for a separate reason.

“Ah, what happened?” Levine asked, looking about. “We made it?”

Tai Hao covered his bleeding shoulder, now feeling the effects of blood loss. “Yeah, we did. I take it you hit your head with our landing?”

Levine nodded, making his way over. Somehow - miraculously - Levine’s glasses had remained on his face and intact through the whole ordeal, meaning that the polecat could see a lot more than hazy shapes. His small hands moved Tai Hao’s and there was a sharp intake of breath from the smaller creature. “Tai Hao, you’re supposed to protect yourself, not get skewered in every fight,” Levine chided.

Tai Hao chuckled weakly. “Trust me. I would if I could but he was a lot faster than I had anticipated.”

Levine hummed. “Well, at least it’s a clean slice. Will make patching you up all that easier.” Tai Hao involuntarily flinched when Levine prodded the wound rather forcefully. “Even with you making it worse by rowing so…..aggressively.”

Tai Hao gave him a flat look. “Hey, you were asleep while I was rowing. As far as you know, I had caught a swift current.” Levine met his gaze with an equally flat look. Tai Hao conceded. “Ok, so I could have been a bit more careful rowing.”

Levine gave a curt nod in acknowledgment before moving to grab the first aid kit. Tai Hao looked back at the wreckage, his entire being feeling heavy with guilt of the actions he had taken to stay alive and make it back home.
The first thing he noticed was the ringing in his skull. It was high, sharp, and painful. He winced, subsequently agitating other injuries. His entire went from numb to on fire in that one motion and he let out a sharp his, forcing his left socket open. He couldn’t seem to get the view in focus and his magic was acting weird. He knew he had no pupil present, he could feel that, and being unable to form one meant that there was something terribly wrong. He had the magic for it, it just wouldn’t form. He opened his other socket and felt the magic automatically fill the void, creating the soft spot of an eye light that was the useless pupil of his blind eye. Great. He was more or less blind, then.

He tried to move only for a cry of pain to rip itself from his throat. His entire left arm was on fire and the pain in the same hip was crippling. He felt tremors course over his bones, his magic sputtering all about trying to heal the injuries he was irritating. He focused, taking in stock of what his magic was doing; it was a pointless endeavor.

There was too much damage. He had sustained more than his magic knew how to deal with, meaning that there was no order to the process and being unable to see or really distinguish the injuries he had sustained, he had no way of directing the chaos without an outside source. He closed his sockets, trying really hard to relax as his magic worked frantically to heal everything at once.

When he came to again, he was able to see better than the first time he had awoke, though it was not still not up to par. Everything was still blurry outside a given radius but now he could look at himself and take in the damage he had sustained.

He retched at the sight. He pressed a shaking hand to his teeth, pupils gone from both sockets as he took in the information.

He should be dead. There was no way in the Undergrounds that he should be alive. Why was he alive?!

He forced his pupils to reform, bringing the world into a tighter focus. He looked around, searching for anything that told him why he was still alive, but the only things around him that he could distinguish was the dirt churned by whatever had happened and hunks of material that looked like rock and metal. There were no other bodies, no piles of dust.

His gaze snapped down to his person but he was dust free.

H-how? How was this possible?! He should be dead! He was not a strong monster!! He was weak, and frail like his dad! Like his pa! He shouldn’t be alive! He shouldn’t-he shouldn’t….

Something wet hit his hand and he blinked, finding his vision clearing as another drop of liquid hit his hand. Tears. Magical tears. He gave a dry laugh. He was crying. He was crying because he was alive and he shouldn’t be.

His started to laugh hysterically. He had truly lost it. That was it. He had finally lost it after so long!

A sob choked him in the middle of a hysterical laugh. He pressed his hand to his face as he tried to laugh hysterically and sob at the same time.

It only made him vomit.

The sour taste of half digested magic broke through whatever he had been in the middle of and he came to as if he had awoken for a third time staring down at the discharged magic. Swallowing thickly, he wiped at his mouth, wishing he had some water.

Finally, the world around him was coming into clear focus and he let out a whimper. He didn’t recognize where he was, but that could be due to the evidence of the explosion he was certain he had miraculously survived. He felt the last of magic healing his injuries dissipate. Not overly skilled in healing magic, it was no surprise that it still hurt to move but he was able to get to his feet, even if it was unsteadily.

He used the nearest chunk of building to keep himself upright as he took another look around from the new perspective. Yep, still no fricken clue where he was. Man, his dad was going to kill him. And then his Dunkle was going to ground him for the rest of his natural born life and then some. He groaned. He was not looking forward to seeing his family.

A part of him knew that, while they would be upset that he had been at the labs without permission, they would be beyond relieved that he was alive and in - mostly - one piece. Only issue was that he had no idea where he was.

In what he could only deduce as two hours later without an actual clock to look at - he had lost his phone in all the chaos and it would honestly not surprise him if the thing was destroyed - he sat down on the dirt, feeling as if he was going in circles. He moaned, tightening the arm currently wrapped around his still fractured ribs. He had discovered they were still fractured after a rather stupid stunt and he had bound them as best he could but still they hurt if he moved the wrong way. He was finding as the day wore on that any move was the wrong way.

He opened his eyes, finding it hard to stay awake. He had never realized how large the forest was in these parts and the snow was not helping. He was grateful he was a skeleton but he could still succumb to hypothermia just like any other monster not built for chilling temperatures. He would be fine as long as he didn’t fall asleep but, right now, sleep seemed like the greatest thing to do.

He shoved himself upwards, swaying so badly that he slammed his shoulder into a tree and managed to scrape at the bark to keep himself upright. The sudden surge of pain worked wonders at waking him up in that instant. Hissing, he summoned his magic, leaving it formless so that it supported him more fully and used it to straighten himself out. He eased up his control and the magic dissipated completely.

The indignant squawk that left him he would deny fiercely and take the fact to his grave. Thankfully, his magic was a step ahead of him. His panic had flared magic out of his right socket - which, honestly, was far easier than his left seeing as the right one was already damaged to begin with - and sent a burst of magic to form between him and the ground.

Instead of hitting the ground, he barely fell a few inches before something pressed up against him, catching him. Opening his sockets, magic still spilling from his right socket like a flame, he found himself laying across a massive skull. It was so large, he could fit himself, his Dunkle, and his dad in there and they would still have room to move about comfortably. Heck, he and his dad could sit up within the maw. He stared, wide-eyed at the beast of a skull and the only thought that came to mind was dragon. He squealed in delight - and nearly fell backwards with the sudden upward momentum of joy. The skull reacted and careful teeth closed around what fabric still remained on his small frame, keeping him from falling to the ground for a second time. He instantly leaned forward, laying across the snout of the skull and resting his chin on it, patting where his hands rested outstretched. “I can’t believe it,” he croaked, his throat feeling raw. It wasn’t much of a surprise. He needed some water when he had first woken up and he still hadn’t found any. “This’ll make finding home all that much easier.”

There was very little thought that needed to go into getting the skull to do what he needed it to do. In fact, it was so effortless, that he nearly thought the thing was sentient. He’d have to ask his dad if the things had any sentience to them. Or his Dunkle. They both were able to summon them. He had seen them on a few, rare occasions.

The skull shifted, scooping it onto the snout properly. He shifted about till he was settled in and the skull took to the air. He could feel it using his magic but it didn’t feel like a strain and it wasn’t using magic quickly. As soon as they rose above the trees, though, he shivered. The trees had been blocking most of the wind and now he was fully exposed. Pressing closer to the skull, he felt more than heard it hum, a pool of magic forming in the back of the skull’s mouth. It warmed the bone beneath him and, while it wasn’t quite enough to warm him up completely, it did mitigate the freezing air enough that he stopped shivering.

He could definitely feel the pull on his magic now but he knew he could generate about four more of these things, charge them multiple times, and fire the blast without even taking a fifth of his magic. It left him baffled. He had been so used to having only enough magic to keep his body together, he never dreamed suddenly having an overflow of magic to the point of creating things he never dreamed he would be able to produce.

Shifting about, he looked down on the fog in the forest that had been obscuring the majority of his long distance view while he had been in it. He was close to the edge of the forest’s border with the warmer climate region that followed, which meant-

He looked up. Sure enough, the ceiling had dropped significantly at a sharp slant, plateauing out above his head a good hundred or two feet over the treetops. It would do another sheer drop till the warmer climate region turned into caverns.

He knew where he was at, finally. He had been heading in a good direction at least. He was rather close to the warmer region and would have reached its waters within the day. But, this way, he didn’t have to backtrack.

The skull turned around, pointing towards home. Even from this distance, he could see all of the town he called home situated in the heart of the forest, and on the edge closest to him was the lacking view of the lab. He pushed the skull forward and the thing took off like a bullet. He let out a whoop of surprise and excitement as he shot through the air. The icy wind stunk his eye sockets and magic built up and spilled out of them like tears.

He collided with something.

Something rather fluffy wrapped around him and he clung to the fluffy mass, finding it fantastically warm. He nuzzled into it, nearly purring.

A familiar chuckle was heard over his head and his head snapped back to meet the relieved gaze of his dad. “Hey, baby bones.”

This time the tears spilled over the rims of his sockets out of joy as he buried his face into his dad’s chest again. “Dad!” he called out, holding tight. His dad gave him a squeeze, a skele-kiss bouncing against the crown of his skull. “I’ve got ya,” the older skeleton uttered softly. “I’ve got ya.”
“Hey.”

She looked over, her fingers fluttering uselessly in response in a form of sign language no one understood.

Her visitor interpreted the gesture correctly, though, and settled at her side, arms on the rail in a position that mirrored hers. She turned her attention back on the scene before her, not really seeing much of it. as her mind wandered. Her visitor shifted and she looked over, watching as they pulled out a cigarette packet. She arched an eyebrow at them when they noticed her gaze and she gestured as if to smoke, an incredulous look on her face.

They chuckled. “Hey, you don’t know everything about me.”

She gave them a flat look. She pointed at the cigarettes before pointing at her visitor and then crossed her arms, hands straight and rigid. It was enough that her visitor understood. They gestured at her with the box. “I do too smoke.” She swiped at the box and nearly had it. Her visitor skittered back a few steps. “I just don’t smoke around you.”

She glared at them before crossing her arms, arching an eyebrow in challenge. Her visitor flinched. “Alright, alright. I stole them from Cronis. I just…” Her visitor looked down at the cigarettes in their hand. “I just wanted to see if they worked how I need them to.”

Her entire demeanor softened and she stepped up, placing a hand on their shoulder. They gave her a tired smile. “Guess his death was hard on all of us, huh?”

She nodded, no feeling up to attempting a comforting smile. It wouldn’t come out right anyways.

The cigarette box was placed on a nearby table as she waited at the railing. Her visitor came back, resuming the first position they had taken upon arrival. She mirrored them, looking out once more.

The silence wasn’t oppressive like it had been with most that had come to be with her. Unlike the others, this particular visitor understood. At least, understood to the extent an outsider could understand. There was no pity, no walking on eggshells. It was nice.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” they spoke, their words soft and heavy. She glanced over and took note of the unshed tears in her companion’s eyes. She didn’t bring any attention to them. It would not surprise her if her companion had yet to truly grief the loss. She had long since run out of tears within the last week. Heck, after the first day. She focused back out onto the view but she didn’t really see it. “It’s still so surreal. I keep expecting him to be there and then I remember and it’s so hard.”

She felt a weight being put on her soul and she closed her eyes. He wasn’t just hers, she had to remember that. He had been around the others and, while he may have been her twin, he had been friends and family for many others. She was not the only one to have lost.

She still felt irrational rage at the words her companion spoke.

How dare they.

“I can’t begin to fathom what your loss is compared to mine, Miko.”

Ice flooded her body as the conversation turned in a direction she hated. Her companion didn’t look at her, though, and she was grateful for that small amount of mercy.

“He was at your side since birth. He was your voice, your way of communicating with the world. You two had always been together and, while there were times you two had been apart, he always came back and now…” Her companion rubbed at their face. “And now he’s just gone.”

The words were spoken in a whisper but she heard them clearly and they hurt. They hurt so much. But she didn’t have any tears left to cry. Stuck in a sort of painful limbo, she pressed her face into her hand, wallowing in turbulent emotions she had no names for.

A careful hand was placed on her shoulder and she looked up. Her companion was crying. “I’m…..I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it, to portray what I want to say. Sorry’s the best word I’ve got in my repertoire.”

She shrugged, not sure how else to react to that.

Her companion’s hand left her shoulder.

There was a sniff from her left but she ignored it. The pain, the anguish, had turned to fury. She was mad at her companion for saying such things. She was mad at everyone for thinking that he had been theirs. She was mad at her brother - her twin - for abandoning her like that. How could he?! How could he leave her here all alone with no ability to communicate with the world without having to rely on technology?!

How could he leave her like that?! Why did he leave her?!



Why did he have to die?



The sobs hurt. Oh, how they hurt. But with no vocal cords to utilize, her sobs were silent screams of anguish, only noises coming from her gasping for breath between every choking sob. Her legs gave out from under her and she slid to the base of the rails, clinging to them like a lifeline as she crumbled. Distantly, she noticed that her companion was still standing but sobbing just as hard, leaning on the rail for more support that they had been earlier. That small part of her that noticed was grateful they were too busy with their own anguish to touch her. She didn’t want to be touched, to be comforted like that. Too many had tried comforting her like that when all she wanted was her brother’s arms to wrapped around her one last time, his face in her hair and his comforting voice speaking soothing words.



She hoped her companion wasn’t drowning like she was.






She wished her brother was still alive.


She wished he hadn’t died.




She wished she had died instead.










She had given up on wishing a long time ago.

[ArtisticVicu]

June 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

The email arrived, the one that would state whether or not they would move onto the next step. Excitement thrilled through them as they clicked on it, confident enough in their abilities to have made it to the final step.

The email was not what they had been expecting.

There, in simple text, was the notice that they had not been selected for the final stage in the hiring process. And, just like that, excitement turned numb. They had done so well on the test and, while phone interviews were never their strong suite, they felt they had done well enough to make it. They had been certain that they were making it to the face to face interview but, for the fifth time in a row, this was not the case.

They weren't sure if they wanted to cry out of anger, sadness, or a toxic blend with frustration thrown in there. They had been so sure.

They really needed to quit being so sure, it would seem.

It made the next month all that more difficult. They were barely squeaking by as it was and it was stressful. Never before had their account been so close to over drafting with a steady income and knowing better. It wasn't comfortable to be only a few pennies away from having nothing in a checking account when they had bills, pets, gas, food to buy. It was all a fricken conspiracy, they were certain.

They had put out ten job applications and, what do they get? Nowhere near getting accepted at any of the positions they had applied for. And the sad thing was, they were running out of ideas of what they could even do as work. They felt so limited in what they could apply for.

Oddly enough, though, they still went back online and browsed openings at whatever places came to mind. In the end, they had sent out two applications, confident in only one.

Too stressed to call it a night, they turn their attention elsewhere on the internet.

An hour passes without their notice, eyes glued to a computer screen displaying whatever they maneuvered to. An alert pops up in the lower right corner of their screen, drawing their attention.

someone friend 23:58 : Hey, you got a minute? I think I found something that...

They glanced at the clock, verifying it was indeed approaching midnight. Strange. This particular friend wasn't usually on this late.

They clicked the alert.

They cried out in disbelief as their computer abruptly shut down. Before they could even move to try the power button, the computer turned itself back on.

Near the center of the black screen is a blinking cursor. Seconds pass and when nothing happened, they reach out to type something.

Something beat them to the punch as text was typed out.

external.connectId:GHOSTOFTHEVOID to [91.181.18920.21.1]
mark.3; initiate connection
>ip=15.233.58892.1
>user.interface {false}
>external.displayAlign {
/:22844019
(false_
screen transfer
>external.displayAlignPing
valid
>external.driverAlign {
/:22983019
(false_
driver access
>external.driverAlignPing
Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=32ms TTL=39
Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=32ms TTL=39
Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=39ms TTL=39
Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=32ms TTL=39
Reply from 91.191.18920.21.1: bytes=64 time=36ms TTL=39

connection established

fuction myFunc(est.connect) {
var x, txt = "";
for (x in est.connect) {
txt += est.connect[x].name + "cmd.exe";
}
event("cmd.exe").interface= txt;
}

They frowned, not understanding a good amount of the information. Before they could piece together the flowing text, it vanished, replaced with the blinking cursor once more.

->Hello.

They blinked at the single word, the cursor blinking after the period. They glanced around, not sure what to do. When they looked back, there was more.

->Hello.
->You can type back.

They hesitated only for a moment.

->Hello.
->You can type back.


Who are you? What do you want?<-

->Oh, good. The connect is stable.


You didn't answer my questions.<-

->I'm aware. They are unimportant right now.


No. Answer my questions.<-
Who are you and what do you want?<-
Why have you hacked into my computer<-

->Hack is such a strong word.


Shut it.<-
Answer my questions.<-




NOW!<-

->Just answer the questions, Doc. We don't have time for this.
->Oh, you're on this, too?
->When did you connect to the system?
->I'm the one that organized this little "chat", Doc. Remember?

They stared at their screen as the second person the other end jumped in. This was crazy. There was no way this is real. The conversation between the pair kept going but they didn't care as they quickly cut in after one of the newcomer's lines.

end of the second part.


I'm gonna turn my computer off now.<-

->No!
->You can't!
->Wait!
->Please.
->Hear me out.
->We need your help.
->The Doc believes you can help us.

They blinked at the rapid fire of text. They frowned, reading over a second time and weighing their options.




->Please




They sighed, giving in.



What do you want from me? And who are you guys, anyways?<-


There was a pause and they watched the blinking cursor.

->Thank you.
->Thank you.
->I am a scientist by the name of Diggory Howard. I have a PhD. in quantum physics and mathematics.
->The doc's pretty cool. I'm his assistant, Zel.
->Zelpher has been a tremendous help.
->Oi! Doc!
->No need giving them my full name.
->It's embarrassing.
->Nonsense, Zelpher. It's quite the name and you should be proud of it.

They chuckled softly, reaching forward.



Hey. I don't mean to interrupt but what do you guys want from me?<-

->Aw. Right! That.
->Zelpher?
->We want your help with getting the doc back.

They frowned.



Back from what?<-

->The void.

They massaged the bridge of their nose, feeling suddenly exhausted.



You want me to believe that you're in some sort of void?<-

->Correct.


Is this a joke? You pulling my leg or something?<-

->Not a joke.
->Nor a conspiracy.

They groaned before giving in.



Fine. What do you need me to do?<-
Just so you know, I don't have any skills that'll help you get out of this "void"<-

->Nonsense! You are quite skilled in the area we need you skilled in.

They instantly regretted agreeing in helping.



You do realize I am just a normal person, right?<-
I have an associates in Sculpture, for heaven's sake.<-
I work at Starbucks.<-
Nothing special<-

->Don't worry. You'll be able to help us.
->You'll do just fine.

Somehow, they didn't believe him.
He jerked awake, choking on a sob and a wave of nausea as he shoved himself upright. The room was cold and the bed felt even colder as he struggled to free himself from the confines of the blankets. The room was tiny, even smaller with a roommate in the opposite bed, and he tried to swallow down on the growing nausea.

It didn’t work very well and he found himself panting over the toilet, his entire body shaking. He heard grumbling at the door as he quickly flushed the toilet, reaching for something to wipe his face off with.

There was a dull thudding against the door as his roommate knocked on the door. “Ya alright in there, sweetcheeks?” his roommate ground out, half asleep and irritated.

“Yeah, sorry,” he responded automatically, cleaning himself up. “Must have eaten something bad last night.”

There was silence on the other side of the door and he briefly wondered if his roommate had fallen asleep standing up. Wouldn’t be the first time that-

“Ya sure it ain’t yer dream?” The hesitant question threw him off and he stared at the bathroom door, not sure what to do. “I-ah, I woke up to yer sobbin’.” Embarrassment burned his cheeks as he glared down at the towel in his clenched fists. His roommate wasn’t done yet, it would seem. “For the-er, 18th day in'a row.”

Self loathing washed over him as he glared at the door. “Mind your own business,” he snapped, regretting the words instantly. Oh how he wanted comfort.

“A'right, A'right. Jeez.” His roommate turned away and grumbled, “Was just try'n'a help.”

The anger died rather quickly, leaving him freezing cold. Shivering so much his teeth were chattering, he clenched his jaw and returned to bed.

He couldn’t get warm and apparently him trying to be quiet didn’t work as his roommate grumbled, “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

There was the sound of movement but he kept his face towards the wall till he felt his mattress dip and strong, unfamiliar arms wrapped around him. He gave a squawk and tried to move away but his roommate was far stronger than he was and a furnace at his back. His body automatically relaxed into his roommate to his embarrassment.

“Good,” his roommate seemed to growl. “Now go ta sleep, will ya? I have a early mornin’.”

His roommate was out like a light, leaving him to stress it all even as sleep overtook him.

He woke up gasping. He threw the covers off, stumbling as he scrambled to get out of the bed. He hit the wall on his way to the door and the thud woke his partner.

“Baby?” a groggy call from the bed as he disappeared into the bathroom.

The sound of retching filled the small space.

His entire body was shaking as the last of the dry-heaving subsided. There hadn’t been much in his stomach to begin with and he was grateful his body had stopped trying to expel something that wasn’t there. He leaned against the toilet, his shaking body too exhausted to move much more than that.

Familiar hands gently pulled at his torso.

“Hey, sweetheart, come on. I need you to lean back for me.”

He complied, flinching as the toilet flushed. He opened his eyes, looking up at his partner. Most would not be able to comprehend the concerned look on such a gruff face but he took total and complete comfort in it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on his partner’s shoulder. A warm washcloth passed over his face and he let it, too tired for much else. That and his partner seemed to be a wonderful source of heat to his suddenly frigid body and it was making it hard to even think.

“Sweetheart, are you ok if I move us back to the bed? You’re freezing.”

He hummed an affirmation, unable to nod or even voice that it was ok. Strong arms slipped under him and his partner lifted him with ease. The humiliation would come after he wasn’t feeling so horrible.

The sheets were cold and he moaned in discomfort. He partner was beside him not a moment later, situating them so that they were in the middle of the mattress with the blanket pulled up so high around him that the only thing exposed was his face. He hummed in tired content as his partner’s body heat filled the blankets with delightful warmth. Those same strong arms wrapped around him and he fell asleep engulfed in warmth.

He woke to his partner’s soft touch rousing him. He blinked up at his partner’s gruff face, watching as a soft smile pulled at the lips. “Hey, sweetheart. You feelin’ up to some food?”

he blinked slowly, trying to wake up enough to process that question. When it registered, he nodded. His partner reached down and helped him sit up against the headboard, the blanket still securely wrapped around him. A tray was placed over his lap holding a light breakfast. His partner settled in beside him, a hardier breakfast on their plate.

Breakfast was a quiet endeavor till his partner inquired near the end, “Same dream?”

He froze, spoonful hanging over the bowl. It was telling enough as his partner seemed to deflate a little. “Damn,” his partner ground out, though they were gentle with putting their plate aside. “Sweetheart, you’ve really aught to talk ta someone about it. You’ve been having that dream since we were roommates.”

He lowered his spoon still full back into the bowl. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

The question was soft, curious, and clearly allowing for him to choose whether or not he was going to answer. He answered it because he felt his partner needed to know. “Because I don’t want to talk about what I’ve been dreaming. I don’t want to have to explain to another person what I’ve witness and see the pity in their eyes. I don’t want….I don’t…..”

He swallowed thickly. “I don’t want them to wake my dreams into something worse because of pills or because of their words. They’re already bad enough when they happen.”

“But they’re becomin’ more frequent again, sweetheart,” his partner pointed out. “And this time it ain’t associated with a date or nothin’.”

He rubbed at his face, not wanting to admit that his partner was right. He sighed, leaning sideways till his side was flush with his partner and his head was on the other’s shoulder. A strong arm wrapped around him. “If this continues for a week straight, I’ll go see whoever you want.”

His partner relaxed. kissing his hair. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“They say when you marry in June, you are graced with good luck.” He spluttered, hearing a string of giggles from his soon to be sister-in-law as he fought with the tulle. “I think they were lying.”

“I don’t think they meant prior to the wedding,” she offered, still heavily amused by his inability to get the tulle under wraps. Honestly, he had a fricken theatre degree and had done enough work in the costume department to know how to get tulle to behave. This was just utter fricken chaos and against him at the moment. “I think it’s for the marriage’s longevity.”

He gave her a flat look and she giggled again. He facade broke and he gave her a soft smile. “True, but I wouldn’t sneeze at a little of that luck coming on the wedding day.” He made a face at the tulle again. “Why does this have to be so difficult.”

“We could always just ask our mothers to help.”

“My mom’s too busy helping my brother,” he responded, “and yours is too busy corralling the bridesmaids.”

Again, a string of giggles. He was truly glad she was enjoying herself. The process had been stressful for her and his brother. He was glad that in the midst of all the stress he was being able to offer her a moment to laugh. “Yes but you’re a man and men don’t know how to do this.”

It was a teasing tone, not meant any real damage. He could tell even with his lack of understanding social cues and sarcasm the majority of the time. He beamed at her even as he fired back, “I didn’t take theatre for nothing. Besides, I’ve handmade a good number of costumes since my college years. I can deal with,” he turned a glare on the tulle tornado set before him, “this monstrosity. Should be nothing more than a fricken ballerina skirt and I can’t even find the waistband.” He looked at her and whined, “Why’d you have to get the poofy princess dress with so much tulle? Why couldn’t you have gone with a simpler dress?”

She grinned at him, the mischief in her eyes a clear indicator that she understood he was playing. She met the bait with pride. “Because I am a froofy, froofy princess and I deserve the best, most elaborate dress the kingdom has to offer.”

He broke first, choking on a laugh before she had even said anything. There was a pause as they gauged each other before they both fell into fits of laughter.

“I can’t believe you admitted it!” he gasped between fits of giggles. “Oh man. I wish I had been recording that.”

She raised her head proudly but the grin on her face made her look like an over-excited child. “I’ll gladly say it any time you wish.”

He pointed his finger at her as the door opened behind him. “I am recording it and it is becoming your ringtone.”

“Need a hand in here or are you two having fun in this mess?” a voice inquired behind him.

He turned as his soon-to-be sister-in-law huffed. “You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony. It’s bad luck.”

Standing in the doorway was his youngest brother. Even only half dressed he looked rather dashing in a sort of bad boy from the 1960s way. He tried not to laugh at the thought but a smirk broke out regardless. His brother only winked at him, clearly understanding. “I came by because my mom is driving me up the wall.”

He snorted. “Adrien, Mom fretting over you is nothing compared to Celeste mom fretting over you.”

Adrien shuddered and that gained a set of giggles from Celeste behind him. “Don’t remind me.”

Adrien focused fully on him, concern in his expression. “Are you sure you’re ok playing this part, Skyler? I know you said it was ok even though you’re fully transitioned now but-”

He raised a hand, touched at his little brother’s concern. He offered a soft smile. “I agreed to do this before I had finished transitioning. And I would have still agreed to it even if I hadn’t. Benedict and Alice aren’t here yet and Alice would have been our only other choice outside of family.”

“Someone dissing my girlfriend?”

Skyler chuckled as the middle brother appeared with said girlfriend in hand. Adrien greeted Benedict with a rough hug, Alice slipping away to give Celeste a hug. Skyler let his two younger brothers chat as he focused on the girlfriend and bride’s conversation.

“Congratulations, Celestia,” Alice offered with a smile. “And sorry we weren’t here on time.”

Celeste waved her off. “It’s quite alright. You two had quite the drive and accidents don’t make that drive any easier.”

“Especially when there were three and no way to bail,” Alice agreed.

“Trip wasn’t horrible, though, beyond that?” Skyler interjected, stepping closer to be included.

Alice shook her head. “No. It was quite pleasant, even if your brother stressed about the time.”

Skyler gave a fond smile. “That’s Bendy for ya: The Stresser.”

An arm wrapped itself around Skyler’s shoulders and he was jostled about as his middle brother challenged, “You using that horrible nickname again?”

“Of course!” Skyler shot back, a mischievous grin on his face. “I like associating you with an ink demon from a video game.”

Benedict started a small tussle that Adrien joined in on. Skyler was never any good at tussling with his brothers, even as a girl, but he was getting wiser to his brothers’ tricks and managed to slip out before too much damage could be done. There were rounds of laughter from all of them and even Skyler was breathless from laughing so hard.

“Alright, alright,” Skyler called over the noise. “We’d best get busy. Otherwise we’ll have both mothers breathing down our necks and I don’t think we need to ensue that kind of wrath.”

There was a bout of chuckles and shudders shared about the five of them before Skyler took charge once more. “Adrien, you’d better head back before Mom figures out where you disappeared off to.” Adrien nodded and kissed Celeste’s cheek before dipping out. “Benedict, can you go check on the men? I have no idea what’s going on in there and, honestly, I’ve got my hands full here.”

Benedict nodded and kissed Alice’s hand. “Find me when you’re done.”

Alice nodded and Benedict also left. Skyler turned an apologetic smile to Alice. “Mind helping with the storm of tulle? Celeste, if you want to go ahead and put your slip on, we’ll get this situated so that it can go on first.”

Celeste nodded and slipped behind the dressing screen to change as Skyler and Alice - almost literally - tackled the storm of tulle before them.

“Why did you go with so much tulle?” Alice complained.

Celeste’s string of giggles and Skyler’s bellowing laughs filled the room.

[ArtisticVicu]

July 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

“Independence.”

The single word crackled from the sound system.

“They say it’s something you have to fight to keep.”

A wind rolled through the still city.

“They say it’s something that only the privileged know. They say that the independence we gain when we transition from child to adult is only an imitation of true independence.”

There, on the edge of the shadows, was movement. It was small, barely noticeable unless one was trained to see it. Most were in this world.

“They lied.”

A poster smacked against the wall it had been pinned to. It was old, tattered, and barely legible anymore but the propaganda was still very clear.

It was a call to war.

“We can have independence. We deserve independence.”

The poster pulled itself free of the wall, the wind taking it through the deserted street.

“We WILL have independence.”

The poster floated about, whipped this way and that. It smacked into a pole, a rusting mailbox, the ground.

“And you are the only one that can help us gain such a luxury.”

The poster lost its touch with the wind that had been carrying it about. It came to a stop in the middle of a ragged road. Something dashed at it, tearing it to shreds and ridding the world of another “INDEPENDENCE NEEDS YOU” poster.

A shot rang out through the street and the thing in the middle of the street collapsed. Several other things just like the now dead thing dashed forward and ravaged the carcass. The gunner sneered at the scene, selecting a new target. Silencer on, they took out the new arrivals one by one. Luck would seem to be on the gunner’s side. With each new carcass, two to four more would take its place. With their current hiding spot, there was no concern of running out of ammo any time soon and this honestly killed a few hours while being rather productive at the same time.

“Independence.”

The gunner didn’t even flinch when the speakers crackled to life again. The things down in the street seemed to have learned that the audio was useless as well.

“What is it?”

The gunner took aim as a thing brought its head up, seeming to look directly at the gunner before a bullet was between its eyes and its fellow things were ripping into the now dead carcass.

“If you look up the definition, you will find that independence is freedom from the control, influence, support, aid, or the like, of others.”

The gunner takes out three more before they’re forced to reload. The motion is swift and smooth. There’s little noise as the new magazine is locked into place. Ready to go, they took aim. Four more fell.

“And yet, when you look into the cultural context of independence, the word is used for a variety of situations.”

The gunner tsked, re-situating themself.

“What matters is that independence - while known as a word by most - is not known as a state of being for many.”

The gunner went on shooting things. Not a single bullet was wasted, a blessing of leisure killing. Making their way through the swarm they had inadvertently summoned, the words resounding through the city filled their mind.

“This cannot stand.”

The gunner sighed, taking aim on a new target.

“Things cannot remain this way.”

For a moment, the gunner found themself near the start of the war, just prior to these things being created. A crowd stretched before them, thousands packed into such a small stretch of land. Panic pulled at them, not at all confident before such a sea of faces. Their stumbled over the words, a pause that was not planned but desperately needed. Taking in a shaky breath, they leaned against the podium before them just a bit more and pressed on.

“Independence cannot be won through war. War breeds fear, fear breeds hate, hate breeds vengeance, and vengeance turns the world blind with ‘an eye for an eye’. We cannot obtain independence through war. The greatest way of creating and maintaining independence for all is by creating a culture based out of love and compassion. Curiosity and empathy instead of greed and pride.”

The crowd before them roared. It was hard to tell if they were cheering for them or against them. They hoped it was for them as they continued on. “We will be our own destruction if we keep fighting for independence in this way. Instead, let us change the world in a different way…”

“…in a new way.”

The gunner blinked, finding themself back in the present. They shuddered, grateful the old recording had finally ended. It wasn’t often they got caught up in their own words like that, especially not when the old recordings were being played in almost every city they had gone through. Thankfully, that was the only recording of them. No one had recognize them yet, though the scarring helped. Their voice wasn’t the only one spouting words for peace but it had not been their voices that had been heard. Even the one that had first called for war and had changed their standing halfway through had been ignored. Somehow, someway, war won out in the end and the entire world collapsed.

Another shot off.

“Thought I would find you up here.”

They looked back, expression curious as they flicked the safety of their weapon. The newcomer was young, bright, and in far better condition than they were. The newcomer offered a soft smile. “Come on. Ride’s here.”

They grinned. “Bout time,” they rasped out. They gestured to the boxes of ammo around them. “Help me pack all this.”

The newcomer happily went along with the request, gathering all the boxes and anything else that could be used. They helped the newcomer for a moment before they started getting themself to their feet. They waved off the newcomer, indicating the task the newcomer had. Balance horrible due to a poor prosthetic, they wobbled for a moment before they had re-acclimated to being upright. Taking the newcomer’s arm, they shouldered their weapon and followed the newcomer out of the room littered with shell casings.
The event was in full swing. It was hard not to get swept up in the excitement of the main attraction and it was contagious. Actors and technicians ran around in organized chaos. Or, at least, as close to organized chaos as it all could be. He stared at himself in the mirror, already regretting this and he wasn’t even completely ready yet.

There was movement in the mirror’s reflection, a patch of pale color in the background. His gaze moved to it, focusing and interpreting what he could see reflected back at him.

A stout skeleton stood laughing with a few of the other actors, not the only real monster at this haunted house and clearly at ease talking with the human actors as much as talking with the monster actors. The skeleton glanced over and their eyes met through the mirror. He hadn’t meant to inadvertently end the conversation the skeleton was apart of but said skeleton was already approaching before he had fully registered what his actions had led to.

The skeleton gave him a smile through the mirror, which was odd seeing as the skeleton was always smiling. But he had grown accustom to the slight shifts in the permanent smile that spoke of a frown, a grimace, a fake smile. This one, the one in the mirror now, it was a real one.

He felt ashamed that a kind smile from a friend soothed his frayed nerves so much.

“How are you doing over here, bud?” the skeleton asked without his jaw moving.

He floundered briefly before blurting out, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

His only friend in the entire place laughed - actually laughed! - at him. He would deny later that he pouted at that. The skeleton patted his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry,” he urged, grinning. “But you have to admit that that’s rather ironic.” The skeleton leaned in, offering in a whisper only he heard, “After all, you’re not really playing a part you don’t know.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing at the skeleton. The skeleton chuckled as he hissed, “You know as well as I do that this is not the same thing.” His eyes narrowed, flashing red out of anxiety. “This is not the same and i have no idea how to portray this…this thing!”

The skeleton chuckled again, fond smile marring the unashamed skull. “Ok, ok. Calm down and situate your chair to face me.”

He reigned in his abilities, swallowing hard as he moved the folding chair to face the skeleton. Sitting made them eye level and, while he would tease the stout skeleton about his height, nerves had robbed him of humor. The skeleton’s expression softened when the skeleton looked up from gathering the needed makeup. “Breathe, Alex. You still need oxygen to function.”

That got a chuckle out of him and, finally, he started to really relax as his friend started applying the makeup on his face. With nothing better to watch seeing as most of the action was to his left, Alex watched the skeleton’s face as the bundle of bones worked.

“Close your eyes,” the skeleton softly commanded and Alex complied, feeling the fat makeup brush ghost over his eyelids. “Keep them closed,” came the soft command as the brush disappeared from his skin.

An assortment of makeup tools touched his face, some being used once, others used multiple times. It was rather soothing, in a way, and he found himself being startled when a distal phalanx passed over his lips. Specifically the thumb’s distal phalanx bone.

“Sans?” he breathed shakily against the bone still hovering there.

“Ah, sorry,” came the strained reply. “I used the wrong color of lipstick. I wasn’t paying attention-I should have used a tissue or something-”

Even with his eyes closed and the majority of his abilities useless against monsters, he could still pinpoint where Sans was. More specifically, he could distinguish where the skeleton’s arm was at, reaching across to the table that held the costuming supplies. His hand wrapped around Sans’s wrist, careful of the frail form underneath his touch. “It’s ok, Sans. It just startled me. You usually avoid touching me.”

A tight chuckle came in response. “Yeah. Still, I should have used a tissue. Lipstick stains bone, too.”

There was a heavy silence between them but Alex didn’t move to break it. He didn’t feel there was a need as he carefully released Sans’s arm. He could practically feel the skeleton relax at the lack of contact and that hurt on some level.

A tissue was used in place of bare phalanges to clean up later mistakes.

“Alright, take a look.”

Alex opened his eyes, finding himself first looking at a beaming Sans. He turned, looking at the mirror beside him. There, staring back at him, was a pale figure with wild hair and face splattered with blood. His lips had been painted in a cool color that made him look rather dead. There were a few spots of blood all over his face but the majority of the mess was around his mouth where it looked like blood had raced down his throat from an overflow of blood. It was a rather wicked look and matched the attire he had been given: slightly tattered top and bottoms, no shoes, and all of it splattered in blood in some way. There was even a few hand prints in blood. It was rather inventive and well thought out, really.

He caught Sans’s interested gaze in the mirror and beamed at the shorter skeleton. “You’ll have to show me how to do this tomorrow. It looks great.”

Sans beamed back, though it would seem that the compliment had caught Sans a bit off guard. Embarrassment was at the edge of the grin. “Absolutely.”

“30 minute warning!” was called over the crowd of technicians and actors.

Alex’s head came about, trying to spot who had called off the warning.

“Welp.” Alex turned his attention back to Sans and Sans gave him a smile, asking, “Mind helping me look like I’m filthy?”

Alex snorted, standing. “Like you need help with that.”

There was a playful shove from his friend but Alex felt far lighter and far more optimistic about the evening than he had not even moments ago.
The pod hissed open and he opened his eyes, fully rested but mentally tired. He sat up as the lights in the room illuminated the sparse space.

The automated system went to work. He was up, washed, and dressed, ready for breakfast, in the standard five minutes. He walked the trodden path to the mess hall, his gaze flickering out the windows he passed.The heart of the spacecraft was currently visible but there were glimpses of stars beyond the edges of the structure. By the time he would be making the trek back to his rooms for the evening, he would only be able to see stars and any planets they were passing.

The food in the mess hall was the same rations as they had always been. He took his portion without comment, eating the food heavily doused in vitamins and minerals to keep him functional. The food part of the whole thing was just to keep internal systems working. Apparently just popping pills killed people.

He was done eating by the time his alert came. The system had timed everything perfectly. He stood up, allowing the cleaner bot to take his tray. He watched the bot go even as he headed in the opposite direction. He wondered how long it would be before humans were not needed. Humans were expendable, though, so it made them useful.

He showed up for training. The next six hours were spent in the simulator and sparring against the others in his class. Lunch was the same thing as breakfast. The following six hours were spent working. If someone couldn't work, they were terminated, simple as that. It was a humane way to go from what he had been told. Long ago when they had been planet bound, death was something that was unpredictable and painful. Now it was a fact of life, easily controlled, and welcomed once one was unable to pull their own weight.

He strapped into his space suit, hands automatically running through a checklist long since ingrained into habit. He still focused on the task, still thought through it, but there was no hesitation and it was all completed within the allotted time. Helmet secure, he stepped into the airlock with 19 other people in space suits. The atmosphere was removed from the airlock and the exterior door opened on its own. He followed the group out before heading to his own work.

He was an isolated worker, scraping off particles that had collected on the outer paneling. Someone followed after him, documenting damages to the hull, but they never spoke. The com was always silent.

Until it wasn't.

-All personnel! Return to the nearest airlock! All personnel! Return to the nearest airlock immediately!-

He turned, activating the propulsion units on the bottom of his boots as the propulsion unit on his back roared to life. He followed three other streaks of light into the nearest airlock and the door hissed behind them as the artificial gravity activated. His boots clattered with the floor but he barely reacted.

The atmosphere didn't return as the entire compound shuddered and jerked. Suddenly, the door into the spacecraft snapped open and atmosphere rushed into the airlock, shoving not only himself and the three he had followed, but the other four that had already been there against the opposite wall.

The door leading into space snapped open.

He scrambled for purchase on the wall as his propulsion units roared. He found it and held on tight, unable to look and see if there was anyone he could help. If he let one hand go, he would be sucked away and of no use to anyone.

The artificial gravity seemed to have been cut when the pressure had balanced out finally. He was breathing hard and shaking, but not worse for wear. He pushed himself away from the wall but kept his grip, looking around.

He was the only one alive.

Two others had managed to cling to safety but one had been impaled by something and had clearly died on impact while another suffered due to a rip in their suit. He shuddered and moved to the door.

The stars were spinning around him.

He jerked back and for the first time in a very long time felt true motion sickness. He swallowed down hard on the nausea and turned his back to the door. He made his way in deeper, making it a point not to look out any of the windows.

For whatever reason, the end section he was in had been ripped away from the spacecraft and was now hurtling through space. Each end section had a small shuttle because of the possibility of detachment and danger but the spacecraft never made it anywhere close to action for the shuttles to be utilized often enough for him to feel confident in it still working.

He found it to be completely useless when he managed to find it.

The end section had been expanded. A lot of the spacecraft had been expanded over the cycles so it was no surprise when he found his only hope not only so out dated he didn't know how to even activate the on-board computers, but completely trapped by the chunk of spacecraft encasing it.

His suit's clock read three hours later by the time he figured out the on-board systems. The shuttle's hatch secured shut and atmosphere filled the space. He removed his helmet, grateful for the new air seeing as his suit's life support for air was now reading red. It took him another hour and a half to figure out what was what with the outdated system and by the time he was able to pinpoint his location to the spacecraft, there was nothing he could do. Whatever explosion had happened, it had sent him towards the nearest system. He had four days before he crashed down on a planet.

There was no sign of the spacecraft at its last known coordinates.

It was easy to keep with some semblance of a normal routine for the next four days. The rations on the shuttle were still good, surprisingly, and the water supply was still fresh. He ran the water through the filter system in his suit before consuming it, just in case. He exercised and sparred with his shadow. He kept his mind sharp by figuring out all of the shuttle's inner workings which was a lot harder than he would have thought.

Touching the planet's atmosphere couldn't have come soon enough.

The air was being recycled poorly and he was running out of fresh air. He didn't dare use his suit's reserves till the final, treacherous descent to the planet's surface was happening. Still, he suited up and strapped into the seat he had deduced would be the safest while still being able to access the controls.

The hull metal of the spacecraft started heating up immediately upon entry of the denser atmosphere. It had never been designed for entry into planet atmospheres. The shuttles were.

He secured his helmet and started the airflow in his suit. He closed his eyes, trying to keep himself relaxed as the entire hunk of metal around him jerked and spun, pressing large amounts of Gs against his body. The closer to the planet the mass of metal got, the more intense the g-force became.

There was a loud bang and his eyes snapped open.

He was blinded for the moment it took for his helmet to compensate for the sudden light. He snapped forward. Somehow the shuttle had not only been upside down and backwards, trying to get the darn thing to face the right way had been a fun endeavor. Still, after a couple of tries and nearly wrecking the craft in the process, he had the shuttle's trajectory fixed and his descent significantly slowed. The shuttle took command well, automatically correcting as old systems caught up with the situation and his descent eased into flight as the shuttle entered the lowest level of atmosphere.

That was the end of his good luck.

The shuttle's systems crashed and what had started out as a nice flight over the distant lands turned into a nose dive. He did what he could but a majority of the system was run electronically, meaning no matter how hard he yanked at the control joist, very little would respond.

He woke with a groggy start.

There was a sense of urgency driving him awake but his body was slow to react. He felt oddly lightweight but every part of his body ached. His suit was blaring at him, trying to get his attention. Even as he took in the low air warning flashing across the inside of his helmet, he couldn't get himself awake any faster.

He looked around, finding an odd substance within the shuttle. A creature moved through it, seeming not to notice him still strapped in his seat. He unlatched the restrains and found himself drifting through the substance as if he was in zero g. And yet he was slowly floating towards his left. He utilized this odd direction to make it to the side hatch and open it. Air bubbles rushed passed him, floating in the direction his head was pointed, and he chose to make that direction up. He followed those bubbles, followed them till his air was becoming hard to breathe and the liquid around him was turning bright blue with an odd transparency.

Breaking the surface of the odd substance startled him. He bobbed back under before coming back to the surface and floating there. He quickly unlatched his helmet, kicking at the substance to try and keep at the surface now that he had no air supply. A mouthful of the substance told him it was water.

He didn't understand. He wasn't sure he could understand. Logically he knew that he must be planet side and some planets had breathable air with water and life on its surface but having never seen or experienced it before was overwhelming.

He was drowning.

The suit grew too heavy when it filled with water and his limbs had long since become numb from the frigged temperatures. Not to mention he was already having a hard enough time staying afloat without attempting to get free of the suit as well.

He slipped beneath the surface and couldn't get above it again.

He came to feeling warm and heavy. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling sore in places he never thought could be sore. He focused on a dimly lit brown roof, the shadows dancing as the sound of crackling was heard off to his left. He could distinguish that there was something soft weighing him down but what it was specifically, he wasn't sure. Movement to his left drew his attention and he found himself looking up at the strangest girl he had ever seen. At least, he thought it was a girl. Only girls were permitted to have hair long enough to tie back.This girl before him had skin a brown similar to the roof he could barely make out and weird blemishes here and there not only on their face and neck, but on their arms as well. He frowned, asking hoarsely, "Where am I?"

"O bene! Expergiscimini tu es. Nos anxius sunt tui te non morieris in somno."
(Oh good! You're awake. We were worried you would die in your sleep.)

He frowned, the sounds wrong in his ears. He grew anxious. "What?"

The stranger's expression turned soft, cautious, but no less kind.

"Non mirum non intelligis. Invenimus tua navis in fundo lacus Asphar. Miserabile, non habent aliquid ad eam reficiendam usus est ut vos erant 'adhæsit hic genus."
(Not a surprise you don't understand me. We found your ship at the bottom of the lake. Sadly, we don't have anything to repair it with so you're kind of stuck here.)

He shook his head, moving away from the stranger. The stranger's expression fell. "Where am I? Why can't I understand you?"

The stranger raised their hand between them, a gesture he didn't really understand.

"Securus. Nemo suus 'iens est nocere tibi."
(Easy. No one's going to hurt you.)

He was shaking as he pushed himself up against the wall behind him. It was soft and everything was wrong and the world was now spinning and...and-

The stranger's hand was firm on the back of his, pushing his head down. The awkward movement forced his head between his knees. He struggled, tried to get out of the hold, but the stranger was far stronger than he was and had better leverage. The odd thing, though, was that they had simply stilled beside him, making it so he couldn't raise his head but nothing more. He could hear them breathing in slow breaths. In slow, hold, out slow, hold. He found himself matching his breathing to theirs and the anxiety clawing at him was replaced with exhaustion.

He wasn't sure why the stranger moved away when they did, but he was grateful when they helped him to lay down from the awkward position. He fell asleep as their odd language washed over him.

"Me paenitet. Placere requiem bene. Nos te experiri et instar aliqualiter communicate mane."
(I'm sorry. Please rest well. We'll try and figure some way to communicate in the morning.)

When he woke again, he was alone and on his side. He had a clear view of the space he was in, meaning he had a clear view of the thing that was crackling. It was the same thing creating odd light for the space and he frowned. He didn't recognize it, not at first. It wasn't till the same stranger moved to the light, caught the light on a stick, and used the now lit stick to light several hanging objects about the room did he figure out what it was.

Fire.

Did these people - they had to be people - not have technology or were they just utilizing it for amusement? The stranger from before lit the last of the hanging lights and put the stick out, turning to him.

"Adhuc non intelligere me, ius?"
(Still don't understand me, right?)

He blinked at the stranger. Said stranger sighed and grabbed a chair. Sitting beside his bed, the stranger pointed at themself. "Vesper," they spoke clearly.

"Meum nomen. Vesper. Nomen. Vesper."
(My name. Vesper. Name. Vesper.)

The stranger gestured to him. "Nomen?"

Was the stranger...asking his name?

The stranger gestured back at their self. "Nomen. Vesper."

He reached out, pointing at the stranger's face, rather than the stranger's chest. "Vesper," he repeated cautiously. "Your name. You are Vesper. Name. Vesper."

The stranger seemed to understand a bit faster than he currently was able to because they nodded, pleased. "Nomen. Vesper."

"Name. Vesper," he repeated once more.

The stranger nodded, and then pointed at his face. "Nomen."

"Name." He moved his gaze from the finger in his face to the face of the stranger. "Solas." He pointed at his own chest. "Name. Nomen. Solas."

"Solas," Vesper repeated, smiling softly. Vesper then pressed their hand flat against their chest. "Vesper." They pressed their hand flat against his chest. "Solas."

Solas covered Vesper's hand. "Yes." He looked up, pressing his own palm into Vesper's chest. "Vesper." He pressed harder against the hand pinned to his own chest. "Solas."

Vesper nodded, removing his hand from Solas and himself from touch.

"Nomina. Bonum. Quod suus 'satus. Postea operari possumus in verbis propriis. Avia sicut et beatus eris quia nomen tuum est."
(Names. Good. That's a start. We can work on proper language later. Avia will just be happy to know your name.)

Solas settled back, watching Vesper mill about.

From there, life for Solas became a blur of activity. Learning the odd language was not easy but Vesper was there to help him right along. It was rather nice that Vesper was more than willing to learn Solas's language as well. At first Solas was confined to the room, then the structure, then the grounds. The structure he was in was isolated and housed only Vesper, Solas, and an old woman that Vesper simply called Avia. There were visitors and, while there were clearly signs of technology, nothing was like what he had back in space. Not to mention that the tech was also notably different. Different cultures had created different needs and the technology went with the needs required. Information and the distribution of information seemed key but there was no hurry to expand quickly. While long distance travel was taken care of by strange shuttles, a number of people still traveled by creature power, Vesper and Avia included. Solas found the work with the animals on the property to be even more exhausting than what he had done on the spacecraft.

By the time Solas had grasped the language six months later, he had been living with Vesper and their family in the main town for four months. Avia - which he had come to learn meant grandmother - had remained at her isolated home. It had been a culture shock to know such an old woman would die at any time and there was nothing anyone could do. The fact that the old woman was even still useful astounded Solas to no end.

Finally, after months of keeping such thoughts to himself, he told Vesper.

They chuckled. "You've never truly lived, have you? Even after all these months."

Solas pushed at Vesper's shoulder and the other went with the motion, cackling. "I understand plenty. I just can't figure out why Avia is still able to be of use. She seems more of a hindrance than anything."

It was rather telling how much Vesper understood Solas and his - in Vesper's words - "backwards way of growing up" when they didn't take offence to the statement. Vesper shrugged. "Doesn't answer my question." Vesper looked to the west before looking back at Solas. "Come over here."

Solas dutifully followed his friend through the small town. By the time they reached a hill to the east of the village, the sun was setting. Vesper plopped down in the grass, patting the spot next to him. "Take a seat."

Solas settled beside Vesper. Vesper looked out to the horizon, expression content and body relaxed. When Vesper offered no words, Solas mimicked them.

At first, he didn't understand and quickly grew bored. He knew of sunsets. He had viewed them many times still impressed by their beauty. But as time wore on, he found himself simply exhausted and unable to keep himself propped up anymore. He laid back in the grass, gaze going to the first stars appearing.

"You know you don't have to work every day, do something every day," Vesper voiced.

Solas shrugged. "I'm too used to being of use."

"But you're killing yourself."

Solas flinched.

Vesper's hand was gentle against his arm but he couldn't look at his friend. He could feel Vesper's gaze on him but couldn't meet it. "Solas. I know you're afraid. I know you wish you were back home where death was a thing that was known and had a specific time of when it was coming, but you're not there. You're here. And here means that death comes to us when it does. Sometimes it comes when we're barely even born. Sometimes it waits till we've seen three generations surpass us like Avia. And sometimes it comes due to illness and things we have no control over." Vesper's grip tightened. "You're practically being crushed by this planet's gravity. It's rather impressive you haven't been crushed sooner but I can tell it's slowly and surely taking its toll on you. I see it in the morning when you can't seem to gather the strength to get out of bed. I see it when you take a break from working and sag against the wall or in the chair supporting you. I see it when you try to lift the same weight you could easily lift all those months ago and strain against it. I see it when you sink into the water and finally relax, simply floating where it seems there is no gravity."

Vesper leaned over him so that Solas had no choice but to meet Vesper's kind gaze. "I see it when you flinch at the topic of death."

"I don't want to die," Solas choked out.

Vesper smiled sadly as a sob wrenched itself from Solas's chest. "I know, Sol.I know."

Vesper placed their forehead against his as he laid there crying. "None of us do."

Solas reached up and wrapped his arms tightly around Vesper, finally facing the fear that had been drowning him as much as the planet's gravity. Vesper pressed their face into his hair. "I've got you." Vesper's grip tightened as they repeated, "I've got you."

Solas prayed for a painless death, a quick one, with no loose strings remaining.

[ArtisticVicu]

August 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

“What’s that?”

He looked up, his hand clasping around the strip of metal he was certain had caught the dwarf’s attention though he wasn’t worried of the dwarf stealing it. Well, not this one. He already knew that the one with the odd, almost star like hair style had already helped himself to a few of his things.

“A sfyríchtra tou desmoú drákon, or a bonded dragon whistle in the common tongue,” he answered, pulling the leather cord from around his neck. He handed over the slim tube of metal to the curious dwarf beside him. “It’s useless so there’s no worry of bringing a dragon here.”

“How?”

He looked over his shoulder at the gruff dwarf with a dark mane of hair. Though no more attire than those he was with, it was clear that this dwarf was the one in charge even if they hadn’t already shared introductions. “Well, for two reasons. The first - and probably the most important - is that the dragon this whistle is bound to is no longer living, or so I was told. Bound whistles don’t generally get bound to a new dragon. Instead they are normally melted down and recrafted and not always back into a whistle. Additionally, whistles are not generally passed on to a new bearer without the dragon’s permission. While a dragon can be controlled by the whistle, the dragon has final say of who controls them.” He nodded at the whistle that the younger dwarf was inspecting. “That one’s dragon is long since gone and was given to me by someone who had received it from the true bearer of the whistle as a trinket to remember home by. I wouldn’t use it even if the thing worked. Case in point,” he reached over and revealed the large crack that ran the length of the whistle, effectively making it nothing more than a trinket, “the second reason why it’s useless is the damage that it had when I received it. Even if I wanted to bind another dragon to it, I wouldn’t be able to. But I digress. Blowing on that and taking the chance that the bound dragon still lives would surely bring me death. The dragon was not able to say whether or not I could be the handler of this whistle and thus has all right to melt the whistle and me on sight. Additionally, calling an unbound dragon to bind with the whistle is a ritual I do not know fully and would most likely fail at the cost of my life, your lives, and anything within a rather large radius.”

He accepted the return of his whistle and hung it back around his neck before focusing back on the gruff dwarf. “He was not lying when he said that I could help. I am not a dragon tamer but I know enough to keep your Master Burglar safe. Well, as safe as one can be with a fire breathing lizard in a cavern system.”

“How do you have that?” growled the very large dragon. He wanted to whimper and cry but it would do nothing to get him and the halfling out of there alive. Instead, he stood his ground between the massive beast not breathing fire quite yet because questions needed answers and he was the only one with the answers the dragon wanted. “It should have remained with Fengari. Not get passed around when he-”

The great beast reared back, lips curling in a snarl, but he was stepping forward, hand firmly clasped around the cracked metal tube. “Fengari believed you to still be alive,” he called out, suddenly understanding the odd riddle that had been spoken to him when he had received the whistle. “He gave it to Nychta, who gave it to me before I left our home. Fengari had believed you still lived and thought passing it on would bring it to you to do with what you pleased.” He closed his eyes, his heart heavy with the following words. “I think he wished that you had something to remember him by, even if he could not give it to you in person.”

The great fire drake stilled, focusing on him. He kept from fleeing on instinct. The halfling was still clinging to his leg, grounding him in the reality of the situation. One misstep and he and the halfling would be burned to crisps. “Fengari is dead?”

There was no need for future sight to know that this had just turned for the worst. As much as the dragon boasted of his strong hide, a bond between dragon and whistler was that of family and death of either hurt the one left behind. He forced the words beyond his lips and was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “I am the second generation to hold the whistle. Fengari passed two generations before I was born.”

If dragons could lose color like most mortals did, he was sure the one before him would look like death. The stillness was suddenly broken by a grieving dragon roaring in agony, dragonfire unleashed in their direction. He dropped to the ground, dragging the halfling with him, but he slipped off their ledge and into the gold beneath it. The dragonfire had missed the gold he fell in but somehow his motion to avoid it had gotten the whistle caught in the blast. It bounced hot against his chest, scorching through his attire and burning the skin beneath it. He yanked it off, leaving a nasty red mark across his palm from where the hot metal had touched his bare skin and he released it as soon as it was clear of his chest, the leather tie long since burned away. It fell into the gold, melting coins. The pile he was on shifted as the dragon stirred the coins. He grabbed at the ledge the halfling was still on and shouted, “Get to the company! Tell them! Warn them! I have to get my whistle!”

“But-!” the halfling tried but he cut him off.

“Go! I’m right behind you!”

He found the whistle out of sheer luck. It had been hot enough to melt gold but not lose its shape. He didn’t have time to ponder that as he scraped off what he could and scrambled to the nearest exit. The dragon was outside, threatening the lives of more than those on the mountainside and he had to do something. The air outside was sharp against his face but he barely noticed as he brought the still hot whistle to his lips and blew.

He stared at his wrapped hands, lost in some other space in his head where thought wasn’t really a thing. Things entered him mind only to slip out and it wasn’t till someone was actually shaking his shoulder and dragging his attention to them that his mind started retaining thoughts and information.

Relief crossed the face of the dwarf before him. It was one of the eldest of the company, the gruff one’s adviser or something like that. “All right there, lad?”

He nodded. He received a rough pat to the shoulder. “Good. The royals are awake and wanted to speak with you. Do you feel up to company?”

He frowned. “Aren’t they in worse condition than I?”

The dwarf chuckled. “Well, yes, but it would seem saving a Prince’s life has earned you a special place in that odd family right along with our Master Burglar, whom of which has been between your room and theirs so often, I think he created a trench in the floor.”

Amusement pulled at his lips. “Hey, at least that’s easier to repair than damage done by a grieving dragon.”

He received another rough pat to the shoulder. This time he couldn’t suppress the wince as it jarred the massive side wound he had sustained protecting previously mentioned Prince. The dwarf’s expression softened and the touch to his leg was much gentler. “New beginnings are always welcomed in this dwarven kingdom if our current king has anything to say on it.”

He actually chuckled at that. “As long as I can make amends for my new charge, I think we’ll be good.”

Two dwarves that he knew rather well joined them and with the help of all three, he was up on his feet and walking the hall to what had been dubbed as the royal confines by the others. It wasn’t hard to see why as he found three dwarfs tucked into three separate beds in the rather large space with an elderly dwarf and a small halfling rushing about aiding the elven healers. At least two of the elven healers were aghast to see him moving about but the dwarven king, the princes, and even the dwarf and halfling’s spoken relief at seeing him alive seemed to ease the elven healers’ initial response.

“I have your whistle!” the prince he had saved called out, waving the shiny tube about over his head.

A kind smile pulled his lips and he crossed to sit in the chair beside the bed. He couldn’t completely hide his wince as he sat down. “And why, pray tell, do you have my whistle?”

The dwarf didn’t even look remotely sheepish. “I was bored out of my mind so I asked someone to snatch it from your person so that I could restore it for you.”

He blinked at the whistle resting the dwarf’s palm. What had once been a silver, cracked tube of metal was now a blend of gold and metal that seems to have been varnished blue. It was the oddest thing till the prince spoke up. “The dragonfire heat treated that metal of yours. It’s not unheard of for some oars to do something similar with high enough heats but I’ve never seen that color before, let alone something not simply melting when touched by dragonfire. The gold filled in all the flaws. I just made it look nice.”

The dwarf had done more than just that and he could tell. Etched into the metal were all sorts of designs and images, things that he recognized even if just barely. But he did have a good enough eye that he commented, “More than one hand etched something into the metal.” He looked up at the prince, gaining a sheepish grin from a flustered dwarf before he looked at the other two bedridden dwarven royals. Sure enough, the younger prince was beaming even more than his brother was as the king’s ears had turned red as he tried to maintain his gruffness. There was a bit of the dwarf under the king’s facade showing, though, and he smiled. “Thank you. All of you. I’ll do my best to make such a gift worth receiving.”

“It is a gift,” the king spoke out and he could see the confusion behind the sharp words. “There is nothing to repay.”

He stood. “I heartily disagree. The dragon bound to this whistle you have so magnificently restored for me while bedridden yourself has caused a massive amount of damage to your home and land and it is my responsibility to make amends.” Several shouts when up but he heard none of the words. He shook his head and regretted the action as the world moved without him. He gripped the chair to keep from falling. “I will help with the repairs to your home and write to the dwarrows of my land to see if any clans would be willing to make the long journey to bring you aid in craft and strong forms.”

There was something in all the expressions around him that he did not understand, something that seemed to have touched all of them in a way he had been left out of. Pity, he didn’t know how to properly counter such a reaction not knowing what it was.

He was too tired to really care about that anyways.

“I will make sure there is a solid connection between our kingdoms so that you are never without aid,” he continued. “It’ll take time but the dragon bond I now have will help tremendously. I will see about making sure that what aid I can provide from my own homeland is here within the year.”

The dwarven king dipped his head. He heard the thank you loud and clear and offered the dwarf a nod in return.
She drifted through the twilight, the tails of her hood fluttering about her head in the soft wind. The cowl hid her eyes from the sharpest of the sun’s setting rays and she watched as the rays slowly died between the skyscrapers and among the leaves of the trees. From this height, she could see the shadow that was night chasing the setting sun. A line of darkness swallowing everything in its path as the planet rotated under her.

But, unlike previous nights, this one was bustling. Children were out on the streets with their parents. Even from this height she could practically hear the excited chattering, the emotions from down below wafting up to her, washing over her like a soothing balm. While many had long since forgotten what this night had really been about at the height of its creation, there were still enough that followed the old beliefs that she had no worries of the reason for this night disappearing. Even if the holiday became nothing more than an excuse for the mortals to dress up and get a ton of candy, she had plenty of work to do during the normal year that it was irrelevant to her. Besides, the wayward souls appreciated her greatly for her guidance.

She was just extremely lucky that not all souls that became separate from their bodies were wayward. Otherwise she would be drowning in souls every second of her life.

She wasn’t a Reaper, after all. Those guys had a whole other task compared to her.

She, in turn, was there to help them. Sometimes a soul slipped by. Sometimes they couldn’t take the soul. For whatever reason the soul was left behind, she picked up the slack. That was her job as the Guardian of All-Hallow’s Eve after all, though there was more to it than simply helping the wandering souls when the veil became too thin for the Reapers to keep control.

Speaking of which…

Darkness that had nothing to do with night slithered through the city beneath her, drawing her attention. She dropped from her spot in the sky, already collecting her magic in the form of a scythe.

The number of weapon designs she had gone through the past years she’d been Guardian was ridiculous but her favorite in the current time was the scythe. A long pole with a blade that was nearly two third’s the length. It had a nice weight to it, allowing her to let the weapon do it’s job with little effort. Besides, the things she was going up against weren’t that intelligent. Especially when she caught them by surprise.

Her scythe sliced through the air, catching all three apparitions in one stroke. There was a brief moment before their conjured forms swirled together, creating three round masses of ghostly essence. She unhooked the lantern on her hip and unlatched one of the panels. It swung open and the little floating balls were carefully swept into it. The candle within flickered but didn’t go out and the apparitions already in there barely seemed to notice the jostling, though those already captured did welcome the newcomers, allowing the newcomers to go from the blackish, purple grey they had been to the gentle cream like color of those within the lantern. This also meant that the apparitions new forms shrank and became about the size of marbles. She smiled, latching the lantern shut and hooking it back on her hip. It was nice that they all seemed to shrink when she caught them in the lantern like that. Made it easier for her to gather more before she had to empty the lantern.

Her smile fell.

These apparitions were a different kind of wayward spirit; the bad kind. Usually they were souls too heavily corrupted in some form or sent to maintain their true essence and form. More and more were appearing nowadays and, sadly, the number that were children was increasing as well. It broke her heart that the world she had long since left was changing so.

A flicker of golden light caught her attention.

It wasn’t something mortals could reproduce. It was something she had long since come very accustom to looking for and knew innately the difference between it and a mimic.

This particular golden light was that of a child.

The hardest to aid were the children.

While she enjoyed seeing them brighten once they were being led home, it was always hard to know that such young souls had agreed to such a short life here. And the fact that these young souls were leaving souls that deemed the child unfit to leave was hard as well. But the number of souls that were leaving due to neglect or abuse was increasing. The dimmer the light, the more troubled the soul. If corrupted, the soul will not retain its human form.

This one was a lucky one.

She wondered why there wasn’t a Reaper for this child as she pushed her hood back.

“Hello little one,” she offered, her voice filling the air. The child looked to her and she realized the answer to her question. The veil had thinned. This was the type of wayward spirit that was her responsibility. Glancing over the soul’s form clearly noted no ties to any place on this world, though, no strings leading the soul to where it was needed. It had simply crossed over in curiosity and was now in need of some guidance. She smiled softly and offered her hand.

When the little hand filled hers, she drifted back towards the stars, reciting, “Take me by the hand and lead me home. Let there be no darkness between here and there. For guiding me on this very night be the Guardian with the Sight.”

Several other souls began to follow as well. Unknown by the mortals, her voice was allowed to carry through the area. The words were like a spell of sorts, or a lullaby. But, mostly, she repeated it because it allowed her to remain calm, separate, and her mind on the task at hand. For those that recognized the old words, it was a greeting. For those that didn’t, it was an explanation. A vague one, but one that worked well enough.

The higher she rose, the more souls followed. The lantern on her hip glowed brightly and she removed it from her belt only to clip it to her scythe. It shone brighter there and acted a s a beacon. More souls followed.

Once they reached a point where looking back only revealed the pinpricks of lights that marked cities rather than individual light sources, the souls were surpassing her. While the veil may be thinnest on the planet, the openings to the other sides were not always there. The easiest one to guide souls to was the one highest above the planet. Mostly because it kept any attacks from becoming ambushes.

She really hated those nights.

Additionally, it left those opening clear for the Reapers should they need them.

A child soul ran passed her, laughing as it raced after other children souls. She smiled softly, watching as each soul vanished. As the last of the souls were vanishing, she unlatched the lantern and let the souls within out. They dashed out, going this way and that, but all of them eventually disappeared. With a heavy sigh, she turned and dived towards the surface.

Her night had only just begun.
Rachel shifted till her back was against the wall, her body facing him and a thoughtful expression on her face. “Well, one way or another, you’re going to have to talk with Severus and Tom. They are not going to let you stay indefinitely without your aunt and uncle’s permission, especially with Severus being one of your professors. It would be improper.”

Harry shook his head. “Rachel. It was bad tonight. I don’t care how improper it is, I can’t go back. Uncle Vernon threatened to actually follow through with the threats he’s been spewing for years. I’m just lucky he was more drunk than sober today.”

Rachel’s expression darkened. “Harry, did he get his hands on you before you left?”

Harry frowned at her, not trusting where that thought was going at all. “Why?”

“Harry, if you have marks proving abuse, it’ll be easier to get you out.”

Harry glared at her, defensive and betrayed as he leapt to his feet. “I’m not telling anyone about this.”

“You have to,” Rachel countered, though she remained sitting. For some reason, her lack of reaction infuriated him even more. “Otherwise Severus will only send you back home when yer time’s up.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll just not go home.”

Rachel glanced out the window but Harry couldn’t see what had briefly caught her attention. “You won’t have the choice.” She focused back on him. “You live too far away. Severus or Tom will end up driving you home. It’ll be dark by the time Severus says you have to go. He won’t even give you the chance to walk.”

“I’m not telling them.”

Rachel shrugged as she stood. “Whether you want to or not is all up to you, Harry.” She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher as she stepped passed. “But they will most likely confront you about it before you leave, regardless of how careful you are. Both of them were abused as kids. They know the signs.”

Harry watched her go, feeling lost. He clenched at his shirt, fighting the panic attack coming on. He knew better than to come here. He knew better than to involve anyone else. He should have just found a bridge to live under or figured out how to leave the city and find work in some small town out in the middle of nowhere and disappear into the world.

The panic attack took over without his bidding.

When he finally started to drag himself out of it, he registered the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore. He blinked, unable to see clearly who was beside him but the voice was calm and it made for a good anchor, especially when he realized the voice was talking him out of the panic.

From one instance to the next, the world was clear around him though the panic was still there. Harry found himself looking at none other than Tom Riddle, some bigwig in the government with a shady rumor about being a mob boss that Harry knew all too well was very true. This man had been after his family for years - after him for years - and now Tom was helping him out of a panic attack. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that he was hallucinating. He had heard from others that the Dark Order was changing its ways due to the boss having had a change of heart. It would seem that he was going to see that change personally. Harry just hoped no Death Eaters joined them for dinner. He had enough working with mobs from having to deal with the Light Order. Honestly, the Phoenixes weren’t as scary as the Death Eaters were but they certainly were just as annoying at times.

“You alright, now?”

Harry focused fully on Tom. It would seem his mind had wandered a bit. Giving a curt nod, he watched as Tom seemed to relax, leaning back to give him space. Harry relaxed though he kept an eye on Tom as Rachel came forward, kneeling before him. She refrained from touching him and he smiled at her, appreciating the lack of touching at the moment. Seems she remembered what had happened last time she had touched him so soon after a panic attack.

“I didn’t mean to cause that,” she offered in apology.

Harry briefly noted the two adults frowning before he turned his full attention her. “You didn’t. It’s just been a long day.”

“That it has,” Severus’s voice spoke out, drawing all eyes to the dark haired man. “Dinner’s ready if we’re all hungry.”

“Starving,” Tom commented, standing. “What have you made for this fine meal?”

Harry couldn’t help but watch in awe as Severus’s features softened as he looked at Tom. “Chicken Cordon Bleu with couscous, an assorted salad, and mashed potatoes.”

Harry was instantly salivating and he whole-heartedly agreed with Rachel’s moan and soft muttering of “mashed potatoes and couscous”. Though, for him, it all sounded quite enticing. He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling like he was intruding.

No one seemed to notice Harry’s sudden change in demeanor as Tom smiled at Rachel. “I agree.” He focused back on Severus. “It all sounds wonderful. It about done, then?”

Severus nodded. “We have about five more minutes before the chicken is done but I don’t see why we couldn’t start now.”

Tom nodded in return, briefly touching the other’s arm. “Good. Then let’s get started.”

Harry fell into step beside Rachel, asking in a low voice, “Ray, I aught to leave now.”

She gave him a bewildered look but kept her voice down for his sake. “Why? Severus made enough for all of us.”

He blinked at her and she offered him a soft smile. “Dinner was actually set to be ready early. You showing up meant that he had to make some more of everything so that made it so that Tom came home to a hot meal, rather than a lukewarm one.”

He started at her. “How…”

She beamed at him. “Seeing is deceiving, Harry.” Her expression turned rather serious. “You should know that better than anyone, really, and that means you should know by now I am far more perceptive than I look. That and I’ve known you long enough to know how your brain works.” She brushed her fingers over his arm and he was able to not flinch from the touch. “You are not a hindrance. Severus loves a good excuse to show off his cooking skills to my friends.”

Harry offered her a soft smile, touched. “I’m glad I could help.”

She beamed at him as they entered the dining room. Four places were set, two seats on each of the long edges of the table. Tom and Rachel moved towards a given seat while Severus went to the kitchen. Harry came to a stop within the entryway, not sure what to do.

“Come join us, Mr. Potter,” Tom spoke, his voice encouraging and his expression joyous. “No need to stand there like a coat rack.”

Harry glanced into the kitchen. “Won’t he need help?” Harry asked, approaching the seat beside Rachel. She had plopped down across from Tom and there was no way he was sitting next to the man.

“Don’t worry!” Rachel chimed, uncovering a bowl to reveal rolls. “He’d shoo you away as soon as you appeared to help.”

“I’m less likely to lose a dish that way,” came a reply from the kitchen. Harry turned to see Severus entering with a large dishes in either hand. He arched an eyebrow at Rachel munching on a roll. “I see the bread has been discovered by the mouse.”

“Merely leading by example,” Tom seemed to approve, snagging a roll for himself and tearing a chunk off. Harry watched as the man bit into said chunk, not sure if he was permitted to follow suit as he glanced at a beaming Rachel.

Severus rolled his eyes with a sigh, but Harry couldn’t tell if the amusement was a trick of the light or not. “Fair enough. Just leave room for the chicken.”

Severus returned to the kitchen as Tom grabbed one of the large dishes and started serving himself and the empty plate beside him. Rachel nudged Harry with her elbow and Harry jumped, startled by the touch and accidentally banging his knee against the table. Thankfully, it didn’t do more than make a solid thud but Harry still turned bright red because of it. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking to Rachel. “What’s up?”

She had an expression on her face that shifted too quickly for him to decipher. She gestured at the remaining large dish. “Pass the couscous?”

Harry reached out and picked up the bowl, handing it off. There was quite the helping of both couscous and mashed potatoes, not to mention the amount of rolls. While he knew forms could be deceiving - Ron was a black hole if ever there was one - none of the people present in the home appeared capable of eating all the food present, not even between the three of them. This put Harry at ease a bit, allowing him to take the couscous from Rachel and serve himself from it.

He kept it small, both due to not having eaten well the last few days and not wanting to overdo it as well as due to not wanting to take too much that another went without.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. That and the food looked excellent.

“So, Mr. Potter. How’s your home life?”

Harry flinched. So much for a good night.

[ArtisticVicu]

September 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

The sound of laughter and pleasant conversation filled the afternoon air. The grasses swayed in the gentle spring breeze as the leaves of the surrounding trees danced. The gathering was in full swing even as the sun started to descend on the western horizon. It mattered not, though, for those gathered had begun preparing for such a thing. Lights were being strung, candles lit, and lanterns hung. Fires were prepared for though none lit. The chill of the night had yet to arrive and the sun still provided plenty of light. Still, there was an endless stream of food and an endless stream of hungry guests. Such things would last till the wee hours of the morning when those invited either gave in to getting the children to bed or giving into the fact that work came when the sun rose the following morning, regardless how late one stayed up.

To be perfectly honest, he didn’t want to miss a moment of it, but here he was on the outskirts of the party looking on. The person climbing to the top of the hill he sat upon under an old tree was far more important than any even he was missing out on, anyways.

The figure offered a gentle smile when they crested the top of the hill, looking as if the climb had been nothing more than a pleasant walk. He envied them that. He had been winded not even halfway up and he wasn’t all that old quite yet.

Ok, that wasn’t true, but he still shouldn’t be quite so tired all the time. It was infuriating.

“Enjoying the view?” his visitor asked, settling beside him beneath the large tree.

“Quite,” he offered, smiling as he brought his pipe to his lips. “I must say that I look forward to the sun setting. The decorating lights will be a splendid sight to see from here.”

The figure hummed in agreeance and silence settled between them. It was light, at ease, as the pair watched the party below.

“Why are you not with them?” his visitor asked, their voice holding nothing more than curiosity.

He took a deep pull from his pipe before letting out the breath of smoke as slowly as he could manage. “I would love to but the trek just to get up here has worn me out so.”

The figure chuckled. “I can imagine.” They looked his way but he vehemently ignored them. Their soft smile grew out of the corner of his eye and he fought the urge to smile himself. “You certainly have gotten on in age despite the adventures you’ve been on.”

“One adventure,” he corrected, though the smile slipped free. “One long, grand adventure.”

The figure beside him gave a soft laugh but said nothing more on the subject. Together they watched the party crowd ebb and flow, watched as guests came and went and came again. It was strangely like watching a colony of ants, he decided after a while. Though, that may be due to the fact that so many of those coming and going used the roads rather than go willy nilly through the fields like a few of the children were currently doing.

“They look like honeybees,” his companion commented, tapping a finger against their leg. “Most in the hive making light of the day while other come and go to collect the food.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Rather than be offended as he would expect from most, his companion simply watched, waiting to hear what was so funny. Eventually, he calmed down and was able to breathe properly again. “It is rather funny,” he started, “how you went to honeybees and my mind went to ants.”

The figure beside him blinked before chuckling. They looked back out on the party, voicing, “They certainly do look like ants from here, don’t they? May have something to do with your small stature.”

He scoffed, though there was no animosity. All in good fun and he knew for certain that his companion was only teasing while also pointing out a known fact by all of the lands. “Yes,” he agreed, bringing his pipe back to his lips, “we are quite small.”

His good mood diminished some as his mind wandered and, before he knew it, the lanterns were being lit proper and the fires were blazing. He let his head tip back. Sure enough, the sun had set behind him for there were numerous stars visible in the sky above his head.

“What had you so enraptured?” his companion asked, their voice low and gentle on the night breeze. “Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Nothing bad,” he assured. “Simply old memories.”

“Good ones?”

“Yes.” He looked at his pipe. It had long gone cold and the beautifully carved wood had been worn in many a place from his handling of the old thing. “And no. Simply recalling the past recalls remembering the joyous and painful moments together.”

His companion hummed and they fell to silence again. And like before, his companion broke it, though this time far sooner than last time. “But that is not what has weighed down your soul, is it?”

His grip convulsed around the pipe and he shifted his hands so that he was cradling the gift. “No, it is not.”

“What has you so concerned, friend?” they encouraged, though their voice left it clear he had every right to refuse.

Oh how he wanted to. Oh how he wanted to say it mattered not. But this was the one person he could ask, the one person he could confide in without fearing scorn or hearing lies. With a deep breath, he asked hoarsely, “Is it asking too much to be given time?”

“Of course not,” came the instant reply. “Your loved ones understand and they wait patiently for you to join them.” He chuckled and his companion gained a knowing smile. “Yes, even that gruff lover of yours. He is being surprisingly patient waiting for you to come home when you are ready.”

The stars seemed unusually bright that evening. That or the tears in his eyes were increasing their light for him as he tried not to cry. “And if I want to be selfish and go home?”

The figure’s smile turned understanding. “It is not selfish to want to go home or to stay here. But you can’t stay on the fence forever.”

His companion stood as he rubbed at his eyes. When his vision was clear, his companion was standing before him, hand outreached to him. “If you wish,” they offered, “I can take you home now. There is nothing tying you here anymore. Your loved ones will be fine and will understand. But it is your choice. It is your choice till the hourglass empties and then it will be your time to go, no matter what you wish. That was the request you had made.”

He smiled sadly, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eye. “And when did that hourglass run dry?”

His companion grinned. “Oh, about the time I started climbing this ridiculous hill. Honestly, couldn’t you have chosen your lovely home to end your time in?”

He laughed, taking their hand. It was solid and warm, almost contradictory with who his companion was, but the grip was steady and sure as the figure helped him to his feet. He felt far more nimble than he had in years when they aided him to his feet. A fog rolled in, grey but luminous.

“So,” he asked, running his hands over his favorite waistcoat that looked brand new. His hands slowed to trace the embroidery done into the fabric, tucking his pipe in a pocket as he did so. “I had forgotten how beautiful this had been back then.”

“A lot is muddled by age and time,” his guide spoke, leading him down a not so steep hill. He could not see very far but he trusted his guide to lead him true. “You will find that even love will be as well.”

The fog cleared and at once, he felt at home though he not truly recognize the home they were in. But there was the sound of thunderous feet and he was swept up by many. First, his two adoring nephews, followed swiftly by an assortment of friends that had passed before him. The crowd was split by one figure he reached for, called out for, and the moment their hands entangled, he found himself yanked against a broad chest he had nearly forgotten, hands burying themselves in raven locks as he kissed his husband and lover. Much larger and stronger, his husband was able to lift him completely off the ground and support him with ease. The kiss broke, and they touched foreheads, beaming.

“Welcome home,” his husband greeted breathlessly.

“I am home,” he agreed happily.

And he meant it as he touched foreheads with his sister-in-law, the mother of the nephews that had greeted him first. Soon, though he hoped for not a very long time in the mortal plain, they would be joined by his nephew by blood and his not so little family would be complete. But he could wait. It was not his nephew’s time yet and he hoped that his nephew took all the time he could.
He woke slowly, feeling groggy but well rested. Too comfortable and pleasantly warm, he was rather determined to go back to sleep. May have succeeded too, if there hadn’t been movement and then chaos from one side, then the other of the bed, both warm bodies on either side of him the cause of such chaos. He raised his head, first looking to his wide-eyed lover beside him, before looking to his companion who was - to his surprise - against the far wall. He pushed himself up fully, calling out, “Ano?”

Her blue eyes snapped to him, fur settling as she slowly deemed it safe. He frowned, looking to his lover for some insight.

Still wide-eyed, his lover clenched the sheets in his hands in a show of discomfort. “I, ah, had reached over you and my hand had found her fur. I just petted what I could touch. I didn’t mean to upset her.”

He relaxed, sitting back on his ankles. So that was all that it was. He was grateful for small miracles, as small as that miracle was. He started to climb out of the bed. “Stay put. I’ll go talk her down.”

His lover didn’t say anything but his confusion was written all over his face. As soon as he had gotten himself untangled from the sheets he swore were trying to eat him alive, he quickly leaned forward and gave his lover a kiss. “In a second. Her first.”

Boyfriend sated enough, he moved over to his companion. He only came as close as was deemed safe. While she would probably never harm him in an episode, he didn’t need her disappearing in the manor quite yet. “Hey girl,” he spoke softly. “its alright. Drew didn’t mean you any harm.”

He reached out a hand but she bared her teeth. He was certain that if she hadn’t been mute, she would have been growling since the chaos on the bed, whatever that had been. His hand stilled but he didn’t pull it back. She settled a bit.

“Come on, Ano,” he encouraged, though his exasperation with the situation slipped in around the edged. “It’s me. It’s Solace. Sol? Nothing?”

He inched forward a bit more but she bared her teeth again, pressing into the wall. He sighed and flopped onto his butt, running a hand through his hair. “Great. So we’re going to play this game.”

“Sol?”

Solace looked over his shoulder. Andrew was still on the bed but he had settled on the edge closest to Solace and Ano. He looked uncomfortable but Solace wasn’t sure if that was due to the situation or from worry. Solace looked to the ceiling, annoyed. He had been so comfortable and now he had to deal with this. With a sigh, he got up and walked over to the bed. He took a seat between Andrew and the head of the bed before flopping back. It wasn’t quite as comfortable as it had been earlier but that may be in part due to the sheets bunching up oddly beneath his back. He shifted, yanking the sheets out from under his back. Once comfy, he patted the bed beside him. “Lay down, Drew. She’ll be fine. She won’t go anywhere.”

Andrew glanced towards Ano before settling beside Solace. Solace could feel his boyfriend’s eyes boring into the side of his head but he was having a hard time putting his words together. Giving up on trying to make this as painless as possible, he took a deep breath and dived in.

“As you know, Ano is my companion assigned by my father.” He raised a hand, pressing his fingers to Andrew’s lips as the man opened them to say something. Solace gave him a flat look. “Questions, comments, and concerns wait till the end of me talking.” Andrew looked a bit put out but settled down to listen nonetheless. Solace was grateful for it as he situated himself to continue his tale.

“Everyone knows that my father appointed her to be my companion. It was the talk of the town for years, sadly. But what people don’t know is the reason why.

A year before she was made my companion, I was a different man. Foolish, arrogant, and just beyond the age of maturity, I was anything but mature. I saw things the way my grandfather and my uncle saw things; that we needed to be the ones with the largest stick to not only wield, but sell. I had grown up believing there was nothing wrong with that, despite my father’s attempts to teach me otherwise. It would seem I wouldn’t understand till I took one hell of a life lesson.

It was supposed to be a demonstration of our latest "largest stick” and, yes, that is in air quotes because behind closed doors, my grandfather and uncle and myself all called it that. The weapon itself wasn’t a stick but, by the end of it all, I had wished it had been.

The demonstration went without a hitch and the weapon a massive hit. Literally, in a way, and then the laws came to play; for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. We were ambushed on our way back. My grandfather and uncle were supposedly killed in the attack and I somehow managed to survive only to be kidnapped and tortured.

As well you know, I still have nightmares from that time. I wasn’t alone, per say, but I was the only one that spoke the common tongue and I was not adapt at any language the others spoke. There wasn’t even a decent translator for my kidnappers and I never could figure out what they wanted. Eventually, they got fed up with them and tossed me into a room void of windows and void of light when the door slammed shut. I was too tired from my latest round of torture to care, though, and succumbed to a fitful sleep.

When I awoke, it was with a warm, fluffy body pressed up against my side. I didn’t dare move. I could feel hot breath against the back of my neck and, without sight, I wasn’t sure if it would kill me or not if I dared to even twitch. Eventually, the creature got up and moved away, allowing me to get up as well. I placed myself in a corner, hunkered down, and waited. I was like that for what had to have been weeks. Water would appear every so often but food was scarce and only enough to barely keep the creature I was rooming with going, let alone myself, but I found that food and water always came while I was asleep and there was always some for me to consume. The creature would sporadically settle against me but I never dared to touch. It turned out to be what saved my life in the end.

The door was thrown open hard and wide, spilling light into the room. I had ended situated to the left of the door, meaning that the door bounded off the wall near me. The room was bathed in light and I blinked as quickly as I could to clear my sight to be able to see what was going on. There, against the wall farthest from the door, was what I had initially thought to be a dog. Certainly had looked like it when I had first seen it. Some rookie - had to have been a rookie or this dude was thick in the head - walked right up and grabbed the dog by scruff of the neck. That was the last time I ever thought of dog in association with the creature. It turned on the dude so quick, he was a pile of shredded meat before his screams even finished echoing off the walls. Blue eyes were still startling sharp, though, as they focused on the open, supposedly unguarded door before focusing on me. I just stared into those blue eyes, not knowing what else to do.

The creature came over and pressed up against me, nosing my hand. Shakily, I reached out, flinching back before I could bury my fingers into the matted fur. I was scared. Alone, in the dark, nearly starved to death, and having just witnessed a man get torn to bits by what I had presumed to be a dog at first made me very wary of touching the creature still pressed against me. But it insisted, this time not so gently as it gripped my wrist in its teeth and pressed my hand into the fur of its back. Malnourished as I was, the bite probably wasn’t even all that strong to begin with but it broke skin and fractured my wrist. I hissed in pain but managed to keep from calling out. Hand now in fur, though, I was unable to get myself to let go as I gripped a fist full. The creature took a few steps away and I stumbled to my feel only to collapse onto the creature’s back.

Most uncomfortable ride of my life. We were both bony, but man that was the worst. I was bruised all across my ribs because of it but it had been the fastest way out. I hadn’t really walked much while in the dark room so my legs had kinda taken to just resting in a sort of curled up position. Worked better in the long run because my feet didn’t drag and I didn’t need to exert any effort to keep my feet safe from unbelievable harm that dragging them across a dirt and rocky surface could cause.

We made it about half way before we were cut off. The creature went at our assailants and I fell off somewhere in the skirmish. Adrenaline does wonders but a weak body is still weak. I did what I could and ended up taking a number of attacks for the creature because it was all I could do. Saved both our lives, though, seeing as that creature got us both out of there alive and in one piece once it had me on its back again.

“Later found out said creature was an inor and female with no name and no voice and we were both desperately lost.” There was a new weight on the bed but Solace only lifted his arm. But instead of settling against his right side, Ano settled against his left, firmly between him and Andrew. He looked down at his companion, arching an eyebrow but only commenting, “Seems she forgives ya. You should be able to pet her now that she’s actually awake.”

Andrew did just that, though his touch was clearly cautious and light. “I don’t understand,” Andrew spoke. “She’s never had an issue before.”

Solace shook his head. “It’s easier to manage while its daytime and she’s awake. But for years, far more than you or I could imagine surviving such a hellhole, Ano was trapped in that room. The only touch she ever received for years on end were aggressive and painful. She was conditioned to retaliate against touch. That’s why she shies away from human affection even during the day. The only one you’ll ever see petting her for more than a few brief seconds is myself.” A soft smile came to Solace’s face. “Though, that is changing. She’s an inor and, thankfully, she had known proper affection before that place.”

“What does her being an inor have to do with anything?” Andrew inquired.

“I forget not everyone knows their cryptozoology. Inor is the all encompassing term for those of creature form that can speak and learn. In layman’s terms, it means she has the equivalent of a human mind in that skull of hers. If she had a voice, she would be able to speak clearly and talk with us. She knows how to read and write, if just barely due to my lack of talent as a teacher, and she remembers. But it also means she’s not as easy to "retrain”, as it were, as a normal dog - or wolf, in her case - would be. It’ll be years before either of our traumas diminish into bad dreams.“
The radio gave a soft deep click as the alarm activated. The programmed settings turned the radio on to whatever station the dial had been placed at with whatever volume the nob had been left at. He woke before the song started playing.

“But you crawled beneath my veins and now
I don’t care, I have no luck
I don’t miss it all that much
There’s just so many things
That I can’t touch, I’m torn

I’m all out of faith
This is how I feel, I’m cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed
Into something real
I’m wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn-”

The song cut off as he pressed the power button. He stayed standing before his alarm clock radio for another second, finger having yet to leave the button, as he silently seethed at the accursed thing for playing such a song. No, this was not ok. He did not need the radio to currently reflect his love life with some old, outdated country song.

The placement of the radio having been done on purpose, he turned and went to his bathroom. As much as he would have loved to turn and just climb back into bed, he did have school and, honestly, he was closer to the bathroom than his bed.

The hot water did nothing more than make him want to sleep more but at least it felt good. He took longer to shower than he normally would have simply so he could enjoy the good feeling. The water was still the perfect temperature as he turned it off. He sighed. He was going to miss good plumbing.

He dried himself off, a towel wrapped around his sopping hair piled on his head. He kept his hair bundled as such till he was dressed in a pair of jeans and then - and only then - did he pull at the towel to remove it from his hair. It slapped wet against his back, sticking to his skin, but the cool, wet hair felt rather refreshing in the still warm bathroom that had reached a point of hot now that he was dried off. He rubbed at his hair with the drier edges and side of the towel.

Putting the second towel away, he grabbed a brush and went downstairs.

He found breakfast sitting on the counter before one the bar stools and the woman that had cooked it all for him standing behind the given stool. She gave him a kind smile and took the proffered brush. He settled in to eat and she started brushing out his long hair.

“Will you be letting Alice braid your hair?” the woman asked as he neared the end of his breakfast, the brush now abandoned on a chair as the woman ran her hands through the length of brown locks.

“No,” he replied simply, scooping together the remains on his plate. “I just want to put it up like I normally do today. Nothing fancy.”

Nothing fancy, he says. He was already fancy as it was with silky brown hair that was at the middle of his back now that hung impeccably straight. But he could never bring himself to cut it. He liked his hair, liked what he could do with it and how he looked with it long. There was tugging at the hair behind his ears and he sat up a bit straighter to allow the woman easier access. How he normally did his hair was collect the length that grew behind his ears and brought the two bundles of hair together at the back of his head in a ponytail. It was a style his mom used to do in her own hair and taught him how to do when his was long enough. Funny. Looking back on it now, that was probably the reason why he liked his hair being long and why he always did his hair this way.

Damn. Now he was missing his mom again.

He felt the woman pull on his hair enough to make the ponytail nice and tight and as secure as possible, which wasn’t much considering nothing liked staying in his hair. Even braids started falling out after enough time. But with her having done it, it would last through the day with even a bit of rough housing in gym. As long as he didn’t touch it, it would stay just fine.

The woman touched his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “The others are waiting for you. Alice has your things.”

He slipped from his chair and kissed the woman on the cheek. “Thank you for breakfast. See you after school.”

He walked to the garage and entered, finding two people next to a jeep. The sprite of a girl of the pair beamed at him, opening her mouth to greet him. He raised his hand, glaring at her. “I don’t want to know what she made me, don’t tell me anything about the day, and if you so much as breathe about their wedding, I will walk to school and ignore you for the rest of the week.” He jabbed a finger in her direction as he emphasized, “That includes through graduation and no doing fancy things to my hair for the day.”

She snapped her mouth shut rather quickly and looked put out. He glared at the male, turning his finger to him. “No interfering. She deserves this.”

The male held up his hands in surrender, clearly ok with staying out of it.

“Not even a little bit?” the sprite of a girl inquired, puppy dog eyes and trembling lip not working on him. Well, not properly, at least.

“Not even a little bit.” He brought his face closer to hers but his anger died and amusement seemed to be the only thing he could find now. “I will walk up to that stage with a rat nest hairstyle and you won’t even be able to touch a strand.”

She squealed and smacked at him, though her touch was careful so as to do no harm. Even as tiny as she was, she could still break his arm if she hit him without watching her strength. She went off on a rant, calling him mean and rude and denying he would actually do that as all he could do was laugh and climb into the jeep. Even sitting in the back seat didn’t save him from her swatting.

She was right, though. He wouldn’t actually follow through with the threat. As much as he would love to do it just to spite her, a number of other people would be on him in a heartbeat with detangler and brushes before he could even step a foot out of his bedroom. Not only that, but he wanted to look presentable. He wanted to look like the young man his mom would be proud of.

And he hoped to sway his eyes briefly from his cousin, if just for a moment.

He crushed that thought with a vengeance.

[ArtisticVicu]

October 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

Magic crackled around her hands. It burned and ate at the appendages but she ignored it. She had to. She ran as hard as she could towards the fight as his magic curled around her and suddenly they were in the midst of the battle. She adapted to the sudden change in location and lashed out with magic that was foreign to her body and far more potent than the magic from her home region. She threw creatures about, delaying the inevitable of those around her as one by one every person she was trying to save - that they were trying to save - were turned to stone.

Suddenly, he was the only living thing not turned to stone that she could see fighting with her, rather than against her. Panic flooded her and she lashed out at the creatures trying to turn her to stone as well. It cleared the way enough for her to catch sight of two Magics in a losing fight against Orbicas. Every attack they sent his way did little and he only laughed, high and sharp, at their pitiful attempts to binding him. He zapped them of more magic, and she watched in horror as the eldest of the pair crashed to her knees, her once magic saturated hair limp and dull against her back as her legs started to turn to stone. The cool breeze was the only thing that made her hair move now and even that was not going to be enough.

“Solis!” the younger cried loud enough that she heard it even from where she stood so far away. But the sudden push from seeing the eldest fall to her knees slowly changing mattered little as Orbicas flicked his wrist and the younger was thrown to the ground, her own legs slowly turning to stone.

“Dissonance!” she yelled, lashing out at the surrounding creatures again. He was suddenly at her side, his magic wrapping around her as she reached out carefully with hers. The mental link was briefly formed, barely a whisper in both their minds, but it was enough to pass on the message of what had to be done, the plan she had roughly formed. It was enough and the connection snapped apart. He shot off like a bullet, slamming into Orbicas with a force that clearly surprised the overpowered lackey. She felt her heart go out to the region; to be tormented by someone that had normally been ranked as a lowlife and not the villain he was now was frightening. If the villain over Orbicas’s head ever found out about this magic saturated region, the entire world would suffer and none of them would be able to do anything about it.

She shoved the thought aside as magic licked at her body, dragging her through space and relocating her just before the two Magics of the region, her hands starting to bleed. Dissonance was flung skyward but she had no time to worry. It would work out well in the end as she reached up and unleashed her own magic.

Orbicas was suddenly ensnared in chains far stronger than anything he could break out of, even with his sudden power boost. He glared at her, challenging, “You think you can do me any damage when the two Magics behind you could do nothing?!”

“Echo,” the young Magic behind her whispered. Her name drew her attention but her magic never wavered and she couldn’t spare the Magic a glance. Didn’t seem she needed to as the young Magic pressed on in a strained voice, “Be….careful.”

There was a final crackle before silence fell behind her. Both Magics were now fully stone and Echo allowed her eyes to slide shut in silent mourning. Orbicas cackled above her and she opened her eyes to glare at him. “See! Not even she was safe from my power!”

Echo gave a vicious grin as she took in the massive ball of magical energy Dissonance was collecting in his upturned palm. He was so small and the mass of magic was so large. Echo shoved Orbicas far out to the center of the crater he had originally made, magic humming through her body painfully. It ringed the crater as Dissonance finished off the collection.

“I’m not concerned for my safety,” Echo spoke, her words soft but her ability to create mental links carrying her words for her as she lost a bit of her control. She had lost her finite control coming here and she could no longer care for its loss. The magic that had ringed the crater slowly edged skyward, slowly constructing a shield. “I’m more concerned about making sure there’s nothing left of you to harm another soul again.”

Dissonance threw his hand down. The gesture dragged him out of the way as the mass of magic descended.

“What?!” Orbicas squawked, his gaze snapping skywards. His eyes widened as the orb began to increase in speed. Orbicas suddenly started fighting his bonds and Echo grunted under the strain of holding him tight and waiting to throw up the shield. “No!”

She looked beyond the magical attack and made eye contact with Dissonance. She watched as the satisfaction on his face bled into confusion. The moment he realized what she was doing, the magical attack was where she needed to be and released her hold on her magic.

He screamed her name but it was too late and she gave him an encouraging smile as the magical attack first engulfed Orbicas before touching the ground. The shield solidified into a dome just as the ball of potential reacted.

The explosion ripped at the ground with nowhere else to go with the shield in place. She was slammed backwards into the solid shield wall behind her and, as Orbicas’s screams mingled with the sound of the explosion itself, her mind was swallowed by white before being engulfed in darkness. She prayed as her mind slipped into unconsciousness that her shield held long enough for the damage done by the explosion was contained.

A once familiar magic burned across her being and the scream ripped itself from her throat. Consciousness did not bring coherence, and the body wrapped around her felt like a branding iron at every point of contact. She had so little strength, though, and while she tried to get away, all it did was cause her body to writhe in pain.

Eventually, eventually, the pain diminished and exhaustion threatened to pull her under again. But the form holding her was shaking and she could make out the sound of crying. She forced her eyes open with what strength she had left and frowned up at the blurry sight before her. She couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was seeing but glimpses of color and the voice accompanying the crying had her drawing a tentative conclusion.

“Dissonance?” Her voice was raspy and weak, but he seemed to hear her just fine as he jerked around her. He cupped her cheek, his words washing over her without leaving an impression. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes but couldn’t give into her exhaustion quite yet. “Did it work?”

“Yes,” came the choked reply. She was glad that the word didn’t just brush her by. “Yes, the others are being freed now.”

“I’m glad.” She wasn’t sure she had fallen asleep or not but when she opened her eyes again, they were moving, albeit slowly. “I’m so tired.”

He shifted her about and she felt his cheek press against the top of her forehead. “Go to sleep, Echo. I’ve got you now. Everything will be alright.”

She tried to hum in reply but it didn’t come out right and she didn’t care enough to correct it as she finally succumbed to her exhaustion.
Screaming echoed through the crowded streets as everyone fled towards the heart of the city. The mass of bodies surged this way and that and she forced her way through. Her throat was already raw from yelling for people to move deeper, to keep going.

And just as abruptly as the chaos had ensued, she was free of the crowd, stumbling from the sudden lack of pressing bodies. She brought her weapon into her hands and settled on a knee right there in the middle of the street. Ahead of her was a lumbering hoard of undead and a sneer settled on her face. She took aim and shot. The resounding explosion ripped through a hardy chunk. Three more shots went off, though none were hers, and three more explosions joined her own.

“How did they manage to get over the wall?” someone shouted over the comm. They were to her right some distance meaning she got an annoying echo.

“Doesn’t matter,” came a calm voice over the comm in her ear. “Take them out.”

“Working on it, Boss,” the male that had settled at her side responded. His weapon discharged and the resounding explosion not only took out a part of the hoard, but brought down a building as well, crushing a much hardier section.

“Watch the collateral damage, Gilroy!” a different voice barked over the comm. The lack of background noise suggested that the figure was with “Boss”.

“Easy, Lyvis,” she countered, taking out the building on the opposite side of the street as well. “He’s doing us a favor.”

Lyvis groaned. “Come on, guys. Our orders are to take them out with minimal collateral damage here. We don’t have the supplies we did before the Event to repair the things you’re destroying.”

There came a chortle through the comm, background noise suggesting that whoever it was was nearby. “Hate to point this out, but the damage we deal will be minimal compared to what they’re doing.”

“Agreed,” came Boss’s calm voice. “Keep them corralled. Use buildings if it’s efficient only. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir!” came the chorused response.

Gilroy took a step forward beside her, taking control. “Alright, Dan, take yer team and head south. Acal, north. Circle and keep the undead centered on this street if you can. Make it to the wall if you can and spread back this way. We need eyes on that wall yesterday.”

The two squads broke off, leaving her with Gilroy’s squad. She briefly wondered where hers was at.

“How you handling, Eka?”

She straightened but kept up her attack. She didn’t recognize the voice but the background noise seemed to suggest they were close. “Well. Why?”

“Your squad got cut off .”

She frowned at the stranger’s words and took the chance to look back. Gilroy’s squad had a hold on things anyways.

She felt sick as she turned around, bringing her weapon up and firing a shot. “The line’s been breached!” she shouted across the comm.

There was a ruckus of demands for clarifications but she ignored the majority of the noise. Made no use to decipher what she couldn’t understand until a voice cut through the static of voices.

“Eka! Get us eyes!”

“On it, Lyris!” she responded in kind, glancing at Gilroy as she barked, “Keep me covered.”

She got a brisk nod before she took off towards the building beside her.

The automatic doors slid open for her and she took off through the empty structure towards the elevator. “Copris, am I clear to use the elevator?”

“Should be,” came the drawl of the techie. “Door on the left opening now. Teams are being advised to avoid damaging the building you’re currently occupying.”

“Appreciated,” she shot back as she slid into the elevator that dinged open. “Get me to the top floor.”

“Express elevator going up.”

The doors slid shut.

The ride was longer than she would have liked but it was far faster than stairs any rate. She filled the time prepping. “Roof access?”

Corpis answered, “Left out of the elevator and down the right hall. Third hallway on the left, fifth door down. Should be another hallway. Access should be through the door at the end. Take the stairs up.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

An undead lunged at her and she cried out as she dropped. She rammed her gun in the undead’s gut and shoved them over her shoulder. She stepped out of the elevator into a small crowd of the creatures. “Corpis, how long till the elevator doors close.”

“As long as you need.”

She shoved another one into the elevator, making the first one collapse again. “Fifteen seconds.”

“Countdown begun.”

She shoved a third and fourth in with a bit more effort that she would have preferred. “Can you check to see if there are any more in here?”

“No,” came his quick response as she was slammed into the wall. “There are no cameras on that floor I can access.”

“Great,” she ground out before shoving the fifth into the sixth and shoving them both into the elevator. The doors slid shut. “Can you drop it?”

“Already on it.”

She moved, not caring to stick about to find out if that worked or not. She came across three more, a pair and a single, but it was rather easy to take care of them seeing as she surprised them. As soon as she was in the hallway towards the stairs, she called out, “Lyris, almost to the roof. Boss, how’s it looking out there.”

“Hard to tell,” Boss spoke, sounding far more severe than she had heard him before and she had seen him when Gilroy had been held at gunpoint. That had been scary. This was far more disconcerting. “We need eyes.”

“Almost there.”

The door banged open as she brought her weapon up but the stairway was clear. At least, the section she needed. She didn’t know about the lower floors. Taking the stairs two at a time, she was out onto the roof shortly there after. She raced across the roof, slamming into the low wall that rimmed the expanse. She jerked equipment about, setting up in record time. She flicked a switch and the feeds went life.

There was a breath of silent, the only noise drifting up towards her from below before a voice came across the comm.

“Gods help us,” Lyvis uttered breathlessly as he took control of the cameras.

Eka’s brought her head up and around, finding the view to the wall clear of obstacles. She closed her eyes against the sense of defeat rushed over, numbing her as the camera recording what she saw stayed on the view of desolated lands beyond the now crumbling wall with a sea of undead crashing against the city’s failing defense.

“Gods help up all,” Boss agreed, his voice the only thing coming over the dead comm.

Eka opened her eyes, resigned. “The zombie apocalypse is upon us.”

Soft, broken crying came over the comm. There was nothing from the teams on the ground below.
Chatter and laughter filled the streets of the generally quiet neighborhood. Children squealed and raced about decked out in a costume of their choosing. Ninjas, ballerinas, pirates, and superheroes of all kinds blended with robots, villains, and any sort of concoction a child’s mind could come up with. Some were store bought, some were homemade, and a small number were clearly thrift store creations, though not a single kid seemed to care. Already that night a butterfly princess and a ninja ballerina had raced passed to the next house, not to mention a number of things he didn’t recognize but not a single face showed any sadness or dislike for the costume they wore. He smiled at the parents he passed, greeting those with soft words that spoke them first and giving nods to those that offered no such words. Everyone, though, was in good spirits, and that was all that mattered.

He brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a slow pull as he came to a stop at the corner. This deep into the neighborhood at the given time meant that traffic was near nonexistent, especially with the holiday, so adults walked crowds of kids through the street, lenient on the rule of playing in the streets till the random vehicle came crawling by. He released the breath of smoke, watching a group of children that had clearly planned their costumes with each other cut across the intersection he stood at, the chaperones trailing behind chatting. He brought the cigarette to his lips again, looking about as a thought came to mind.

Sure enough, the majority of the adults walking about weren’t in any obvious costume. There were the spatterings of adults in costumes but they generally had a kiddo in a costume that was far too young to even understand what trick-or-treating was, let alone understand what was even going on. These parents also generally had other kids with them so it was an assumption that the candy would be spread among the kids at the end of the night and stashed away for the adults to enjoy at a later time.

He released the breath of smoke, turning his gaze over the street again. He scratched at his ear, growing bored. As much as he enjoyed people watching and contemplating the costumes running about, he was growing bored. He dug out the old pocket watch he couldn’t seem to be without and popped it open. The hands shown that it wasn’t all that late in the evening, though the sun had already set due to the higher latitude. While the information was useful, it hadn’t been what he was looking for and he swiped his thumb over the glass, watching as the face of the watch melted into what he had been wanting to look at.

The ink on the watch’s face began to bleed. The gorgeous background bled this way and that, colors coming forth that hadn’t been part of the numbers nor the background itself. Soon, the entire thing redrew and re-orientated itself into several things. First, a compass, the smallest hand from the clock shifting to become the needle. Second, a ring of images, the largest hand staying in place. Third, an odd sort of grid that took up what the tiny compass in the center left untouched and the seconds hand started to rotate clockwise smoothly in a manner that didn’t match the speed of a second passing. It picked up speed and soon it became almost invisible as it spun on its axis at an amazing rate. The seconds hand lit up and suddenly there were dots all over the grid of different colors. He used the crown to zoom in and the grid shifted as the lights moved. Soon there were only a few lights and he easily picked out who they belonged to without having to strain. He pulled the crown in the up position and the hour hand started to slowly move counterclockwise. It made three full rotations before stopping on an image, swinging clockwise, stopping on a different image not even opposite image, and then moving counterclockwise to the opposite side of the other image, nearly making it all the way around to the second image only to stop. This time it continued on counterclockwise only to pause on the third image before going clockwise. The hour hand swung this way and that, almost at random and picking up speed. Eventually, it would seem to make no sense at all going this way and that, bounding from image to image, pausing at certain images more than others, and any onlooker would be amazed to see his expression blank beyond the attentiveness in his gaze upon the swiveling hour hand.

When the hour hand came to a stop at the 12 o'clock position resting on the line between two images, he rolled the crown between his fingers, zooming the grid out a bit. A few dots were moving towards him and he smiled. He swiped his thumb over the glass of the watch once more before snapping the lid shut and pocketing the watch.

He turned, smiling at his friends as he put his cigarette out.

“Bout time,” he commented, voice scratchy around the edges. “Thought you’d never show up.”

“That pocket watch of yours didn’t tell ya we got caught in traffic?” the smallest of his friends challenges, eyes glinting in a way that spoke more than simply human.

He shrugged. “Hard to tell what it’s trying to say more times than not.”

“Lies!” came a comment from somewhere near the back. He looked towards the back, pegging the shortest dude with an arched eyebrow and an amused smile. The dude grinned at him, hefting the fake ax onto his shoulder. “What? You are clearly lying. We all know it.”

“Eh,” he responded, shrugging again even as a large smile broke across his face. Proper greetings swiftly followed before the group meandered down the street.

He itched to pull out another cigarette and light it simply for something to do with his hands. Thankfully his boyfriend came to the rescue by slipping their hand into his and holding tight. Though he later realized that it was so his boyfriend could slow them down, separate them enough from the group to speak.

“What did the watch say?” his boyfriend asked, eyes mildly concerned.

He sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Nothing good, at least. Supposedly this is the last Halloween like this, whatever that means.”

His boyfriend frowned, hand tightening around his. “Something bad?”

He shook his head. “It’s never that straightforward and with my filters, my interpretation could be off. It simply said that change is coming, that the next Halloween will not be like this.”

Again, his boyfriend’s hand tightened around his and he registered that both were attempts to comfort and assure. “Maybe it just means we’ll be dealing with a larger or different friend group or something.”

He glanced over his boyfriend’s head, eyes catching the glint of fake gold of a crown in a fake wig. His hand convulsed around his boyfriend’s hand, seeing his boyfriend’s gaze snap to the object as well. The urge to keep his boyfriend calm was a reflex bred out of years of being with said boyfriend but thankfully it was an invisible reaction to most. The magic wrapped protectively - and almost possessively - around his boyfriend, drawing said boyfriend’s gaze away from the fake crown and back to him. There was a soft smile on his boyfriend’s face and once more the hand around his tightened in a show of comfort and assurance. “It’s fine. I’m not so easily swayed anymore.”

He brought the hand up to press a gentle kiss to the knuckles, offering, “I forget sometimes how much control you have now and sometimes simply react.”

His boyfriend beamed at him, reaching up with their free hand to cup his cheek. “I would much rather you react out of habit than take the chance of my control slipping without your magic there to keep me in this human form. The longer I’m in it, the easier it is to suppress my instincts but not even I can resist the call to hoard sometime.”

He smiled gently, leaning into the touch. “Then why be a dragon at all? I could change you so very easily.”

His boyfriend shook their head, offering in kind, “I quite enjoy being able to fly as much as you quite enjoy being able to wield magic as you do. That and I will always be of dragon blood. Even using magic to turn me human would not change that. I would retain aspects of my draconian self, hording included.”

He gave a gentle laugh. “True.” He looked over to where their friends were waiting for them before focusing back on his boyfriend. “Come on. The portal closes in a few hours and we still have a party to get to.”

His boyfriend fell into step beside him as they made their way towards the group. His boyfriend did inquire, though, “How did you manage to get invited to a party not even in our realm?”

He grinned. “Surprisingly, friendships transcend even the boundaries of realms and dimensions. Not sure how they ever managed to send the invite to begin with, but apparently there are going to be more from other worlds than those that are from this given realm.”

His boyfriend grinned in turn, showing off far more teeth than he had and the shiver that raced down his back no longer held fear like it used to. Even human a dragon’s grin was something to be wary of. He had seen it too many times, though, to associate it with anything negative now. Well, negative towards himself. Other people were screwed. A dragon’s amusement came from more than harmless pranks. “I do hope I get to make a few…acquaintances with a few other world guests.”

He laughed, feeling as if he should feel sorry for his boyfriend’s newest victims at the Halloween Party. Instead, all he felt was joy and anticipation to see who would be able to meet his boyfriend head-on in a battle of wits, pranks, and magic. “You will probably make a many acquaintance without trying. This is Halloween, after all. All those that do not belong here come out for the night.”

[ArtisticVicu]

November 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

“No! Please! I didn’t mean it!” she hollered, struggling against the grip around her wrist. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the others shrinking away and being left alone. Good. She could take this far better than they could. “Please! I’m sorry!” she screamed, putting on such an act that she had everyone fooled.

“Shut up,” the one dragging her along growled, shaking her. “You did this to yourself so you will pay for your mistakes.”

Her hands were shoved into the basin of scalding water and she let out the loudest pain filled scream she could struggling against the grips holding her hands under the water. Mentally detached from the act she was putting on, she noted that while the water was hot it wouldn’t actually leave a mark. In fact, the sensation of the hot water on her cold hands was fascinating and she used it to keep her sanity as she led them all by their nose believing she was breaking.

She was shoved back with the others and while she wanted to assure them all she was alright, she shied away from them, cowering as was expected.

It was hours later when one of the other captives came to her side, a familiar empty bowl in hand. They must have been fed while she dozed.

“We have food for you,” the one that had approached her whispered.

“Give it to the ones that need it most,” she ordered softly. “I’ll be fine till the next meal.”

The other nodded and walked away, taking the bowl with them. It was dangerous behaving as such with one that could betray her to those that held them but she trusted them, as foolish as that was. She trusted them to behave as needed and she would lead them out like the sheep they were.

It was just a matter of time, after all.

The next round of meals came and she made the act of shoveling food. It was rather easy seeing as they weren’t given utensils to use. She just pushed more off her hand than she actually took in her mouth.

It was working. Those that watched over them were watching her less and less while those she was trapped with watched her more and more.

The alarm came when they had all managed to get to sleep.

She was up and moving towards the bars, three others joining her. She pressed against the bars of the cell, gesturing for those that had joined her to be quiet, and waited.

A moment later, guards rushed passed.

“-breach of the northern wing. All personnel! Breach to the northern wing. Lock down commen-”

She turned, facing the three with her as the guards disappeared. “Gather everyone quickly. We’re leaving.”

Two of the three dashed off to round everyone up while the third passed her several small items. Turning, she popped the electronic lock’s cover and got to work. By the time the entire group was situated, the lock clicked open and the door swung freely on its hinges.

“Keep together and keep quiet,” she directed. “Those set to release the other rooms, do it now. Meet up at the designated place.”

A few branched off as she let another lead the masses through the halls at a run. She brought of the rear end to help those that couldn’t keep the pace not get left behind.

A rumbled rolled through the building as another group joined them. The now larger group spilled out into the receiving hall even as the group kept together. She ran around the edge, shouting orders. “Keep tight together! We’re not leaving a soul behind if we can help it!”

Another group joined them, adding to the mass of bodies clustered in the middle of the room. She kept running perimeter with a few others, keeping everyone in a relatively circular shape even as the third and fourth groups were added.

The building shook and a number screamed. She came to a stop, gaze snapping to the ceiling. Almost there.

She looked to one of the ones helping her. “Keep them clustered and as calm as possible. I’ll get our ride.”

“Be safe,” they responded, nodding.

She didn’t get very far.

The outside wall was blown in as she reached the door and the entire mass of bodies quickly moved towards the opposite side of the space pressing tight against the far wall. Several tripped and a few fell but none were left behind. Many stopped to grab and drag along. They had been in this together for too long for one of them to be left behind.

She turned, catching someone before setting them upright. She took a few steps forward as the dust cleared and the debris settled. Beyond the destroyed wall was a vessel that had them all on edge till the gangways were lowered, revealing that those on board were not those they needed to fear.

There, standing at the edge of the middle gangway was a figure that she was immensely grateful to see. He locked eyes with her in an instant and before the ramp had been completely extended, he was running across it towards her. She ran to meet him.

He leapt the gap. landing hard and rolling but never losing his momentum. They collided, armed wrapping around each other and shifting weights to keep themselves upright. She pressed her face into his shoulder as she cried out, not sure if it was his name she was calling or simply exclaiming her utter joy and relief to have him there. He buried a hand in her overgrown hair, the other gripping the measly fabric between her shoulder blades as he held her tight, any words he was saying going unheard till he pulled back enough to look at her, his hand dragging along her scalp to cup her cheek.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice calm and familiar. She nodded, watching, waiting. He relaxed, letting out a breath. He slipped his hand from her cheek to the side of her neck. “Good. I would have been here sooner but I ran into a few political issues.”

“Your timing worked well enough,” she assured him. She looked to those that were being herded into the craft. “What will happen to them?”

His gaze followed hers as his thumbed rubbed over her skin slowly, She suppressed the shudder at the sensation, appreciating the comfort he was giving her with the contact. “The Association has created a small town for them to all live in. If any want to return to their Masters or go elsewhere, we’ll help as best be can.”

She turned, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Can we go home?” she asked weakly.

“As soon as I can pull us away.” He pinned her against him and she reveled in the sense of security as he pressed his face into her hair. “I am never letting you out of my sight again.”

She chuckled and he pulled back. Her smile fell away instantly, ready for an order. Instead, he stared at her and she grew confused.

“If I kissed you now, would you push me away?”

She blinked, staring at him. “I-You can’t. I’m your Collared. It would be improper.”

“You were never registered as such and the Association is willing to get you your honorable discharge as well as a badge of some sort for your part in this.”

She lost all her strength at that. His arms tight around her kept her upright. She couldn’t think, couldn’t seem to find a reaction. She knew he was calling her name, could hear it, but it wasn’t really registering as she realized that the heaviest thing she had carried for so long was the one thing she didn’t want to let go of now. She looked to him, her eyes pleading. “I don’t have anywhere to go. All I have is that status. I don’t-”

His lips covered hers, stilling her words. She was shaking as she lost her composure but he was there, he was solid, and he was clinging to her as if he didn’t want to let go. She prayed he never would as she clung to him in turn.

He broke the kiss, his breath hot on her face. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay. With me. At my side.”

She looked at him confused but she was able to stand again so she counted that as something.

“I want you to be my life partner.”

He was pulling away but he didn’t brush her hands away. Instead, he took hers in his, pulling off the red control ring of his own finger and putting it on hers. It wasn’t a wedding band but the symbology was so much more.

“If you will have me,” he continued, “I would love nothing more than to see this world burn with you at my side, whether as my life partner or simply my partner till we go our separate ways.”

She pulled her hand from his only to grab his face and kiss him. It was short as she pulled away enough to say, “If you will have me as your life partner, then I don’t intend to be anything else but such.”

He kissed her at that and she felt like she was drowning in both of their joy and did not want to be saved.
“It’s done.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, his face expressionless like always. “Thank you.”

He looked back out but she did not leave. It wasn’t as if he had dismissed her after all. Instead, she approached his side, her heart heavy as she took in the peaceful view below. “Do you think they will suffer?”

She knew he glanced at her but she couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes locked onto the tiny specs that were the populous wandering about down below. “If they do, it will be nothing compared to what they will suffer should this fail.”

“But we’ve won, haven’t we?” she challenged, tearing her gaze from the window to look at him. “There’s nothing left to do but wait.”

A smile curled his lips. “Ah, but you seem to forget: the most dangerous thing to any plan is time. Time allows for mistakes and flaws. It allows for others to find a way to counter what you are trying to do.”

“But we’re trying to save the world.”

“Are we, though?” He met her gaze head on. “Are we truly? From another’s perspective, we are killing millions of people for the sake of our purpose, selecting a few to die for the many, and many would be outraged with such an act for who has the power to choose that?”

She didn’t have a response to that but she did have a question. “So are we the villains or are they?”

He shrugged. “Who’s to say? Good and evil is all about perspective. What could be considered good and just by one could be considered evil and unwarranted by another. This world was never meant to be viewed black and white. There are too many variables when it comes to reality to draw a line between good and evil that isn’t a thick shade of gray. It’s similar to moral ambiguity. Do you shoot the child sitting before you simply because it has the potential of becoming a great evil or do you wait till that child has destroyed a specific number of lives before you take them out? How many lives would they have to destroy? What do we mean by destroy? But at what percentage of potential would justify eliminating the child early? What are you using to justify the percentage you mark potential kill worthy? What about the potential of the child changing, of not becoming evil? There are too many variables to justify shooting a child simply because of the potential that child has of becoming something that would ruin life.” He looked at her. “And sometimes a child’s potential of becoming evil is simply an excuse to abandon, to ignore, and to kill.

"This world was built on greed. Towns, cities, countries, and continents were conquered because one person wanted more, believed they needed more, or thought that having more than their enemy would save them from being conquered themself. People are rounded up and killed out of the fear that they will take away something that the other party wants, whether materialistic or not, and as of late, some such events have gotten so massive - the death toll far larger than anything we had seen before, that we created the word genocide to even begin to define what was happening. We go to war with other nations and kill thousands - soldiers and civilians alike - and yet the soldiers that come back are hailed as heroes, not criminals. Yet they were murdering people, taking a life simply because they were told to, but a victim of domestic violence or rape can’t even defend themself without being labeled evil, especially if the attacker died.”

He raised a hand before she could even say her thought. “Yes, I am aware that things are changing, that nations are working on correcting the problem. But how long has it been since this all began? How many times have the nations reverted back to older beliefs simply because it helped a bottom line somewhere? How many times have we seen progress made only to be wiped out because of the ignorance of the masses? No nation is meant to stand alone for long and we’re witnessing that now.”

His words came to a halt and her ears rang from the lack of sound. She searched his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking, what he was feeling, but he simply turned and started for the patio door. “Let us get some fresh air.”

She followed him out to the edge of the patio, leaning on the railing with her arms crossed on top. He rested his forearms on the railing beside her and though he sighed, he said no words to her.

She couldn’t keep quiet forever and her question slipped out when the silence seemed to drag too long.

“So are we the heroes or the villains?”

He chuckled beside her, his gaze beyond his clasped hands. “Who know,” he offered in remark. “Maybe both, maybe neither. It’s hard to tell anymore.”

“Is there any going back from this?”

The smile he wore turned sad and tired. “Probably not. I prayed I would never have to resort to such actions but, now that it’s in motion, I simply can’t seem to bring myself to care anymore.” He leaned heavier on the railing. “I wonder if that is what makes me evil.”

There was a flash of light from below. They were too high to see but she knew immediately what it was.They were too close. She wondered if she even cared. He clearly did not.

“Looks like rain…”

She looked over at him, taking in the tears racing down his cheeks as he looked to the clear sky above. That broke her heart and she swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes watered in sympathy. “Yeah,” she replied, looking out to the horizon. She pretended that neither of them was shedding any tears. “Hopefully it’s a warm rain. I would hate to have to go back inside.”
“Come again?”

Endearment pulled his lips into a smile and he repeated, “If you are free and interested, a few of the castle staff are going beyond the castle grounds for wood. We need a few of the bigger trees and they asked if I was able to go with to help pick the right trees and I was hoping you would tag along.”

“That’s what I thought you had said,” Orion commented and Xavier hid his chuckle poorly. Amusement flickered through the large red pupils. “If it would not be a hindrance, I will gladly join you. It has been quite some time since I’ve left the castle grounds anyways.”

“Excellent. I will go let the staff know you will be joining us, then, and we’ll prep to leave in the hour.”

Orion gave a nod before Xavier turned and walked out of the room.

Not even fifteen minutes later after having just given the staff a heads up, Orion comes wandering into the stable looking for all intents and purposes a little lost. Xavier couldn’t help the smile that graced his features. He ignored how the staff tensed behind him. “What can we do for you, Orion?”

“Actually, I was wondering if there was anything I could help with.” Orion’s gaze flickered over Xavier’s shoulder and he briefly wondered which of the staff members had reacted to that. “I do actually want to help in any way that I can.”

Xavier nodded. He had expected this and was already set to direct things about. He turned to the staff members. “Go ahead and make sure we have what supplies we’ll need. Orion and I will go prep the horse.”

This got the staff members to relax and they each acknowledged his order in their own way before going off to do their task. Xavier then turned to Orion. “Come on. We’re hitching up the mare for this one. She’ll be stronger and better suited for the task than the stallion.”

Together, they got the mare brushed down and harnessed. Orion mostly fed the mare oats out of his palm because the animal was still skittish around him.

The mare gave no struggle being secured to an unfamiliar cart. He was grateful for it and not overly surprised at the same time. She was rather mellow even in their current situation. As much as Orion’s form made both horses skittish, at least the mare calmed down after a few short minutes.

He checked the last strap before looking to the staff joining them. “Everything ready?” He received a chorus of affirmatives.

“If you were intending to leave without me, I would have taken great offence, Xavier.”

He looked over to the entrance of the stable, finding Adonis standing with three other staff members. He offered a smile, reassuring, “I had no intentions of leaving yet. You had informed me you would need close to the hour’s time.”

Adonis nodded before turning his attention to Orion. “I am glad you will be joining us, Your Highness. Xavier was worried you would refuse his request.”

Xavier looked anywhere except at Orion. He was in blissful denial that the other had even looked his way at that as he fretted with a strap nearest his hands.

Orion hummed but due to his gaze being elsewhere, Xavier didn’t know what kind of hum it was exactly. “Are you the last of our party?”

“Yes. And if we have everything and the cart is good to go, we can leave immediately.”

“Excellent!” Xavier called out. “Then let’s get moving.”

He didn’t spare Orion a glance and cared not to think of how the other may be interpreting his desperate attempt to act as if everything was fine. Adonis smiled at him and he shot the majordomo a glare.

Xavier was left guiding the horse on foot out of simply wanting to. The movement of walking was soothing in the cold morning air and Orion somehow ended up at his side without a word from anyone. Nearly everyone else was in the cart that was not made for human passengers. Adonis and another were the only exceptions, the pair leading the way through the forest to wherever they were going.

“You were worried about my answer?”

Xavier was certain he turned as red as his nose as he sputtered a response. “I-It wasn’t any big deal. Adonis just makes it sound that way. I wanted you to come but would have understood if you had refused.”

He was fighting every indication that he was being delusional about his feelings towards Orion but Adonis’s words simply illuminated his growing crush on a man that wasn’t quite a man.

Ruddy curse.

There was a chuckle from his side and he dared at Orion. The man was smiling, clearly humored by what he had heard. A clawed hand settled around the back of his neck and the weight of it calmed him rather than the claws concerning him. He trusted Orion and the man’s control over the claws that could easily pierce his neck at the slightest mistake.

Ok, back to ignoring the claws for the sake of the comforting weight and Orion rubbing his thumb up and down the side of Xavier’s neck.

“There is very little you can ask of me that I will refuse,” Orion offered, the words almost teasing. They did nothing for how he felt about Orion, though. In fact, it made the small gesture of Orion’s thumb rubbing his neck all that more intimate. “Especially when what you are requesting of me is simply my presence in the terms of hanging out. I don’t mind the manual labor from time to time either.”

“Good to know,” he breathlessly replied. He needed to calm down, to pull himself back out of his fantasies and the crush and focus on the present where Orion wasn’t his and the other was simply rubbing circles into his neck unconsciously and without realizing what it was doing to him.

He caught sight of the river.

Frozen.

And his feet tried to stop him from continuing on.

Orion’s hand around his neck shifted to his shoulder as he tripped over his own feet, the other hand coming to wrap around his side. “Are you alright?” Orion asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Xavier assured him, forcing the smile to his face. He hoped it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “I tripped over my own two feet.”

“Do you want to ride with us?” came a voice from the cart.

Xavier looked over to see that all the staff in the cart were alert, many standing as close to him and Orion as was possible. Xavier smiled at them and this time it felt more natural. “No, I’m ok. Sometimes my feet just get under eachother.”

The staff slowly settled back down and Xavier noticed Adonis and his companion had slowed due to the commotion as well. It touched his heart that all of them were concerned for him.

It was quickly drowned out by fear when he caught sight of the river again.

The party came to a stop at what Xavier presumed to be the edge of the river and, for a moment, he thought they were simply going to travel upstream on the riverbank. That was quickly dashed when Orion stepped out onto the ice and started a ways downstream before digging a claw into the ice. Orion returned with a happy look. “Ice appears thick enough for this time of year so we’re clear to cross.” Orion’s gaze turned to Xavier. “I’ll be going ahead being the heaviest and test the ice as we go along. Walk with Adonis. The staff will take care of your mare.”

Sure enough, everyone was bailing from the cart, one coming up on either side of the mare. The one that came to him offered their hand for the lead rope and he handed it over automatically. He missed its weight almost instantly.

Orion stepped out first, testing the ice every so often. Adonis offered Xavier a smile, asking, “Is this your first time on ice? You look nervous.”

So much for him pretending to be ok. He feigned it for a bit longer, though, offering with a weak smile. “No, I’ve been on ice before, but it was on more of a lake than a river.”

Adonis stepped out on the ice and it was a miracle he even followed suit. “Oh? How so?”

“There is a river that leads from Mjor Sea south of Merdic and it widens out at a point so much that the current is nearly undetectable and people call it Echo Lake. It freezes over in the winter but it’s not always thick enough to be on like it happens up here. We have to wait till it’s been cold for five days or so before anyone is allowed onto the ice. As soon as there is a warm day, the count starts over.”

“Why?”

Xavier was grateful for the partial distraction. They were almost halfway there, too. “We’re warmer, even if Merdic is nearly to Asteria’s borders, which means that our winters are far more mild. While Echo lake may freeze over, unless its been seriously cold, the ice is generally too thin to support much weight. We hardly get much snow as well. The constant white of an Asterian winter is bizarre to me still.”

“I can understand that.”

“Did you go out on the ice often?” Orion asked, bringing to light that he had been listening in. Xavier couldn’t really blame them. He hadn’t tried to make sure the conversation was private.

“It used to be a regular thing for all of Merdic until the incident when I was ten,” Xavier responded.

“Incident?” Adonis questioned.

Xavier explained, “One year after a really good amount of cold weather, Echo Lake had frozen over. Experienced markers went out to check the ice and deem it suitable for play and nearly the entire town showed up to play on the ice of the lake. Apparently it had been a rather mild winter up until that point and so it was treated as a sign that things were going to be ok. That was until the ice broke. No one is sure how or why the ice broke but it did sounding like thunder. A number of people - mostly kids - were sucked under the ice and drowned.A few lucky souls were freed from the ice before they could suffocate.”

Xavier realized they had come to a stop and anxiety clawed at his chest. Orion’s expression was unreadable as he asked, “And where were you when it happened?”

“On the ice,” he responded automatically, tightly. It seemed starting the story meant he was going to finish it whether he wanted to or not. “I had been one of the lucky ones sucked under. My dad did what he could to get the others but they had already been swept away by an unusually fast current.”

He squawked when he was suddenly picked up but he didn’t fight as Orion moved swiftly, Xavier’s face pressed into the other’s shoulder with Orion’s hand on the back of his head. He gripped at whatever he could to keep from falling even though Orion had a tight grip on him.

He was placed on his feet as soon as they were on solid land a few feet from the edge of the river. Xavier realized he was shaking when Orion didn’t let him go completely.

“Do you need to sit down or are you fine?” Orion asked, his voice low and full of concern.

“I, ah…I think sitting would probably be a wise idea,” he confessed. He watched Orion gesture for the cart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I would have this much of an issue.”

“Nonsense,” Orion countered, gently hefting him up onto the edge of the cart by his hip. Two staff members were there, hands on him to help. He smiled appreciatively at them as Orion continued, “Trauma is trauma. It will take time before you are able to be comfortable on the ice.”

Xavier nodded from where he settled in the cart. He had chosen an edge near the front, legs hanging off as he leaned on the lower railing. To his surprise, Orion walked next to the cart where Xavier was seated easily within reach. It made his stomach roll oddly and he tried not to think about what the gesture could mean. He rested his chin on his crossed arms, watching the trees pass by and occasionally watching Orion walking beside him.

“Where are we going?” he asked, paying attention for the first time to the fact that he had no idea.

“There’s an area of old growth some ways ahead of us.It’ll have the largest trees and it’ll mean we can cut down fewer,” Adonis responded from where he led the mare. “We’ll be planting a few seeds around the trunks we leave to help replenish what we take.”

Xavier looked to Orion. “Old tradition?”

Orion nodded. “All of Asteria practices it. For every tree cut down, a new one is planted. We try and go for the older trees so that the new growth has time to get stronger and, in turn, allowing the seedlings freshly planted time to grow around a solid stump that has thrived for so long.”

“It worked well, then?”

“Very,” Adonis confirmed. “The stump left behind helps support the seeds planted around it by offering safety from erosion as well as offering some form of nutrition. We’re not certain but we think that the new growth takes over the old growth’s root system.”

“Cool,” Xavier commented.

Orion gained his attention, his red pupils large and belaying his smile. “Very,” he agreed. “There’s also a surprise at the location we’re going to.”

“You’re familiar with the location?”

Orion nodded. “I used to hunt in these woods for food when I was fed up fighting what I had been turned into. I also know that Adonis is aware of the location and has been leading us to it for the same purpose.”

Adonis smiled at them over his shoulder. “I have no idea what he is talking about. I simply know where the old growth grove is located at.”

Orion snorted in amusement. Xavier couldn’t help his growing curiosity. “What’s so special about this area?”

Orion’s hand curled around the crown of Xavier’s head. “You’ll know it when you see it. We’re almost there.”

Xavier chuckled. He had expected that answer but it hadn’t hurt to try. Instead, it had gained him Orion’s touch as the other’s large hand settled on his back, Orion close enough to the cart now that Xavier could feel the heat coming off the other. He happily curled his hands into the fabric of Orion’s shirt under the edge of his coat.

Orion had been right, he did know what made the area so special as soon as they were at the edge of it.

He gasped.

It seemed the entire area was out of some legend. The trees were dusted white from snow as droplets of ice hung from any surface even remotely horizontal. Ice stalagmites dotted the grounds as the brush seemed frozen into place coated in a thick layer of frost. “How does this come about?”

“Specific circumstances,” Orion divulged cheekily and Xavier swatted at him, aware of that. “This area gets what’s called freezing rain rather regularly but the fauna is hardy enough to withstand it. The rain is still liquid as it falls but once it touches something, it freezes. Sometimes instantly, sometimes as it drips away.”

“This is gorgeous.”

Orion looked his way but he couldn’t pull his gaze from the ice crystals. The sun was cutting through the trees, illuminating the area in a cascade of rainbow colored light. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Breathtaking.”

He blinked and looked over but Orion’s gaze was on the scene, eyes belaying something Xavier couldn’t make out. Odd, it had sounded almost as if Orion had been commenting on something other than the scene before them. Maybe he was mishearing things.

The cart came to a stop silencing the sound of crunching ice and snow. Xavier clambered off, Orion coming to his side.

“Any trees that draw your attention?” Orion asked.

Xavier looked around, looking past the beauty to take in the trees. “They’re all pretty hardy here. Let’s see what the staff find and we’ll go from there.”

Orion nodded, following Xavier to Adonis’s side.

The staff found three trees that would work. Xavier looked each one over closely.

“All three?” Adonis asked when he returned, the staff member that had tailed him going to join the others.

Xavier shook his head. “The second is big enough that we won’t have to worry about cutting down more than one.”

“Which one?” Orion asked, walking over.

Adonis led the way, gesturing to the tree when the arrived. Orion circled it, gaining Xavier’s intrigue as Adonis inquired, “Will you need assistance?”

Orion shook his head even as he didn’t look away from the tree. “Where do you want it to fall?”

One of the staff came forward, marking the tree with a swing of an ax before scuttling away. Adonis grabbed Xavier’s arm and everyone backed away from Orion. Xavier frowned. Orion wasn’t about to do that on his own, was he?

It turned out he was and with no tools at that. With a bellow, Orion swiped at the tree once with both sets of claws at one and once with each talon set. The tree tipped and fell right where it had been intended.

Xavier looked wide-eyed at Adonis. “Where did he learn to do that?” He looked to Orion as the other approached him looking smug. “Where did you learn to do that?” he repeated, his awe palpable.

“You tend to learn a few things whether you want to or not,” Orion replied. “This was learnt out of frustration. As much as we follow the old traditions, sometimes having at a few trees is far better than having at people.”

Xavier could only nod to that.

[ArtisticVicu]

December 2017
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

Her breath hung in the cold air before her face, distorting her view for the brief moment it took for the cloud of warmed air to rise out of her line of sight. Her chest burned from sucking in the freezing air and even now she couldn’t quite get her breath to a normal state as she stared at him, watching him stand there staring at her in turn.

He was so far away.

“Please.” The word was beyond her lips without even thinking to speak. But with one word gone, the rest flooded out without restraint. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave.”

“I have to,” came the gruff, garbled reply.

She shook her head viciously, the amount of magic in the air growing the longer they stood so far apart. “No you don’t.” She reached out to him, eyes pleading. “Please. We’ll figure this out. You don’t have to go.”

He didn’t respond and this time the tears escaped as well when she shook her head again. “Don’t go.”

She was met with silence as she focused on his through the blur of tears. He was still staring at her. His jaw moved, a breath of his own curling out both sides of his mouth as she felt the sudden gathering of magic. She took a step forward, reaching for him as her eyes widened and she sucked in air.

“Wisps of fire calm the hearth, gentle breeze bring the cold, and let it snow.”

A gust of wind and a flurry of snow slammed into her as she screamed, “Elias!”

“Sister?”

She gasped, jerking upright in some toxic blend of emotions, her head whipping around. Her brain registered she was in her bedroom. Her twin brother had a knee on the edge of the mattress as he leaned towards her hands out stretched but not touching her. She knew that it had been a dream - a memory - but her heart was still pounding and the tears were still streaming.

The magic in the room slowly dissipated at the same rate she started returning to reality.

His hands were calloused from their line of work but his touch was gentle as he finally deemed it alright to touch her. She sagged at his touch and gave into the sobs choking her. He caught her and held her close, waiting it out like he always did and guilt ate at her just as much as the sorrow did.

The hot cup of tea felt nice in her hands but she had yet to take a drink. It was her favorite kind, too. Instead, she watched the steam rise from the cup still too caught up in a long forgotten memory to be able to function properly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was soft, gentle, encouraging. She looked up, feeling raw. She shook her head no and he nodded, understanding. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He made no move to leave his chair at the table, a cup of tea in his own hands, though he was drinking his. She looked down at her cup, berating herself for not doing the same but being unable to muster the energy to lift the mug from her hands.

It was almost like she had slept while staring at the cup because when her brother removed the cold drink from her hands, she felt like she was waking up all over again. This time, though, she simply sat back, looking around and finally taking everything in proper. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked to her brother. He had a smile on his face, their face. “Good morning, Sister. I’m glad you’ve finally woken up. Would you like a fresh cup and some food? I was thinking pancakes.”

She loved his pancakes and felt a little coerced into the decision but she couldn’t say no to that. “Yes please,” she responded instead.

Business as usual as soon as breakfast was over. They had the wayward guests like they normally did and they tended to them as they normally would. She returned to being her normal, snarky self, that is, till there was a visitor at the door she never expected to see.

The door opened and before she could even give the customary greeting, her eyes met the eyes of someone oh so familiar. “Oh, no,” she snapped, rage suddenly filling her out of nowhere. “No. You have no right coming to me looking for services after what you did to me. No. Go find another magical surgeon. This office is closed.”

“Please.” She froze, door nearly closed as an unfamiliar yet so familiar voice rushed through the crack. “I can’t….I can’t lose her Destiny. Not like this. Not after everything I’ve learned and she’s gone through. Please. I can’t do this on my own.”

She jerked back, hand pressed to her chest. She blinked, finding that it had been her twin to cover her hand on the doorknob. He gave her a gentle smile before opening the door fully. “We know, Elias,” he soothed. “Give my sister a moment. I’ll show you where you can put her down.”

Her eyes finally landed on the body their guest was carrying. She glared at her brother and he shrugged.

“Are you sure about this?” she questioned one last time.

“Yes,” he responded with the same surety as the other times she had asked.

She sighed, catching sight of her brother tending to the girl laying in the middle of the chalked circle. “Fully aware of all the consequences?”

“Yes.” He sounded resigned on the matter.

He didn’t expect to come out of this alive. She let out a sigh, unable to not wish for his safe passage through the ritual as well. “Fine. Get into position. We’ll see just how much you’ve changed.”

“Thank you.”

She glanced back but he was already moving. Strange. It almost sounded like he truly felt relief and gratitude for her actions. But that wasn’t possible.

Was it?
“Here.”

He looked up from the book in his hand to the box neatly wrapped in colorful paper proffered to him. He caught her gaze and her smile grew, gesturing with the gift. “Take it. It’s not going to burst into flames or anything.”

A smirk curled his lips upwards as he took it, countering, “I doubt that, seeing as just yesterday you caused numerous boxes of varying sizes to combust.”

Her laughter rang through the room, light and addicting as he slipped his finger under a seam of paper. He took his time, careful to not tear the paper. As much as she enthused that he do so, he liked reusing the paper rather than simply shredding it, not that it stopped her any.

Another thing on the list of things he adored about her.

The box itself was simple and rather common. Bound shut by twine, the knot was easy to undo and the lid slid off without trouble. What was inside, though, was anything but ordinary.

He stared at it in shock, unable to formulate words to react.

After a while, she broke the silence.

“I know it’s nothing like what you had described or anything,” she confessed, though her voice was steady and sure. He knew she was watching him but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the sphere nestled in the depths of blue fabric. “In fact, I’m certain it’s too small but anything bigger wouldn’t have worked well on a chain.”

Finally, finally, he was able to look away from the gift to take in the confirmation that there was indeed an undertone of doubt to her words when it came to the gift and how he was receiving it. He dropped the box into the chair as he stood, reaching for her with his free hand to pull her close. He kissed her, pinning her to his chest as he wrapped one arm around her waist and buried his other hand in her hair. He felt her still just as equally as he felt her relax into the kiss. He tried to kiss away her doubt and knew it wouldn’t be enough,

He pulled away, their breaths coming out in soft puffs as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Thank you, Angel,” he urged, the words grey compared to what he was feeling. “Thank you so much.”

“So, you like it?” she asked, her voice soft, wary almost, yet heartbreakingly hopeful. Stars above she really had been thinking he didn’t like it.

“I love it,” he gushed, pulling back enough to look at her proper. “I can’t even articulate just how much this gift means to me. How did you even get something like it made in this world?”

She was relaxing in his hold and he knew the doubt she held was vanishing. She smiled. “A glass sculpture wanted to repay me for something that I felt needed no payment so we came to a compromise. They offered to make it life sized, which would have made the payment more equal in their eyes, but I figured if you liked it a lot, you’d want to keep it close. In turn, they called in someone that worked with metal to create the clasp and chain so that there was no fear of it breaking under normal circumstances.”

“It’s perfect,” he breathed, turning enough to reach for the box without letting her go. He pulled it close and grabbed the small sphere. The blue fabric that had been tucked around it looked expensive and fluttered as it came with for a short ride before pooling about the box, freeing the silver chain that was attached to the glass. Upon closer inspection, the loop for the chain was a dragon’s front foot holding tight to the glass sphere and it made the trinket all that more special to him. She took it from him long enough to latch the chain around his neck.

The sphere certainly wasn’t like the originals it was based off and he felt that made it even grander. The small sphere was full of stars that littered the cloud that had been captured within the glass. While the cloud itself was made up of oranges, yellows, and reds, the stars were white and bright against it, hews of blue and green edging the white stars only making them stand out more. The silver dragon claw did nothing to obscure the bobble even as he looked down at it. He touched it with ginger fingers before her hand covered his.

He gripped her fingers, catching her gaze again. “Why?” Confusion and curiosity displayed gently on her face and he elaborated. “Why this? Why now?”

Understanding widened her eyes. She smiled gently. “We’ve been here for three years now. This world’s holidays are upon us soon and, since the traditions around here are still unfamiliar, I figured I’d keep with the ones I learned back home.”

“So this is a gift for…”

“Our anniversary.” He blinked at her, still not getting it. He even opened his mouth to counter her words but she was laughing. “I know, I know. Our actual anniversary isn’t for a couple of months but the anniversary of our arrival here and our first meeting was just a few days ago; though, I could be off by a week or two.” She shrugged and he watched the doubt slowly return again. “I just figured it would be nice to keep remembering where we came from and where we’re still going.”

He kissed her lips briefly before peppering her face in kisses. She was normally so strong willed and fearless that seeing this doubt was unnerving. But, then, ever since they started truly being in a relationship together, he was certain they were both showing colors that weren’t normally seen. “You do realize that I have no gift for you,” he pointed out between a couple of kisses. “And I really don’t want to be shown up on an anniversary gift.”

She chuckled and the smirk on her face told greatly of how well she knew him. He didn’t back down from challenges and, though her following words were to placate, it only increased his desire to get her something equally as valued as the trinket hanging around his neck. “Oh please. You could make me dinner and walk with me under the starlight and it would be equal enough.”

She wasn’t wrong and gave him several great ideas. She wasn’t one for trinkets or objects like most people were. She preferred practical things or meaningful time spent together, and already he knew how he was going to celebrate their first meeting. He smirked in turn, challenging, “How would you feel about calling in to work for a few days.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing,” he practically sang as he kissed her nose. “Happy holidays, babe.”

She swatted at his arm as he moved away. “Happy holidays,” was her snarky reply, though her words were more honest than her tone.
“Neryk.”

His head came round, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes locked onto the figure at the other end of the room. The energy in the room surged about as they instinctually reached out to each other, meeting for the first time since they had been bonded without their consent.

“Kylo,” he breathed, emotions choking him and too potent for him to make sense of. He took a step forward and the other mirrored him. Another, and another, until they were running at each other eating up the distance between them faster and faster till he was forced to skid to a stop, braced as their bodies collided painfully.

He couldn’t breathe from the collision but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He held on as tight as he could, Kylo’s arms crushing him in turn. He pulled back and it was like they were one as Kylo mirrored him. Their lips clashed as Neryk buried a hand into the black locks at the back of Kylo’s head, and everything was right in the world.

He didn’t know how long it was till they separated but he was breathing heavily, his cheeks wet from tears of joy or sorrow - he didn’t know anymore. Kylo’s cheeks were equally streaked and the first laugh came from the other. It was echoed over their bond and Neryk found it contagious, his laughter ringing off the walls with Kylo’s as they clung to each other again.

“We can’t stay here,” Kylo spoke in the silence. Neryk finally registered they had been standing there for far longer than they had time for. It hurt – physically hurt – to pull away from Kylo. After so long not being able to make their Bind complete, having it was overwhelming and he didn’t want to move away, irrationally fearing that should they separate, their connection would cease to exist. “We have to stick to the plan.”

Neryk buried his hands into Kylo’s hair even as he agreed. “I’ll make sure you don’t face her on your own. She’ll most likely bring more than just me.”

Kylo leaned in. Neryk met him half way and their lips collided. This time, this kiss, was far softer, far more loving, and any doubt that had been seeded into either of their souls that they would ever be separated by anything other than death left them both. Kylo broke the kiss, his lips ghosting over Neryk’s and it took everything for him to not close that thin gap as Kylo’s intent rolled across their bond. “A kiss for good luck.”

Neryk closed the gap but only for a brief moment. “A kiss for good luck,” he agreed, pressing their foreheads together one last time, memorizing how Kylo’s energy rolled against his own and blended so purely when they were so close together. He took the first step back, allowing Kylo to remain strong and steadfast. He was going to need that and Neryk sent Kylo encouragement, love, and strength over their bond without trying. He saw the effect roll through Kylo, the tension leaving as he stood taller. Neryk smiled gently. “See you soon.”

Kylo dipped his head, love flooding their bond. “See you soon.”

It was like he blinked and Kylo was gone from the room. But even as the distance between them lengthened, the feeling of Kylo never lessened and Neryk found his fingers curling into the fabric over his chest where he felt Kylo the strongest. Bound so strongly by mind before their Bind was properly started, Neryk found himself easily split between what Kylo was seeing and what he was seeing.

He couldn’t tell if the fear he was feeling was his own or Kylo’s. Or was it both of them fearing the same thing?

They were in the middle of a war with a fresh Bind expected by those around them to fight with the intent of killing the other for the greater good of either side. Would one of them die so shortly after their Bind was solidified? Would they both make it out of this – exiled or not – only to succumb to something else so soon?

There was no way of telling what was going to happen to them or to anyone they cared about. There was no way of knowing where all this was headed and Neryk raised his chin high as he entered the space she was waiting for him in. Sure enough, her two closest friends were there, the three of them connected through the most unlikeliest of people yet the three of them had become inseparable. Would the Fates be kind to them as well or will one of them actually die this time? Would they be granted mercy and be taken from this world together?

He gave a nod to her, taking solace in the comfort and love being sent his way from Kylo. He tried to hide his guilt of taking away from Kylo but the flood of love and reassurance had him feeling like he was drowning. It was clear that Kylo saw it as a partnership, as them supporting each other, and had no qualms with Neryk being a mild distraction from his own fears and worries. Neryk smiled softly, not caring if anyone saw as he sent love and devotion right back with as much strength as he could muster and their love mingled in the midst of the connection.

Their Bind only grew stronger.

Their battlefield had been chosen for them. Neryk could hear Kylo’s mental cursing at getting caught too soon and Neryk sent reassurance over their bond. They would be fine, they could work with this.

Except they couldn’t.

And Neryk found himself suddenly on the wrong side of the battlefield, her weapon buried in his side as Kylo screamed his name. The pain and anguish in that one word was only multiplied as it crossed over the bond they shared as he crashed to his knees. She withdrew, the look on her face a blend of emotions that boded nothing good.

He couldn’t fight back. There was nothing close to defend himself with and he quietly accepted his Fate as she raised her weapon.

Kylo’s screaming and the flood of love and desperation filled his mind as he closed his eyes, waiting.

Neryk opened his eyes to find himself lying on the cold floor, Kylo above him crying. The relief drowned him as much as it did Kylo and the tears quickly turned from sadness to joy as Kylo kissed him.

It stole his breath away.

When he opened his eyes afterwards, he felt groggy and still in a ton of pain, but he was alive, he was breathing, and, from the looks of it, so were all in the trio. She was being talked down by her two companions, both of which were restraining her. He could feel her energy rolling around them, touching the natural energy in the air and stirring it to do her bidding. With Kylo’s aid, Neryk reached out his own energy and soothed hers and what was in the air. The peace that followed the act stilled everyone. He felt the turmoil leave Kylo for a moment and the quiet over their bond and around them was euphoric.

[ArtisticVicu]

January 2018
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

Their breaths curled before their faces as they entered through the portal, the only light granted to them coming from the event horizon they had just entered through. Metal glistened all around them. It seemed even time could not tarnish the interior structure of the vessel. Their footfall echoes in the expansive space but, instead of being haunting as it had once been, all present found comfort in a sound they never believed they would hear again.

A single body broke away from the group, crossing towards one of two podiums at the opposite end of the room. Their breath curled before their face as shaky as the breath itself had been. The figure glanced up to sweep a gaze over the growing crowd before focusing on the podium before them.

It was a console of sorts angled to keep the glare of the portal from obscuring the screen that filled the majority of the surface. Buttons were on either side but the figure didn’t touch a single one. Instead, they pressed their hand carefully to the screen, fingers splayed across the freezing cold surface. “Audio command input, login code delta-omega-1-4-5-7-2-6. Activate protocol 1-7-5-alpha-romeo-0-india-papa.”

The screen came to life as a voice echoed through the room. The figure removed their hand from the screen. “Audio command inputs recognized. Initializing atmosphere control,” there was the sound of rushing air as the lights came on, “and returning power to all designated systems. Welcome back on board.”

“Thank you, Ode,” the figure replied softly, watching as the console started filling with information.

“I never thought I would ever appreciate Ode’s heating system till just this minute,” a voice called from the crowd. There was a spattering of chuckles as people filled the space; some sat against the walls or on crates while others stood about as the rest of their community came through the portal. All were chatting away happily, working as one cohesive group to make sure everyone arrived without a problem.

“Anything to be concerned about?”

The figure looked up to the two men approaching, focusing on the one that spoke. “Thankfully no. All systems are operational and the work we’ve done has held out. The ship’s in no worse for wear.”

“Good,” the man replied, looking to his companion. “Any particular place you want to hit first?”

“Our rooms would be nice,” the other commented, the hint of an almost abolished accent curling the words. The slight curl to the man’s lips spoke of the humor the line had been spoken out of. “I feel like a pack mule.”

The first laughed, the sound low, rich, and carrying with ease. “True.” The man looked back at the figure. “You know where to find us.”

The figure nodded, verifying as the men started to walk away, “I’m clear to start getting people to work as needed?”

“Just make sure they have a chance to stop by their rooms,” the man confirmed, limping alongside his companion.

A solid collided with the figure’s hip and leg as a new person approached. “Easy, Luca,” the approaching male chastised even with a smile on their face. “No need to go barreling into him.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the figure countered pleasantly, reaching down and hefting the pre-teen up onto their hip. “Got my attention, didn’t it?”

The child’s string of giggles gained a few amused and joyous glances and the figure smiled. “Yeah,” the child squeaked between giggles.

The male sighed, though the amusement had yet to leave their face. Stepping closer, the male curled their hand around the back of the figure’s head, gently pressing their foreheads together. “We made it home,” the male sighed.

“That we did,” the figure agreed, leaning into the touch as long as it lasted, the child’s head resting against their neck. The figure pulled away and transferred the child to the male, neither voicing complaint. “Which means that there’s work to be done. Go see if there’s space enough for the school.”

A brief kiss and the pair was walking away. The figured watched till they were out of sight before turning back to those that still resided in the space. “Alright. Go ahead and drop off personal belongings. If you don’t have a room, coordinate with Ellen to find one. When that’s done, if you remember what your role was when we were here last, pick that up again. Old ranks still apply. Those that were not with us or cannot remember stay in the communal area. We’ll find a place for you.”

The silence was almost deafening as the figure took a breath. “This is just like our last home. There are always tasks to do and everyone helping makes light work of every task. But back here means that certain skills need to be touched upon once more and a large number of us are rusty, myself included.” There was a round of chuckles. “And don’t any of you worry. This is still our home. We’ll settle right back into it. It’ll just take time.”

The crowd started to move about, the figure’s words done. Over the buzz of conversation, the figure shot off a quick order. “Anything for the store rooms can either be left here or taken to the proper store room. If you don’t know what that is, don’t move it. Place items for a given store room outside the door. We’ll be about to catalogue how much of what is going where.”

Several crates and containers got shuffled around but a majority got left in place. A few personnel approached the figure and things were set into motion.

An hour later, the portal closed and what counted as normalcy for a spacecraft was slowly returning to those familiar with the vessel’s workings.

The figure entered the bridge, finding a few people already there.

“Everything going well?”

The figure’s gaze landed on the male duo that had first approached the console, specifically on the one that had the limp. “Store rooms are being catalogued and filled as we speak. Mechanics are bustling about running checks on the kitchen and living quarters. Engineers are looking over what we had done last to see how the repairs had lasted as well as locations we had previously marked. They’re set to giving me a prioritized list of what sections need focus in the coming days.”

“Good.”

The other man stepped forward. “And the Ode’s databases?”

“Untouched, as is the data that you had requested for Ode to gather in our absence.” The figure smiled softly. “We’ve got quite the work ahead of us, Doc. We were gone quite some time.”

The man nodded, eyes bright in anticipation. “That we were. She’s seem to have handled our absence well, though.”

“That she has.” The figured focused on the first man. “There’s a survey crew out right now checking the hull. We’ll be clear to move when they return.”

The man nodded. “Keep me in the loop.”

It wasn’t till another two hours had passed till a pleasant chime rang through the common areas, a voice following shortly after. “Countdown to jump initiated. T. minus 5 minutes.”

The figure looked up to stare at the ceiling briefly before actually standing. “I’m going to go take Luca to the observation deck, Doc. Let the Colonel know so that he doesn’t fret when I don’t arrive.”

There was a noncommittal hum from the lead scientist and the figure chuckled, taking the moment to send a message to the lead scientist’s companion before turning his console off. The figure found the preteen with the same male on the observation deck. It was a bit crowded, what with so many looking to see the first jump to occur after so long planet side. The figure scooped up the child, gaining a screech that quickly shattered into giggles and laughter. Several other children were running about making a ruckus so such a friendly assault went without complaint from others.

Settling the child on a hip, the figure reached out for the male, quickly gaining the other’s hand. With fingers intertwined, the figure settled the child on the railing, making sure to keep an arm looped around the child’s waist. “Ready to see this for the first time, Luca?” the figure asked, pressing a kiss to soft hair.

The child nodded, the movement subdued as large eyes focused on the window. “How much longer?”

“T. minus 10 seconds.”

A hush settled over the room as people shifted to allow those that had never seen this occur before to move closer to the railing. Children clambered all over the railing with parental units within reaching distance. All eyes shifted to the window as the last few seconds went unspoken in the room.





3











2

















1
He had been told about dragons, how it had been an honor to become the Binded of a dragon. It was an old tradition, one that was no longer practiced. Kind of hard to keep a tradition going when the main object of the tradition vanished.

No one ever told him what had happened to all the dragons.

The whistle hanging around his neck on a fraying cord was as heavy as his thoughts.

No one ever told him what it meant to burden a bonded whistle.

The fire snapped, drawing his gaze from wherever it had settled. He watched the flames dance about, watching as the darkness slowly encroached on the source of light.

He remembered when he had been a kid and had been terrified of the dark. He wasn’t sure how well he had hid it from his family as he grew older, but the fear certainly hadn’t vanished. It had been manageable on the journey across the ocean. When they touched land again, though, the fear had reared its nasty head with a vengeance.

A foreign land with foreign creatures and it took everything he had to convince himself that the eyes in the dark were nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Honestly, he could understand a child fearing the dark and thinking they see eyes staring at them at the edge of their vision in the dark. It was another thing for a fully grown adult to still fear the same thing.

There was a low rumble from behind him that he felt in his bones. He blinked, focusing his gaze above the flickering flames. A large, golden eye stared at him from where the dragon’s head rested on the other side of the camp fire. “What troubles you?” the voice asked, accompanied by the same, low rumble from behind him.

He offered a weak smile. “Thoughts of the past.” He shrugged, dropping his gaze back to the fire. “They’re not as troubling as they are exhausting.”

A different rumble, one he had long since learned was the dragon chuckling. “Is that so? And yet you choose not to share them with me.”

The smirk was involuntary. “I’m not used to sharing all my thoughts and secrets with another, let alone a dragon.”

Said dragon raised its head, staring down at him with a pair of burning, golden eyes. He pretended not to notice.

“You are my Whistle and I am your Dragon,” the dragon spoke. “If we cannot trust each other in such situations, how are we to trust each other in moments that matter most.” The massive dragon nose pushed against his side, shoving him so far over that he nearly ended up overbalanced and falling onto the ground. “I am not going anywhere and you know as well as I do that what you tell me will not be shared with others without your permission.” The dragon huffed, looking affronted. He still marveled at how expressive the dragon was, what with how massive it was at the same time. “I have lived for far too many centuries to care what others think should I retain information from them.”

He hummed, leaning back. “I tend to forget you’re ancient.”

The dragon shoved at him with his nose, this time pushing him into the dirt; he laughed the entire way down as the dragon chastised, “I am not ancient, you are the babe.”

There’s a grin on the dragon’s face as the hot breath washed over him. His laughter subsided into chuckles. The dragon had yet to remove its nose from his front, keeping him pinned without putting much weight on him. He reached up, rubbing at the scales he could touch, tracing scars from battles he knew not of.

“I was thinking of an old fear of mine,” he spoke softly into the quiet around them, “of how it’s still there on some level.”

“What fear?” the dragon asked gently, voice so low it was almost lost under the dragon’s natural rumble.

“I used to fear the dark.” He wasn’t paying much attention to what was in front of him but he didn’t need to. The dragon’s presence against his front was enough to keep him grounded in the moment, to remind him that he was safe. “But more than that, I feared what the dark hid, of the eyes I could feel watching me even when there were no eyes there to perceive me in the dark.”

“And now?”

The smile that graced his lips was soft, warm. “I still fear what I cannot see, of what the dark may hide, but it’s not as crippling as it had once been. It had slowly diminished when I was traveling with the dwarves and halfling, able to take solace in the fact that they had my back and would keep the dangers at bay to the best of their ability.” He chuckled but it was breathy and far more sad than he had intended it to be. “Then there were the few nights that held so much fear and stress that even the company’s presence was not enough to keep my fears at bay. And at one point, I feared the eyes in the dark to be some dragon I did not know looking to take back a whistle that I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up anymore.”

He wasn’t sure what the responding rumble was and it didn’t matter as the dragon asked, “And when you met me?”

He pressed his hand into the scales, curling his fingers enough to gently scrape his nails against the unforgiving skin. “I stopped fearing you once it was clear you were bound to the whistle I had been entrusted with. Before that, I was terrified that you would kill me on the spot but that is only natural, after all.” He blinked and focused on the golden gaze staring down at him. “As soon as I was Bound to you, I started looking for the eyes in the dark because I knew they would be your eyes making sure I was safe and protected against anything the dark could throw at us, just as I would do everything in my power to make sure you remain alive to see our homelands once more.”

There was a pause and, for a moment, he wondered if his words had been taken the wrong way. He needn’t have worried as the dragon shifted closer around him, its warm breath rushing over his face. “I am content with wherever we go, my Whistle, even if we never leave the dwarven mountain again.”

He laughed weakly. “As much as I would love to remain, I fear we would be nothing more than burdens, my Dragon. Besides, I must make sure my brother and his Charge returned home and hopefully safely, if nothing else.” His words stilled as he returned to rubbing what scales he could reach. “I would love to see more of the world as well before settling anywhere specific, if we ever do.” His expression turned sad. “To you, our homeland would be foreign yet similar and a part of me fears the same thing for myself. I am so used to the world here that returning home seems like returning to a foreign land while traveling through time. I want an excuse to leave, to return to the familiar and to explore the unknown.” He pressed his hand into the scales, swallowing thickly. “I don’t want to chain you to the ground just yet.”

The resulting rumble was loud and quaked his very core. It was soothing, reassuring, and so full of what he could only describe as pleasure that he found that his fears and trepidations with the future vanished for the moment.

“I am glad to hear such words,” the dragon informed him. “It means I don’t have to regret accepting you as my Whistle.”

He smiled, though it was tired. “I hope I can hold true under the burden, my Dragon.”

There was another rumble, though it was softer. The dragon lifted its head from his front but simply rested on the other side of the fire. There was the sound of shifting and he didn’t even need to look to know that the dragon and encircled the little camp. “Sleep, my Whistle. I will make sure that the dark is kept at bay.”

His smile grew endearing as his eyes closed themselves. “I know.” He rolled onto his side, pressing his forehead against scales and enjoying the warmth of his dragon to his front and the warmth of the fire to his back. “Thank you.”

Another rumble, this one soft and nearly obscuring the even softer words.

“You’re welcome, quod mea.”
He let his hand ghost over her large belly, giddy with happiness. He kissed her temple, muttering against her skin, “You ready to be a parent?”

She laughed, pushing at his shoulder but not with enough force to truly send him away. “About as ready as you are. You forget I have to push the damn baby out.”

He hummed as if he was thinking about it, nuzzling her hair. “True. There is always the option of a c-section.”

This time her laugh was sharper. “Yeah. Not if my doctor has any say in it.”

He smiled against her hair. “We could already change doctors.”

“When I’m due any day now?” she asked in disbelief. He grinned but she couldn’t see it. She must have felt it, though, because she slapped his shoulder again. He felt her ready to speak but their little moment was broken by the shrill sound of his phone going off. With a heavy sigh, he pulled away and reached over for the device.

They both sat upright in the bed. Or, at least, as upright an expecting mother looking ready to pop could. He accepted the call and held the phone to his ear, running a hand through her hair. “Morgan.”

Her expression closed off. He only answered like that if it was work related and he shot her an apologetic smile.

“One last job for you and your boys, Captain,” the voice of his superior spoke, regret heavy on the line. “I know you’re wife is expecting but this is coming from over my head. They chose you and I did what I could to fight it.”

“It’s alright, Sir,” he lied. “What’s the job? How long?”

“Retrieval mission, in and out in two days.” He looked to her, her gaze curious now. He turned the volume up on the call just a bit more, pulling the phone from his ear so she could hear more clearly. “It’s more of an escort, really. You’ll be retrieving a personnel and bringing them home.”

He frowned. “One of ours, Sir?”

“No. Someone important from nearby. All we know is that they had gone out as a scout and got stuck near us.”

He cupped her cheek, ghosting his thumb over the ridge of her cheekbone. “And you said no more than two days?”

“Should take you less than 24 hours in all honesty but the boys up top wanted me to give the buffer.”

“The due date’s next week,” her soft voice whispered, drawing his attention.

He moved the receiver away, offering just as softly, “But the doc said you could be early. If I leave, I may not be here for you.”

“But someone has to be there for whoever is lost,” she urged, his superior’s voice calling out to him from the phone. “Take it and I’ll see you in two days.”

He returned the phone to his ear, asking as he held her gaze, “Where are we being sent, Sir?”

“Southwest near Mournant Peak.”

He caught his dismay being echoed in her face. He pressed a bit more into her cheek. “Sir, that’s all forest and canyon. Unless we’ve got specific coordinates, it’s going to be a search and rescue mission that’ll take more than a day.”

“There is an approximation of where this person’s location should be. I’m told they shouldn’t be hard to find. Besides, they’re giving you the green light to take whatever tech and creatures you want.”

He was shocked to hear that, as was she, apparently. He turned, almost as if he could see his superior through the device against his ear. “Are you sure, Sir? I’m just a lowly park ranger. I don’t have–”

“You get clearance for this one time, Captain. Apparently it’s imperative this person is brought home safe and alive.”

She was nodding at him; for what, he wasn’t sure but he moved his hand to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Alright. I’ll be in in a few. You calling my crew for me?”

“Already have men getting to it. Tell the Missus that I’m sorry for this.”

He smiled when she waved his superior off. “She says she’ll be ok. Take care, Sir.”

“You too, Captain. See you in an hour.”

The line went dead and he put the phone down. He captured her lips for a chaste kiss, asking, “You sure you’re ok with this?”

“Yes I’m sure,” she chastised, though her expression was soft. “Besides, gives me an excuse to go see my brother. He’ll be less likely to fret about me and my health what with two kids of his own.”

“Alright.” He kissed her forehead. “You gonna call him soon, then, or do you want me to drop you off?”

She gave him a gentle shove with both hands, smiling. “I’ll call as soon as you leave. Now get going. You have a job to get to and a wife and unborn child to get back to.”

He laughed. "Alright, alright." He kissed her cheek. "I'll be back before the baby's born."

"You promise?" she asked, sounding to fragile, so timid for an instant.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I promise."

He arrived at the station to see that most of his team was there and nearly ready to go. He changed into the more durable ranger uniform, checking to make sure his tracking chip was undamaged and secure. He checked through the gear they were given and went through the secondary bag he had brought from home. It was much smaller but he had learned that sometimes a backup that wasn’t going to weigh you or others down was better than having to decide what to ditch later down the road.

A spare thermal blanket, spare clothing in a waterproof bag, emergency rations, a water purification kit, and a tarp with rope were tucked into the waterproof, mostly tear-proof bag that he put on before throwing his actual pack onto his back. With where they were going, the gear they had was meant to keep them for 72 hours through the terrain they would be dropped in. With the canyon and the mountain range they were in, he had requested climbing gear and grav-repels. As much as tech was useful, he and his team kept to the old ways of climbing and repelling even as they used the grav-repels. None of them were taking the chance of a grav-repel going out and they subsequently lose their grip and fall to their death.

It was also why he was taking several enlru. An enlru was a primate that looked like a cross between a snow cat and a lemur. They were highly intelligent and easily trained if done correctly, and they were far more in tune with the mountains he and his team were about to enter than any other trained animal they had at their disposal. Not even search canine would be of use and there was the chance that they would have to traverse terrain that creatures with hooves would not be able to climb. Enlru had retractable claws and prehensile tails, making them excellent climbing partners and able to keep close to whoever was their handler without added rope.

There were three going with them. As they flew towards the location, he looked over the file and frowned at how little was in it.

“We gonna be alright, Captain?” one of his rangers asked.

He looked up, the sound of the shuttle’s quiet hum registering in the lack of voices. He nodded. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. We’ll set up camp at the pickup location and send out the five drones we have. We’ll start a foot search once we’ve found signs of our person.”

His squad nodded. They were used to this, though probably not to the level they were doing it. Animal and technical support like this was so rare, he had only ever been on one mission and that had been as a rookie so many years ago. Hopefully this one went far smoother than that one did.

They were at the pickup location and sending drones out within the hour. It took them less than that to find their person. Apparently whoever was stuck out there hadn’t wandered far from the initial location they had been given, not that they had much of a choice. They had a clear visual on the person stranded on a cliff side on a ledge a shy too low from the walking path to get back up to. He took a few with him, telling those that remained to keep an eye on both the weather and them.

They got to the spot rather easily and he helped the young man up onto the walking path. While he was a young man by age, he looked far more like a kid than an adult and he patted said kid on the shoulder.

“You alright there?”

The kid nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“How long were you stuck there?” one of the others asked as they started the trek back.

“Just over a day,” the kid replied, shrugging. He frowned. Why was a kid acting all nonchalant about being stuck on a cliff ledge for over 24 hours? When he had been the same age, he hadn’t been on nearly half as long and it had traumatized him.

He caught sight of the kid’s long ears through the messy, dark curls and took in the outfit the kid was wearing. “Agir?” he asked, curious. The file hadn’t said anything about their person being an Agir.

“Yeah, from Meca.”

The entire group looked on in awe. Last he had heard of the Mecan Agir was that they had gone underground. Not literally, seeing as Agir were known woodfolk in the surrounding areas, but one could never be too sure.

“Is it true you’ve guys gone underground?” the only rookie asked.

He smacked said rookie but the Agirian laughed. “Not completely. We live in the cliff sides as our ancestors did.”

Aw, so that was why the kid was so nonchalant about the whole matter. Being stuck on a cliff side truly was no big deal.

“You knew help was coming?” he asked, drawing the Agirian’s gaze to him.

The Agirian nodded. “I had been out exploring on my own and had given a time when I would return. I figured it would take longer than the day, to be honest.” The smile that graced the kid’s face was serene. “I’m glad it didn’t take longer than a day. There is a storm coming.”

He glanced at the two enlru with them. Both were alert. Something was definitely coming as his phone blipped with a message, repeating the Agirian’s words.

The storm came out of nowhere.

They had know it had been building but not even those watching the weather could have anticipated the storm coming in so quickly. Even the Agirian was taken aback by its swiftness.

At first they were managing just fine, tying a rope between all the personnel, but the sudden storm was dropping too much rain and the ground gave out beneath him and the Agirian.

Their decent was jerked to a stop as the three above found footing against the pull on the rope. They started pulling the duo back up but the rope snagged, frayed, and snapped, sending him and the Agirian into the raging river below. Tied together, they were thrown this way and that through the roaring water.

It was the Agirian that caught purchase on the cliff walls. His hands were already bloody from attempting to do the same.

They had lucked out. The Agirian had caught the edge of a small cave that barely fit both of them. Soaking wet and with little room to do much, he pulled out the two thermal blankets he had and tucked them around the both of them hoping their shared body heat would warm them up beyond the cold spray of water and wet clothes. He pulled out some bandages and wrapped his hands before digging out the pair of gloves he had for climbing and shoved his freezing fingers into the leathery fabric.

They did warm up a bit but their clothes were still damp when the water rose high enough to start flooding their cave. He set the Agirian to folding the blankets as he worked to get the climbing gear ready. He had a second harness that he helped the Agirian into. It was awkward with the tight space but the harnesses were necessary. He clipped a grav-repel to the back of his harness before securing one to the back of the Agirian's. The Agirian frowned at him but he shook his head. "I have four, which would be the proper number for us to have two a piece, but the weather it too turbulent for us to be weightless. One grav-repel will make it so that we don't weigh quite so much but won't be swept away with the storm."

"Then I lead," the Agirian stated, determined. "I grew up on the cliff side. I know how to find the route of least resistance."

He nodded, offering his hand with a smile. "Then I guess it's time we were equally aquainted. Zander Morgan."

The Agirian took his hand grinning. "Petra Ischyrós."

Petra went out first, hands finding purchase as Zander pulled on his newly packed pack. He followed right behind Petra, noting where the other's hands and feet went. Sometimes Petra would do some feat that Zander knew he couldn't do so a second grav-repel was added to his harness and he let Petra pull him upward in those instances. They made good distance before the storm became too much. Petra changed their angle of ascent and found a ledge that held both a cave and what looked like some path. Zander deactivated his grav-repel and felt odd having so much weight again. It quickly grew too dark for them to even progress and Zander started undoing his larger pack. The lantern was turned on and the pair huddled under thermal blankets around it after laying out their wet clothes to dry in the back of the cave.

"So how did you end up so far from home?"

Petra shrugged, watching the storm outside. "I was part of a group asked to come share knowledge with the Agir of these lands at a sort of council. While most other races don't care to know about the Agirian culture, we as a culture find pride in sharing what we learn in the different habitats. You would be surprised how often the knowledge is useful in some way despite the habitat differences."

Zander smiled. "I'm sure."

His phone beeped and he blinked. He had forgotten he had it on him as he pulled it out of a pocket of his still damp clothes. He was rather surprised it hadn't died yet. "I'm impressed this thing's lasted. I would have sworn the dip would have done something to it."

"The tech nowadays is made to be elemental resistant, right?"

Zander hummed. "Most of the time, but I've never had much luck with tech."

He tapped the screen awake only to stare at the date and time displayed.

"Zander?"

He looked up, meeting Petra's confused gaze. "We're going into day two."

"What?"

Zander passed over his phone as he clarified, "It's midnight. We're going into the second day of your rescue."

Petra passed the phone back, offering, "You also have a message."

He swiped at the screen and found his way to his messages. He paled. "My wife's gone into labor."

Petra perked up at that. "You have a kid coming?"

Zander nodded, changing to a different screen but the message wouldn't send. He lacked the needed reception. "Yeah. Was due a week from today but my wife looked ready to pop a month ago." He tossed the phone into the nearest pack, continuing, "She made me promise to be back before the baby was born." He buried a hand in his tangled hair. "So much for keeping that worthless promise."

"Unless we make it back in time."

Zander looked over at Petra, the kid's gaze determined. Zander smiled at him. "If the storm lets up, sure. But I don't think we'll get that chance. Besides, she had her family with her. While we both would have been happy for me to be present, this job comes first." He looked to where he had tossed is phone. "Whatever signal the thing got to receive that message, it's gone now. I can't contact my team without it so hopefully the rest of our party made it back and the others have a game plan on where to start looking."

Silence fell over the cave but it didn't last long. Petra asked, "Will they be able to find us?"

He hummed in assurance, though he himself didn't feel the confidence he was trying to display. "I have a tracker chip in my uniform as does my phone. They'll find us and we'll get you home, whether that's somewhere in our nation or back in Meca. I promise."

Petra nodded but didn't look all that convinced. He couldn't blame the Agirian. There was all the chance that they could be stuck out here for another 24 hours if the other three hadn't made it back to camp.

24 hours turned into three weeks and it turned his words into a worthless promise, not that it was anyone's fault. In the following 24 hours after he had made the promise, Zander's wife had given birth to a healthy baby boy and rescue had been sent out for them. But then his phone had died, there was a rock slide that had not only crushed the tracking chip but had also broken his collarbone, and the storms kept forcing them to take shelter. As much as the pair knew where they were going, it seemed they were getting nowhere.

He attempted to redo the splint and sling for his right arm after a lovely dip in a clear lake only to fail miserably. Petra was there just as his frustration reached a boiling point, deft hands careful and caring as the nimble fingers did the knot, fingers ghosting against skin as the Agirian checked the tension and where it sat. Zander watched him, watched him till Petra wandered back over to their campsite and continued working with the fish they had caught.

Three weeks. Zander rubbed at his face. They had another cliff to face before they were within sight of the pickup location. There was no sign that anyone had been out looking for them, no drones or rescue animals to meet them halfway and in that time Zander had come to know Petra far better than he knew himself yet he didn't know the Agirian at all. As ageless as they seemed, Petra was still young and had a lot of life to live. Zander.....he was losing hope. As much as he wanted to see his wife and son, there seemed to be no end to any of this and he had come to terms with that. He had lived a good life.

A day later the same thoughts echoed through his head as the ground gave out from under his right foot and his left hand lost purchase with the rock face. He saw Petra scream, watched the young man grab his arm and hand on, but there was no sound, none until his side collided painfully with the wall.

The ground gave out from under Petra as well.

He came to on his back, everything hurting so much that it made it impossible to focus. He could see Petra. Or, at least, he thought it was Petra. There was too much distance between them for him to be sure.

But from one blink to the next, Petra had moved from the ledge so far above him to his side and Zander wondered if had happened to have passed out. Petra's hands were shaking, his entire body looking like he had tumbled down the side of a mountain.

"Everything's going to be alright, ok?" Petra was choking out, tears clearing paths down his dusty face. "Just hang on."

Zander couldn't keep his eyes open. Even as he tried with all his might to smile and reassure the kid, his eyes started to close.

Petra made a strangled sound, words rushing passed his chapped lips. "I've got you. Just don't let go, ok? Stay with me." Zander managed to , not sure if the noise he was hearing was other voices or the sound of Death approaching. "Come on. You're going to see your son, your wife."

His eyes slid closed once more as Petra's words echoed in his ears, "You're going to make it out alive. I promise. Just hang on a little longer."

Was that just another worthless promise, too?

[ArtisticVicu]

February 2018
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
The following is a series based off of an rp. It is simply a play on an idea. I apologize for any offense given. That was never my intent writing this.
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

The light drizzle peppered his blond curls with water droplets, not that he minded. There was something pleasant about experiencing the rain, even with as light as it had become during his drive to the art museum. He locked his car and it beeped as a family passed him, the children running ahead in raincoats and boots laughing as they splashed about in the rain. At first the parents were annoyed but as they passed him, their anger and annoyance, their fears and societal standards melted away and the parents continued on smiling and joining the children in their enjoyment of the rain.

His own enjoyment of both the rain and the children’s delight diminished at the reminder he was just pretending to be human. Closing his eyes briefly, he focused on himself and drew his angelic aura back in, wrapping it around himself tight so as not to influence another, negatively or positively.

When he opened them, he started walking towards the museum entrance.

The amount of guests at the museum was so low that he eventually found himself wandering through one of the galleries by himself. Now, granted, he was one of the slower patrons of the museum - what with taking in the entire piece and reading the informational plaques and simply experiencing - that this came to no surprise. Instead, he relished the brief moment alone and eased up a bit on his control fully aware of the cameras located in the spaces. He didn't do much outwardly but even just easing up his hold on his aura was a relief. It was like a weight was lifted partially off his shoulders. The weight wouldn't fully leave until he returned completely to his angel form - wings and all - but it was enough for him to truly enjoy the experience.

Every now and then he would forget about how much he influenced humans and the passing worker or group that was touched by his aura would relax more as his enjoyment spread to them. He felt bad but did nothing to fix it. It didn't hurt to encourage the enjoyment of the arts. After all, a few that passed seemed to have needed his aid, not that he could blame them. For a human with stimulation everywhere and elsewhere, a museum could seem boring, but at least the enjoyment his aura carried seemed to help them create a visit that was truly enjoyable for them. He still hadn't figured out how the emotional influences worked. He hadn't ever tried to push it either but he knew with near absolute certainty that his influences were never beyond what that given person would normally do.

“Beautiful piece, isn’t it?”

Michael blinked, bringing himself out of his thoughts to look at the very handsome man standing to his left. He carefully drew his aura to himself, offering with a kind smile, “It certainly is.” He looked back at the piece. “I always enjoy wandering through the older galleries. The amount of work that goes into every piece astounds me every visit.”

His sudden companion hummed in agreement. “Paints, canvases, tools, all of it made by hand and taught from master to apprentice. Quite the amount of work.”

“But that doesn’t negate the beauty of modern day pieces where materials and supplies are far easier to access, either,” he amended. “Sometimes having such things more readily available and in wider variety helps the process.” He shrugged. “It solely depends on the artists themselves.”

“So what is your favorite era of art?”

He smiled again, this time softly. “I don’t really have one. Each era has so much variety that it’s hard to pick. All of what man has created is magnificent and breathtaking.”

His companion chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

He looked to his companion but the man was looking at his phone, an amused look on the handsome face. He tensed slightly when his companion’s gaze met his own. He found the brown eyes of this stranger were so rich in color, they almost looked red.

“I must get going,” his companion informed him, giving him a wave with the hand still holding his phone. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.”

“I hope your day remains joyous as well,” he responded, taking a step after the man without a thought.

Said man smiled and it looked sharp on the edge. “I plan to.”

Left alone once more, he sighed and let his aura uncurl a bit again. While humans weren’t always perceptive to his aura moving around them, that particular human had been rather close and he hoped that the man had not been one of the more perceptive of the human race and had noticed him pulling his aura back in.

He found himself fretting about it too much to enjoy the rest of the gallery. Before he could even make it to the next one, though, he felt the phone in his coat breast pocket vibrate. He pulled it out and found a text from work. Seemed they were short staffed and he was being asked to fill in if he was able to. No longer in the mood to wander the museum, he suppressed his aura fully and started for the exit.

The drive was short and the lot reserved for staff barely had any cars speaking volumes to how low staffed they really were today. He parked quickly and hurried through the back door.

"Michael!"

It was Ryan, one of the best bakers in the whole shop. A glance over revealed the man covered head to toe in flour, not so short hair standing in every direction and a nice gradient from the brilliantly blue hair to the palest of blues due to the flour coating the dyed strands. The man grinned at him, blue eyes flashing with joy. "Man! Are we glad to see you. Get changed. Margaret needs a hand on the floor."

"Where are the bosses?" he asked, crossing to the lockers hidden behind a wall in the kitchen.

"Here," a gruff voice answered him as a burly man appeared at the entrance to the small space that housed the lockers. "Change quickly, Engel. As much as much as my sister enjoys being on the floor, we need her in the back helping Ryan."

Michael yanked his jacket and shirt off, leaving him in a white undershirt. "Who's on floor?"

"Rebecca." Michael gave his boss a skeptical look as soon as his head was free of his uniform shirt. Said boss merely mirrored the look, raising an eyebrow. "She's not a cook, Engel."

"She's not a barista either, Boss," Michael countered, rushing to get into his dress pants, a bonus to keeping a spare uniform at work for days like these.

"Thus why my sister is on the floor. Replace her and we won't have to worry about it."

Michael nodded and slipped beyond the burly man. It was easy to find his other boss and trade off. He got into the flow of filling drinks as Rebecca worked register and gathering requested food.

It was insane in the popular cafe and Michael wasn't sure how they were handling all this with only five people on staff. He spotted his gruff boss slipping out of the back a few times to wipe down tables before disappearing into the back again. It was a relief when Nate showed up for his shift. Rebecca left and Michael traded with Nate. Nate was one of their best coffee makers and Michael had no problem manning the register. He was surprisingly good at it, though he was rather doubtful when his bosses always seemed to point at him when the tip jar was just that much fuller at the end of the day, regardless if he was on drinks or at the register.

"Here’s your cake. Your drink will be ready in a moment," he happily informed the customer he passed the warm slice of cake to. He watched long enough to see the customer slide over to the drink line that had only a few people in it. They were doing great, even as the gruff boss wandered out to do a cleaning run of the tables, floor, and bathrooms. "What can I get started for the next person in line?" he called out, turning his hazel gaze on the next customer with a welcoming smile and his full attention.

He found the almost red gaze of his brief museum companion. The man had an amused smile on his face as he ordered, “A tall, black coffee, please.”

“Regular or decaf,” he responded on rote, coming out of his startled staring as the words left his mouth. He forced his gaze to the register so that he didn’t accidentally type the wrong thing in.

“Regular is fine.”

“Three fifty.” There was a tap on his shoulder as the man before him pulled out a credit card.

It was his gruff boss. “Dinner break. I’m here to take over.”

Michael nodded, tearing the receipt from the printer and passing it to the man on the other side of the counter with a smile. “Here’s your receipt. Your coffee will be right up.”

He slipped into the back, letting out a shaky breath. What were the odds the man simply showed up at his place of work? Either he had a stalker now or it truly was only coincidence. He jerked back when a plate was shoved into his face. He looked up to find Ryan grinned at him. "Orders from the bosses: dinner on the house."

The plate held one of his favorite sandwiches they sold as well as a chicken wrap and what they called chisps. They were baked potato slices that were seasoned to excellence and were far better than any potato chip. "You all are life savers." He hasn't realized he had even been hungry till the plate was in his face.

"You're the life saver here, Michael," his other boss called from somewhere in the kitchen.

Michael chuckled. "I'll be out back if you need me."

Ryan gave him a salute and Michael slipped out the back door into the quiet space tucked away for breaks. Every bite was savored but he kept an eye on the clock. He wasn’t quite done yet.

Michael made it home far too late for a day off. His bosses were gracious enough, though, to swap his shift tomorrow for one later in the day. At least now he could sleep in. The door opened into his dark living space. He kicked off his shoes and didn't bother with a light. The blinds didn't keep out much of the street lamp light so while he couldn't see details, he could see furniture and anything that could possibly be on the floor.

His room was equally dark, illuminated as well from the street below. He stripped from his work clothes and left them where they fell on the floor. He grabbed the sleep pants on the messy bed and yanked them on sleepily. Screw doing anything else. He clambered into bed and settled down, his brain running far too fast for his exhausted body.

It kept coming back to the customer just before his break, not that he could figure out why. A part of him felt like he should recognize the man that had ordered the tall, black coffee, the one that had joined him in the gallery.

He rolled onto his back, staring at the shadows playing faintly on his ceiling. As much as the man had been attractive, God had decreed for no same sex relations among the angels. Michael threw an arm over his eyes, wondering if He even knew that Michael was struggling against such a decree, than Michael was very certain that he was very gay if his thoughts swirling around Mr. Tall Black Coffee were anything to go by.

He prayed none of his brothers and sisters in Heaven and on Earth were going through this as well. It was infuriating and stressful and quite terrifying. He wasn't sure what God would do if He found out about Michael's affinity for the same sex.

A thought made him shudder; what if Jesus found out? The past couple millennia had not left the Son of God untouched and Michael was certain that corruption had touched the once pure soul. After all, how could a single creation take on all the sins of man and step away untouched by the experience? Michael felt his heart go out to his brothers and sisters in Heaven dealing with Jesus in his absence. It wasn't often that Jesus listened to him when being told off but being the elder helped, marginally. Jesus was such an ass now that he barely listened to anyone, striving with his own agenda with God blind to it all.

Michael rubbed at his face, changing thoughts. He found too much focusing on Jesus would summon him and he'd rather not deal with the younger on the mortal world.

His thoughts turned back to the man that had ordered the tall, black coffee and almost wished they hadn't. While he was glad that he wasn't bound to summon Jesus now - hopefully - he could do without the damning thoughts.

“So this is where you’ve chosen to stay for your stay down here?”

Michael jerked upright, hand moving as if to draw a weapon only to still as his gaze landed on the one and only Jesus. The Son of God had a rather pleased look on his face, a glint in his eye that Michael didn’t care for. The hand that had moved towards an absent weapon grabbed at the sheets, throwing them off as he commented sharply, "Heaven above, Jesus. Are you trying to kill me before I have fulfilled His Plan?"

He stood up, offering his brother a soft smile. Despite the heart attack it was nice to see a face from home, even if it was Jesus. "I do hope you're not causing much mischief down here, Brother. Come," he gestured towards the bedroom door, "let's talk in the kitchen. Do you want anything to drink?"

“I’m not here for a lengthy visit, Brother,” Jesus spoke. A grin replaced the sudden stoic expression. “In fact, I was actually here visiting someone far less pleasant than you and it got me thinking.”

Michael took a step back, finding his Brother’s face far too close to his own.

“It’s been a while since I’ve dropped by to see how you’ve been handling among all the sin of man.” His grin grew even more. “Corrupted, yet?”

Michael adapted a blank expression. “Are you so eager to cast another Sibling from Heaven, Jesus?”

Jesus took a couple steps back, shrugging with a smile. “You know I would never want such a thing, dear Brother. Father holds you far higher than any of the angels in Heaven, even the Archangels, of which you are one of.” The look he sent Michael was vicious. “It would be so sad for Father to cast out another Archangel. Could you imagine the chaos that would ensue? The fear? There would be no telling who would go next!”

Michael’s expression broke. “What happened to you, Jesus?” he asked earnestly. He spread his hands to his sides. “You used to be so kind, so caring, and now you’re nearly as bad as the humans and demons here on Earth and in Hell.”

He should have watched his tongue as he found his back hitting the mattress hard, Jesus’s hand around his throat. “You forget your place, Brother,” Jesus threatened as he grabbed at Jesus’s wrist with both hands. “Or would you rather I toss your pathetic excuse of an Archangel ass to join Lucifer in Hell? I’m sure he would love your company and love it even more to corrupt you into nothing more than a pleasure slave.”

Michael kicked the other hard in the gut, getting some distance between them enough for Michael to breathe and sit up, on guard for another attack. Jesus didn’t go very far and Michael glared at him when the other’s face was placed inches from his. “Step out of line again, dear Brother, and I will not hesitate to get you thrown out of Heaven just like Lucifer.”

Michael blinked and Jesus was gone. He didn’t dare relax, standing and checking his small condo apartment for any signs that Jesus had lingered. With every inch searched, Michael allowed himself to sink down on the edge of the couch with a heavy sigh. Burying his face into his hands, Michael tried to quell the soft tremors coursing through his body from the adrenaline and fear. Even with Michael being the older, Jesus’s threat was not one to be taken lightly. God was blind to what Jesus had become and Michael was going more and more concerned that something had happened to turn God’s gaze from His Son.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, asking the silence, “Why me?”

There wasn’t an answer.

He hadn’t expected one anyways.
Michael was in a daze until his alarm went off. He blinked, finding himself staring down at the table, an empty mug nestled against his left palm, his right pressed against the right side of his brow supporting the weight of his head. He sat up, looking about as he tried to get himself back in the present.

Alarm. Right. The alarm he had set on his phone was going off. He stood up and put his mug in the sink before returning to the bedroom and crossing to his phone. He swiped at the screen, ending the alarm. He looked about feeling oddly off before he entered the bathroom. He had two hours before work and it would take him a half hour to get there. Best to shower and try to get moving now before he was rushing out of the door late.

The shower did nothing to help his mindset and he came out of the bathroom showered and dressed an hour later. Unperturbed by the lack of time, he went about making a quick meal as he turned the tv on.

The audio from some commercial filled the silence and he ignored it, letting it settle in as background noise as he worked. By the time he settled down, whatever show was playing on the air channel had returned and was introducing something that seemed vaguely important. He picked up the remote, munching on a bite with the intent to change the channel.

"And we are back with the live feed from the Fir Family press conference..."

Michael choked on the bite in his mouth. There, on the tv, was Mr. Tall, Black Coffee. His gaze snapped immediately to the description bar that appeared when they focused on the man that he had encountered twice.

Luciano Fir, Head of the Fir Family Corporations

Michael stared at the man's face as the cameras remained focused on him. It wasn’t till the view changed that he composed himself. He took a long pull from his glass, finding Mr. Tall, Black Coffee was the focus of the camera again.

He couldn’t pull himself away even long after the man had left the show changed to something else. There was no way that he had ended up interacting with a multi-billionaire on two separate occasions. He buried his free hand in his curls suddenly scared that this man was why he was on Earth. There was no other explanation, not when there was no such thing as coincidences.

A dark knot settled in the depths of his stomach. No, there was no way he could interact with that man and not break the one rule God had set upon the angels. His hand shook as he rubbed at his face; there was no way he could keep himself from going against God’s word either.

In the end, he ended up running as he shoved the rest of his food in his mouth before dashing out the door. Thankfully the traffic was forgiving and he made it to work on time.

"Glad you could make it, Engel," his gruff boss called out in the midst of the bustling kitchen. They were properly staffed today meaning there were three other bodies there beyond the head chef and Gruff Boss.

"Glad to be here," Michael replied, smiling. It felt fake on his face and he quickly shoved the thoughts about Luciano to the depths of his mind. He situated his mindset for work where he needed to be warm, welcoming, and happy. Or, well, less conflicted at least. He could wallow in “what if”s and existential crises later.

He stepped out from the back as he tied his apron around his waist, gaze sweeping over those already in the shop, not that he was looking for anyone specific. It was just a habit.

He blatantly ignored the toxic blend of relief and disappointment at not seeing Luciano in the shop. He simply chalked the churning in his stomach to having eaten too quickly.

A few people nearby suddenly became sullen. Michael noticed and quickly filled his aura with content, joy, and compassion to correct his mistake before binding his aura so deep down, it shouldn’t touch anyone again. He was grateful when he was put on drink duty. At least making drinks meant he couldn't pay attention to those that came in and get disappointed or relieved whenever it wasn’t Luciano.

"Tall, black coffee, please."

He gasped, fumbling with the coffee in his hand as it got beyond his control, and hissed when the coffee not only soaked through his apron and uniform burning his chest but scalded his hands as well. There was a chorus of his name being called by the other two staffers behind the counter and he offered them embarrassed, reassuring smiles as he sought out the gaze of the customer who's coffee he had just ruined. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss,” he urged. “I'll cover a size upgrade and any pastry or additional coffee you want."

The girl on the other side looked alarmed, one hand curled towards her lips as the other was outstretched towards him as if to offer any aid she could. She blinked before shaking her head. "It's fine.” She focused on him again and he realized he had most of the shop’s attention. “Are you alright, sir? That has to hurt."

He winced when a coworker dowsed his hand in an icy rag. He gave her a shaky smile. "I've had worse.” Thankfully his wince at the slip-up was covered by his coworker adding a new rag, the other already passed off. He quickly amended, “Comes with working with food."

She didn't look reassured.

Michael slipped around his coworkers, uttering apologies as he went into the restroom. It was the closest sink without being in the way and he didn't want the other staff members to get distracted or worry about him. The ice water made the scalded skin hurt worse but it would have to be fine. He couldn't risk healing the injury right away. It would draw too much attention. Too many people had seen him spill the coffee on himself.

Luciano had seen him spill the coffee.

He felt his face burn.

He hadn't even seen him come in and yet he knew that voice. Luciano had come back to the coffee shop and Michael had not only been hoping for him to show up, he had gone and fumbled with a very hot coffee just because the man had ordered a simple coffee.

He groaned. Why did he have to have a crush? Why couldn’t his life be so much simpler and he could just go about God’s plan without worrying about being kicked out of Heaven for the effort?

“You alright?”

Michael jumped. He whipped around as best he could while keeping his hands under the stream of icy water to find the man of his thoughts standing in the doorway with a slight frown on the sculpted face, concern in those nearly red eyes.

“Ah, yeah,” he replied, turning back to the sink to hide his cheeks turning red. “Sorry about the inconvenience. I do hope it did not interrupt your service too terribly much.”

“It did nothing of the sort.”

Michael shuddered, glancing up at the mirror to find Luciano was indeed very close to his back. The nearly red gaze caught his and Michael found it hard to break the eye contact even as he curled his hands into fists. “Are you sure you’re alright? It seemed that it had gotten on your front as well and the young lady had asked me to make sure that you were, indeed, alright.”

Michael broke the eye contact as he shook his head, a fond smile on his face. A part of him was calling Luciano a liar but that wasn’t something that needed to be addressed. “As very sweet as that is, it wasn’t her fault.”

“But it was mine.”

Michael tensed, swallowing thickly as he forced a laugh. “How could me being clumsy be your fault, Sir?” He met Luciano’s gaze again and attempted to keep his cracking mask from shattering. “It’s not like you reached over and knocked the coffee out of my hand.”

The man hummed but the expression the other was reading was hard for Michael to decipher; though, whether that was from it being a reflection or not was left to be decided.

The door opened again and Michael’s Gruff Boss entered, first aid kit in hand. Gruff Boss nodded to Luciano, asking, “You get compensated all right?”

Luciano nodded. “The young lady outside is holding what I received for me while I checked on him on her behalf.”

Again, Gruff Boss nodded. “Good.” His expression softened. “Thank you for caring for one of my staff. I’ll take it from here.”

Luciano nodded and caught Michael’s gaze in the mirror once more. “Make sure to remember to check your chest.”

Luciano stepped around Gruff Boss and exited the bathroom. Said Gruff Boss wrapped his hands and sent him home since Michael had refused to go to the hospital. The burns weren't bad enough for him to fret about the unnecessary expense. He entered his dark but warm apartment and kicked off his shoes as his hand found the light switch. It stung a bit, what with his hands quite raw underneath the bandages, but he wasn't about to heal them so quickly. It would raise too many questions.

“It would seem there’s a sodomite interfering with your life, Michael.”

Michael nearly jumped out of his skin and it took him a minute to process his younger Brother's words even as Jesus continued to speak with an amused expression, a mischievous glint in those devious eyes. “Such a pity you can’t heal your hands so quickly, Brother.”

He frowned, entering his home fully. "You should not judge others, Brother. God makes no mistakes. If a mortal feels for the same gender ends up in a healthy, loving relationship, we should not grievous them for what they cannot control nor condone them their happiness."

Jesus scoffed at his words but Michael didn’t care. What he was confused about, though, was, "Why use the term 'sodomite'?"

“You are too forgiving, Michael,” Jesus chastised.

Michael frowned. Where was Jesus go-

“If I’m not mistaken, you had been just as eager to forgive a certain Brother for his sins as well and even had the gall to look sad when he was kicked from Heaven.”

Michael tensed, stilling as he entered the living room. He set a hard, closed off gaze onto Jesus as he replied, "Was it not God who said mourn for those that cannot reach Heaven? To have compassion and forgiveness for others? Of course I wanted to forgive his sins. Lucifer had every right to another chance and of course I was sad when God made the final verdict. I was devastated! God sent one of His own from Heaven for all eternity and we were told to forget the sorrow of the act, that our own Brother deserved such a fate." He took a shaky breath before continuing softly, "That is beside the point, though. What does Lucifer have to do with my question you so graciously ignored?"

Jesus chuckled and Michael fought to keep from returning to his angel form in his living room. “Certainly you can figure that one out for yourself, Brother. After all, you are not the only one walking the mortal plains with plans set before you.” Jesus gave a nonchalant wave of his hand. “Though I’m certain the sodomite would have loved tending to you after your little fumble.”

It was like someone had poured ice into his veins and it made his brain short out for a moment. Wha-was Jesus insinuating what he thought he was? No. No, there was no way. If it were true, he would have already been confronted about it by now. There was no way, right?

The chuckle was beyond his lips before he could even think to stop it. It was rather humorless. “Are you trying to use Lucifer as a sort of jab at my bleeding heart, Brother?” Michael asked, shoving the conspiracy theory to the back of his mind. “You and I both know that it won’t work so why use Lucifer at all?”

The look he was given left Michael feeling very exposed. He clenched his hands into fists trying to keep them from trembling. “Because you are hiding something, Michael. Something that you shouldn’t be keeping hidden. And if the best way to break you is through your bleeding heart, then I’m going to exploit that.”

The fear was well founded but he hid it well as disbelief colored his words. "Hiding something? You and those Above think I'm hiding something?"

If it weren't for the fact that he really was hiding something, he would have normally found the whole situation ridiculous. Those Above could see far more than those on Earth, including those that were among Man. As it were, he wasn't about to inform Jesus of his thoughts that go again the one rule God had placed over them.

Jesus either didn't buy it or didn't care enough to push it. "Regardless of how much you want to deny it, you will slip up, Michael, and I'll gladly take you to Heaven only to watch Father kick you out like he did Lucifer."

And just as he had appeared, Jesus was gone in an instant.

Michael wasn't prone to drinking but after that particular visit from Jesus, he found the strongest liquor he owned and threw back a tumbler full before pouring himself another glass of the amber liquid and plopping into a table chair.

He buried his free hand into his curls, his thoughts now consumed - whether by Jesus's design or happenstance - by Lucifer. More specifically, the night before Lucifer's banishment, the same night he had last interacted with him.

The moon was full and high in the sky, casting Heaven and Earth in its soft light. The air had been warm most had been asleep for hours but Michael had found himself awake and unable to return to the sleep so many were enjoying, alone in one of the more isolated locations of Heaven till movement drew his gaze.

He frowned as he took in the form approaching. Their head was down and their wings limply folded but even then he could tell it was one of his Brother's awake as he was.

"Lucifer?" he asked the night hopefully. Would his hope be misguided?

His Brother's head came up and, for a brief moment, Michael thought he had guessed wrong, But then his Brother was tucking his wings closer behind himself as he stood taller. Michael relaxed, smiling gently. Even in the half shadows his Brother was walking through, he recognized that stance.

"Michael," Lucifer greeted, voice holding a bit of disbelief as the other came to a stop just outside the moon lit area that Michael stood in. "What are you doing out so late?"

He smiled at his brother. "I could ask you the same thing, dear Brother. But it isn't important, one way or the other." He took a step towards Lucifer as he inquired, "How have you been? I haven't seen you in quite some time..."

His words fell silent on his tongue when he realized Lucifer had taken a step back as he had stepped forward. Lucifer spoke up as confusion pulled at Michael's expression.

"I've been well enough. You've been tending to yourself?"

Michael gave a slow nod. "Though that is nothing new." He took another step forward and again Lucifer took a step forward. Michael pulled his wings tight against his back, spreading his hands in confusion. "Why do you retreat, Brother? Surely you know that whatever you have done, I will help you through it." His smile was tight, sad. "I'm sure there is no prank you could have pulled that would have been worse than the one from-"

"I'm not in trouble," Lucifer cut in. The other Archangel looked away. "At least, not yet."

"Lucifer?" Michael asked, taking another step forward.

"Don't." Lucifer snapped, wings thrown out to the sides. Michael jerked back, hand curled towards his chest as he watched his Brother warily. Lucifer slowly came out of the stance, wings slowly going limp behind him. "Just. Don't."

"Lucifer," Michael spoke, though the word was choked in his throat. He swallowed and took a deliberate step forward. "There is nothing you could have done to turn me away."

Something fluttered passed his face and he blinked. Turning his head slightly, he watched a feather drift towards the ground behind him. And suddenly he understood.

"Are you sure about that?"

Michael turned his wide eyed gaze back to Lucifer, hand gripping at the fabric over his chest as some toxic blend of emotions churned within him.

Lucifer slowly strode forward, each step deliberate and his gaze never wavering from Michael's. There was a brief patch of moonlight that illuminated the other's dark hair before the shadows gave away completely revealing just what Lucifer had gotten himself into and Michael recoiled.

He recoiled from his own Brother and Michael felt disgusted with himself. This was Lucifer, his fellow Archangel and Brother. There was no reason to recoil - to react with disgust and disappointment - at the sight of those once white wings turning black. What white feathers still remained were wilted and looked ashen. It was only a matter of time before Lucifer was fully taken by sin.

His delay in giving an answer, his reaction, seemed to have been answer enough for Lucifer. The other angel turned, some toxic emotion half obscured by those changing wings. "That's what I thought," Lucifer stated bitterly.

Michael felt desperate as he rushed forward, soft wings barely letting his feet touch the ground as he tried to grab at Lucifer. He hesitated and it took a second for him to remind himself that it wasn't contagious - and to swallow back the nausea at the realization he had to convince himself - before he finally closed the distance and grabbed at Lucifer's wrist, stopping his movement.

"No, please," Michael urged, though it sounded like a beg even to his ears. But Lucifer didn't shake him off and he took that as some sort of a good sign. "I don't care that you've Fallen. I don't care that sin has taken you. You are still my Brother and I will still love you."

"And when God kicks me out of Heaven and deems me a lost cause, would you still love me then?" Lucifer challenged, turning on Michael. It was quite the feat for Michael to not flinch at the verbal attack. "Will you actually stand up for me when He sends me to Hell for my wrongdoings?"

Michael shook his head, wanting to tell Lucifer that of course he would, that he would stick by Lucifer no matter what, but he feared God and knew deep in his soul no word he spoke would still God's Judgment. "I-"

"You can't." The words were soft, gentle even, and Michael choked on a sob in his despair, tears rushing down his cheeks. It wasn't fair! Why did this have to happen to any of them? Why Lucifer?! Lucifer's larger hands cupped his cheeks and coaxed him to look up, thumbs rubbing away his tears. Michael met Lucifer's red gaze, clinging to the other's wrists in hopes of keeping him there. Why was Lucifer smiling such a painful smile? "And I understand." Lucifer pressed a soft kiss to Michael's forehead as another sob choked him. "Besides," Lucifer breathed against his skin, "I'd much rather Fall and take all the sin with me rather than see any of you Fallen as well."

Michael shook his head as best he could still trapped between Lucifer's hands, and opened his mouth.

Michael found himself with his cheek pressed against the table's hard surface, eyes sticky and his mouth dry. He winced when his head suddenly started pounding right along with his heart beat and he sat up, rubbing at his face to find his cheek tacky from him drooling. Disgusted, he got up and nearly toppled over onto the floor. He gripped at the table as he struggled to simply keep himself upright as the world kept twisting around him. It took far longer than it should have but, eventually, the world stilled enough for him to get his feet underneath him and he stumbled towards the kitchen.

The facet water was icy cold against his face and it woke him right up, not that it helped the pounding in his head. Swallowing a few handfuls, he draped a damp rag across the back of his neck as he wandered back to the table with a wet rag in hand.

The liquor bottle was just as empty as the tumbler he had been using and Michael mentally cursed Jesus's careless words and the influence he had on him. It was far more difficult to not hate Jesus and that deplorable personality his Brother had taken on.

Tossing the bottle into the recycling, he quickly washed the glass before moving to tend to his hangover. A glance at the clock told him he had plenty of hours left to waste away in bed till his next shift so he set out to do just that.

Hours later, as the first light of the new day filled the waking city, Michael found himself bundled in a heavy sweater wandering the largest park near his house. The air was still crisp and cool, frost causing the grass to sparkle and fog displaying the beams of morning sunlight.

He didn't see the other fellow walking in the other direction till he collided with the man's chest. A quick hand on his forearm kept him from toppling off balance and he gripped at the arm to keep himself upright.

"I'm so sorry," Michael rushed as he got himself upright. "I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going."

He finally looked up as a chuckle filled the air between them and he stared wide eyed at Luciano Fir, the man's grip on his arm gentler now that Michael seemed to be standing just fine. "It was not fair for me to stop directly into your path when it was clear you were oblivious to your surroundings." Luciano frowned. "You are otherwise unharmed?"

Michael nodded, offering a bright smile. "Only thing injured is my dignity and pride."

"And your hands."

Michael winced at that, his smile turning sheepish. "Barring that," he agreed. He shook his head. "How is it you and I keep running into each other? Certainly you are not seeking me out on purpose."

Luciano laughed and Michael found himself wanting to hear the sound more. Much more. "No, nothing like that." The look he gave Michael was hard to decipher. "Though I do admit I find it hard not to want to be in your presence when you are around."

Michael jumped, bewildered. "Why? I'm nothing special," he blurted.

Luciano's smile softened. "Oh, I doubt that but not knowing you would actually make that rather difficult to actually know." Luciano glanced passed Michael before focusing on him and offering, "I wasn't actually heading anywhere in particular. Do you want to go grab breakfast or a coffee with me?"

Michael blinked at him. Shame rushed through him on the heel of his sudden elation. He stepped out of Luciano's touch, replying, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I..." Michael took a breath, gathering what courage he had to meet the man's eyes. But the words he spoke had not been the ones he had intended. "I don't want to impose on you. You must certainly have something far more important to do than spend your morning with a simple cafe barista."

Luciano arched an eyebrow at him. "Isn't that for me to decide?"

"I-well, yes-"

"And did I not offer?"

"Well, yes, you did, but-"

"So what's the matter?"

"It sounds like a date!" he blurted, frustration at not being let to speak causing him to do so loudly. He was certain he was as red as an apple as he sputtered. "Ah-wait. That-That wasn't-"

"And what if it was a date?"

Michael's eyes snapped wide, gaze on the ground before him. He quickly looked up at Luciano to see the man very amused and patiently waiting for his response. Michael opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to breathe, "No lie?"

Luciano nodded. "No lie."

Michael opened his mouth to respond but a passerby suddenly stumbled, items going everywhere, and the words out of his mouth were reactional.

"It wasn't me!"

Michael was humiliated as Luciano was nearly bend double from laughter.

At least Michael got to hear that wonderful sound again, even if it was at his own expense.
Cheeks still burning, Michael helped the passerby pick up their scattered items, Luciano only being so useful as the man continued to laugh. By the time the passerby had left after many words of gratitude - and a few out of amusement to Michael's reaction - both Michael and Luciano had calmed down.

"I still can't believe that was your first instinct in such a situation," Luciano teased gently, returning to a conversation as he turned and started up the path the way Michael had been heading.

Michael fell into step beside him. "It really isn't. Just a habit bred at work out of good humor and such." Michael shrugged, feeling awkward. "It mostly slips out when I'm nervous, it would seem."

Luciano looked at him but Michael ignored him. "You're nervous?"

Michael winced. "Ah, maybe that's the wrong word. Anxious, then?"

Luciano stopped walking, hand gently curling around Michael's bicep as Michael came to a stop as well. Michael was surprised to see the frown on his companion's face. "I'm making you anxious?"

Michael quickly raised his hands. "No, no! Just the...situation. I-ah, geez. How do I explain this?" Michael rubbed the back of his neck, gaze going to the expanse of grass to his left. "I, uh, may not have ever believed that you of all people would actually consider to date me?"

"Oh?"

Michael shrugged, uncomfortable and growing more so the longer this went on. "I....it's not that I'm not interested in dating you or anything but the last time I had someone who was out of my league ask me out, it had been a joke."

Luciano's hand was on his cheek, drawing his gaze from the grass to the nearly red eyes looking down on him. "I am serious. If you are interested, I would like to go get breakfast at a diner I know and we can call it a date. Should it not work out, I would like to at least settle as friends. You seem like an interesting man and, as you so keenly pointed out, we do keep running into each other despite everything."

Michael shook his head, the action taking Luciano's hand from his cheek. "But I'm a stranger. Why ask me out on a date?"

"Because you are breathtaking."

Michael's breath caught in his chest and he stared at Luciano. He was joking, right? There was no way he even came close to compare to the Adonis before him.

"And because you are clearly very kind, very intelligent, and, in all honesty, you remind me of someone I haven't seen in years." Luciano smiled softly. "So, yes, I get something out of this by spending a morning with you, as I believe you put it. But it isn't in search of finding a replacement so much as making new memories and meeting new people."

Michael gave a breathless laugh. Out of all his words, Michael couldn't find one lie. That didn't mean there wasn't one but it certainly put him at far more ease than anything else probably would have. Nodding, he agreed with Luciano's terms. "Alright. Breakfast. And afterwards, we can decide on another date or simply being friends."

Luciano beamed at him and a sensation Michael had never experienced before rushed through him. It was dizzying even as his mind pointed out that there was something oddly familiar about that look, about Luciano with such an expression. But the thought was fleeting and silenced by Luciano taking his hand. "Excellent. The diner is just a short walk from here."

The next three hours pass in a heady blur. During those three hours, the two of them talked and talked, staying in the diner booth long after their plates were cleared talking and laughing and Michael forgot quite often just who he was having breakfast with. It was when they were back in the park walking towards Michael's home that he remembered the strongest.

He steeled himself against the answer to his question. "So, did it go as you had hoped?"

Luciano hummed. As nonsequencial as the question was in their conversation, it seemed the man had understood his meaning as he answered with, "Probably not as smoothly as I had hoped, but certainly the result was the same."

Luciano entangled their fingers, buzzing with pleasure and happiness. It made Michael smile weakly even as his heart grew heavy. "And what of the press?"

That seemed to have taken Luciano by surprise because the man gave him a blank stare. Michael came to a stop and Luciano mirrored him, thumb idly rubbing at the back of Michael's hand. Michael elaborated. "You're one of the world's most sought after bachelors from a predominant family of bachelors. This relationship will not go unnoticed."

Luciano shrugged. "I don't care about all that. It's inconsequential."

Michael shook his head, distraught. "But what if it isn't to me?"

Luciano gave him a look that was far sharper and far harder than anything Michael had witnessed from the man, especially directed at himself. "Come off it, Michael. You're above all that."

"Am I?" Michael challenged. He yanked his hand free from Luciano's hold and for the briefest of instances, he regretted the action when loss and pain crossed the other's face but it was gone as quickly as it had surfaced. "Am I really? Luciano, I'm a simple cafe barista in the middle of a massive city. I have no wealth and I certainly have no interest in being the center of attention like that." Michael gave him a soft smile but it felt strained. He hoped it didn't look as such. "You are an amazing person, Luciano, and I would enjoy nothing more than to go on another date with you-"

"Then why don't you?" Luciano interrupted but Michael kept going.

"-but I need to know that you understand that it will take time for me to adjust to the idea that this isn't simply a ploy or some elaborate dream I'm bound to wake up from." This time the smile he gave was tight and humorless. "There will be some conflict personally about all this. As much as I find you attractive, my home life growing up had never been open to such relations and I cannot act as if I didn't grow up without realizing I had been in the closet the entire time."

Something crossed Luciano's face and suddenly Lucifer's face was superimposed over Luciano's face and Michael started as the other's hand carded through his curls. "Oh, Michael," Luciano uttered, his words soft and doing nothing to change the impression Michael was choking on. "Of course I understand and am more than willing to try if you're willing to be patient with me. I've lived for so long getting what I want when I want it that I forget that sometimes there are things that bother others that no longer bother me. I will do all that I can to make sure you stay out of the media till you are ready. Is that enough to have you at least think about a second date?"

Michael swallowed thickly, nodding. It was enough to guarantee at least two but he was afraid if he tried to speak, he would accidentally call the man Lucifer and he'd much prefer avoid being accused of anything. Luciano smiled at him and offered him his hand once more. "Shall I walk you home, then?"

"Just to the corner," Michael compromised with a soft smile, his hand trembling slightly. "I'd feel more comfortable knowing you are still rather oblivious as to where exactly I live."

Luciano chuckled. "Of course."

They walked in companionable silence for the rest of the way. When they arrived at the point they would separate, Michael expected Luciano to push the matter but the other man simply raised Michael's hand to his lips causing Michael to blush.

"You have my number, correct?" Luciano verified, breath ghosting over Michael's knuckles.

Michael nodded. "I'll text you later so that we can arrange another date."

Luciano beamed. Michael suppressed a shudder. He couldn't stop seeing Lucifer in the man and it was starting to get worrisome.

It didn't help the growing fear of the consequences awaiting him when those Above discover his lack of abiding to God's one rule.

"I look forward to your text and our next meeting, then," Luciano happily replied. He pressed another kiss to Michael's knuckles before turning and walking away.

Michael waited till the man was at what he deemed was a suitable distance before turning about and started for home.

His apartment was dark in the sense that all the lights were still off but the blinds did very little to keep the daylight out so he kept the lights off as he entered his home. Shoes tucked away by the door, he flopped down onto his couch and released a long sigh as his eyes fell closed.

When he opened them again, his apartment was still well lit from the daylight and the shadows of the tree outside played on the ceiling. Sitting up, he curled all the way forward and rubbed at his face with his elbows propped onto his knees.

Why had he been unable to shake the impression that Luciano was Lucifer? He hadn't seen his Brother in ages and there was no way Lucifer would be interested in him like that. Michael was very certain that Lucifer would have enjoyed swooning all but to find interest in another Archangel would have been far from Lucifer's character.

A hand carded through his curls and fear froze him in place as Jesus's voice curled around him. "You certainly know how to get yourself into trouble, don't you, dear Brother?"

Michael jerked back only for Jesus's hand to fist his hair and keep him from going very far. The other forced Michael's head back as Jesus loomed over him, a devious, satisfied smirk marring the face above him. "I would have thought you would have heeded my words, dear Brother. Certainly you knew I was watching and would not have taken kindly to you affiliating with Lucifer."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael ground out.

Jesus's face lit up at that and Michael swallowed a cry of pain when Jesus yanked on his hair to get him off the couch. "Oh, I'm sure you don't but Father doesn't know that, does he?"

The world around them swirled and Michael collapsed to his knees at Jesus's shoving as they appeared in Heaven. Michael shuddered at the sensation of Heaven. His content on Earth had dimmed the memories and now he felt overstimulated by what was his home.

He squinted against the harsh light, finding himself on his knees before God.

"Father," Jesus spoke, looking for all intents and purposes as the Son of God from before his corruption. "I can no longer stand idly by as my Brother deceives you down on Earth. I have tried to urge him to not to interact with the Fallen yet he goes against Your Word and reaches out to those that cannot be saved."

Had Michael not known Jesus as well as he did, he would have assumed that the pain that Jesus was emitting was true and pure. Even knowing Jesus well caused guilt to churn in his chest even as he drowned in confusion. He hadn't been interacting with Lucifer! As much as he missed his Brother, he had no idea where the Fallen was even at.

God focused on him and Michael found himself staring at the ground before his knees, unable to look at God after having been away for so long. "Michael," God's voice spoke, the sound wrapping around him so thickly that Michael lost all sense of Heaven. "Tell me: do you despise me so much as to go against my word?"

"Of course not, Father," Michael urged, his throat tight. Why was he here being judged? He had done nothing wrong!

"Yet you interact with those that I have stated were to be rejected and turned away." Michael flinched at that. There was a pause long enough that Michael started to wonder if God would speak again. "Michael, tell me: do you wish I had not cast Lucifer from Heaven?"

The lie was on his tongue but the compulsion to tell the truth was irrefutable. Hate coiled within him at the fact that God was forcing him to speak the truth. "Yes," Michael stated far calmer than he felt. "He is our Brother and should have been forgiven and given another chance."

There was a wave of displeasure from God and Michael bowed at the weight of it. "Tell me: if I had given you the chance, would you have gone against me the night of Lucifer's banishment."

"Yes."

The word - that single word - was passed his lips before he could even think, before he could even try to deny it. But he had been thinking about that night since Jesus's words had sparked those fragmented memories and he felt it even in his own soul that the word was true.

Pain erupted from his back and filled his body as God forced his wings to show. He cried out as his hands scraped against the ground in an attempt to keep himself from collapsing completely, tears streaking down his face. His entire body quivered as the pain ripped through it. Through the haze of pain, he caught sight of feathers drifting down around him and through the pain he turned his head as his wing came into view.

Everything seemed to stop. There was no pain - no emotion - as he stared at what were supposed to be his wings.

He stared at a wing and was suddenly back to the night before Lucifer was kicked from Heaven under the moonlight. Even looking back now, Lucifer's wings had still looked radiant and beautiful even as they changed, clearly something the embodiment of Pride could be proud of, but his....

Michael felt sick as he took in the wing that looked damaged and ratty, as if they hadn't been tended to after haven gotten caught in something. There was no beauty in it like there had been in Lucifer's and Michael wondered if that was his punishment or a result of giving into sin so quickly for he could no longer doubt that he had given into sin.

God's words slowly registered in Michael's mind. "You were one of my most powerful creations, third only to Jesus and Lucifer and yet you have clearly become corrupted just as Lucifer had. You will be tossed from Heaven and forbidden to ever return."

Laughter bubbled out of him, unbidden and unrestricted as soon as they started. Anger curled in his chest as it peppered out and he clambered to his feet. "Funny. I always thought I would be banished from my interest in the same gender, not from accusations that I'm associating with a Brother I have not seen since his Falling."

The wrath of God rushed over him and he weathered it, glaring at God as he did so. Unadulterated wrath of his own curled through him aimed at God and Jesus. He didn't care that God knew now, not when he was not even given the chance to be heard out.

Determined to get his piece said, he added, "If your top three Sons are corrupted, what's to say the others are not? Even God can be blinded by His own brilliance and sin."

That earned him the shove from Heaven and pain erupted from his back again as he slammed into the pavement in some alleyway he didn't recognize from where he was prone on his back. He hissed as he moved knowing that he had to hide his wings despite the fact that night had fallen.

Excruciating pain rippled through him with every movement and he tried to hide his wings. He nearly passed out from the pain and gulped down air as he settled on his side willing himself to not pass out.

He wasn't sure if it had been a few minutes or a few hours before he finally managed to get his wings hidden. But when he did get his wings hidden, he had no strength to move. His back was damp from what he could only presume was blood and the rest of him chilled from sweat as the night grew colder around him. Shivering, he curled tighter in on himself and settled in to sleep, not caring.

There was the sound of wings on the edge of his consciousness and for a moment he thought he had finally fallen asleep but then there were hands on him - careful and barely there - as a familiar voice called his name.

He frowned, eyes trying to flutter open and they only opened enough to let him see a blurry form kneeling before him that seemed as if out of a dream. Or an old memory. A kind hand carded through his curls and he voiced without thinking, "Lucifer?"

"What happened?" the figure asked and Michael's brain misfired.

He tried to force himself more coherent, moving to sit up, but his back spasmed and the figure pushed at his shoulders to keep him still. No. It couldn't be. Not after all this, not after everything thing that had happened. There was no way. "Lucifer? Truly?" he urged again but what strength he had suddenly faded and darkness quickly swallowed him as the figure above him promised, "Hang in there, Michael. I'm going to get you somewhere safe."

Blissful darkness swallowed him even as his mind was left bewildered and confused.

[ArtisticVicu]

March 2018
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

Waking was slow, difficult, and unwanted, but the nausea that seemed to just crash over him in waves was unrelenting and waking seemed to be the only state his body would let him be in.

Whatever his forehead was pressed against was warm, almost hot, and he frowned. When had he become so cold?

He curled towards the heat and his brain finally registered the arms holding him as they tightened at his movement.

"Easy," came the gentle command from somewhere over his left ear, soft enough not to deafen him out of proximity. That single word rumbled the chest he finally realized he was against, the throat shifting against his forehead as the person carrying him spoke. "I've got you."

He frowned as his foggy brain dredged up memories as best it could, memories of what had transpired who knew how long ago. "Lucifer?" he asked for the third time, though now the name came out crackly and on a fat tongue. His frown grew at his distaste for the slurring. The person carrying him hummed in a way to acknowledge his inquiry without vocalizing their own inquiry. Michael felt his heart clench as he gripped the expensive shirt covering the broad chest. Something shifted against his arm and he wondered when he had been draped in a coat that smelt all too familiar. "Or Luciano?"

Again with the slurring but it seemed to have been enough for the man carrying him gave him a clear enough answer. "Both, in one way or another; Luciano is my current façade on Earth and I'll probably be changing it again in a decade or two as I normally do."

Michael closed his eyes tightly. His brain was moving faster now which meant that it was taking in more from his senses. His sense of sight was finally seeing beyond the little bubble that was him against Lucifer's chest and the view of motion was not helping his nausea. At least he couldn't feel it yet.

"Why did you let me believe that I was dealing with someone other than my Fallen Brother?" Michael ground against the fat tongue in his mouth. "I was so confused when Jesus brought me before God accusing me of associating with you when I truly thought you were nothing more than another mortal."

Lucifer's head shifted but with Michael's forehead pressed against the other's neck and his eyes closed, he didn't know specifically how. He also wasn't sure he cared one way or the other.

"You didn't pick up on my aura on our date?"

Michael's eyes snapped open and – nausea be damned – he fisted his hands in Lucifer's shirt as he pushed himself away to stare at him. The sudden motion startled them both and Lucifer jerked to a stop in order to keep from not only losing Michael but from losing his own balance. Michael didn't have enough in him to care. Instead, he found himself staring at Lucifer, not Luciano like he had half expected, and that made the words come out higher than he had intended. "Why would you make me think I was going crazy because I couldn't shake the overlay of your face over Luciano's? I thought I was losing my mind!"

Something crossed Lucifer's expression but the sudden motion and his sudden shrieking had caused his head to start pounding. That, in turn, made his nausea spike and he groaned as he pressed his forehead to Lucifer's shoulder with his eyes squeezed shut.

Lucifer shifted his weight about enough to bury a hand in Michael's curls. "I apologize if I has caused you such turmoil. It had not been my intent and, to be honest, I had thought you had realized who I was when we had first met here on Earth."

"I hadn't thought too much on what my aura had been picking up in the gallery so much as trying to not let you realize that I was drawing it back into myself," Michael countered, though there was an edge to his words he had not intended. He silently cursed his frustration with the situation and amended in a softer tone, "After that, I was working in the café surrounded by humans. There was no way I would have let my aura out to even try and sense anything off of you."

Lucifer chuckled and Michael felt it rumble through his arms into his chest. It didn't help his headache. "No, no. Before all that."

Michael frowned. "Before all that?" He parroted. And before Lucifer could even say a word towards it, the nausea suddenly spiked. With a moan, he quickly uttered, "I'm going to be sick."

He wasn't sure where they had been nor where they had been heading, but thankfully they had been close enough to some restroom that by the time Michael could no longer suppress the urge to expel whatever his body was rejecting, his face was over some toilet.

There was no tracking of time nor memories after that. Only impressions stayed with him once the whole ordeal passed and those impressions returned as he laid against Lucifer's chest on the bathroom floor, too exhausted to try to protest or move and far too cold to even think about leaving the furnace that Lucifer seemed to be.

The first impressions were of Lucifer's constant presence, the other always there and always comforting him in some way: rubbing circles into his back, softly rubbing a damp cloth over the back of his neck and through his hair, cleaning his face.

Covering his eyes to keep him from seeing what his body was rejecting so vehemently even if the tears did that for him.

And the more impressions that came, the more confused he got: there were no discernable words but Lucifer's voice wrapped around him regularly, the other's strong arms holding him close in the brief reprieves that occurred.

Holding him close as he cried.

Shame washed through him and was quickly followed by self-loathing. He could not remember anything he had blabbed while sobbing turning some of the reprieves but he knew there were many a word he had never intended to share. A sour taste that had nothing to do with bile filled his mouth; out of all the people to lose it in front of, Lucifer had never been high on his list. He had idolized his Brother and had done everything to be seen as worthy enough. Now he was nothing more than a Fallen afflicted by some human illness that had degraded him down to the level of babbling moron.

Lucifer shifted under him and Michael opened his eyes. The bathroom was spacious, well decorated, and he couldn't help but wonder where they had ended up. "Are you feeling well enough to move to the bed?"

"Bed?" Michael echoed faintly, trying to get beyond the exhaustion to remember if Lucifer had ever mentioned where they were at.

Lucifer's hand through his hair was oddly soothing and he found himself settling against Lucifer again, almost slipping off to sleep only for Lucifer's voice to cut through gently. "I was able to make it to my home. We're in the bathroom attached to my bedroom."

There was his answer, then. "I doubt I'll be vomiting any time soon. I doubt there's anything left my body can expel anyways."

Lucifer hummed but Michael wasn't sure if that was because Lucifer had nothing to add or had kept from saying something else. There was movement under him before he was up in Lucifer's arms once more. He wasn't sure how the other male was able to carry him without obvious strain and probably would have asked under different circumstances. Instead, his muddled brain bypassed the question and went straight to letting out a contented moan as he was placed on a mattress that enveloped him so complete that he nearly fell asleep at that moment. It was only the covers being pulled over him and Lucifer's voice that kept him from slipping under completely.

"I'll be in the living room if you need me. Just shout or reach me with your aura."

Michael shifted about and blindly grabbed for Lucifer. Fingers ensnared fabric and he clung to it vehemently, Lucifer's body heat slipping beyond the fabric confirmation that he had indeed grabbed the other. "Why are you leaving?"

Amusement washed over him and he blatantly realized that Lucifer's aura was not currently restricted. "Because you need sleep and I want to watch some tv for a while."

"You have a tv in here," Michael protested, though he didn't know that for sure. He couldn't remember actually seeing one.

"It'll keep you up," Lucifer countered, his hands gentle as he pried Michael's fingers from the fabric and confirming Michael's blind accusation.

Michael snorted into the pillow that smelt not of Luciano but Lucifer, as if the other slept in his proper human form rather than the façade he portrayed to the public, not that there was much difference between either. "I'm going to be dead to the world in all of two seconds. Stay and watch your show. I don't want to rid you of your bed."

And that had been the unintentional display of his distress. And while he would rather not have said that, he truly did not want Lucifer leaving. The thought of being left alone, of being vulnerable to Jesus's antics, and of having to face another bout of vomiting should it occur also brought to focus that he was imposing on Lucifer and Lucifer's home.

Comfort wrapped around him as Lucifer brought Michael's knuckles to his lips. Michael wondered if he had accidentally spoken his distress more than he had already unintentionally had done.

"Alright, I'll stay," Lucifer conceded against the skin of Michael's knuckles before lowering Michael's hand back to the mattress. "But if I'm keeping you up, let me know."

Michael hummed an affirmation. When Lucifer moved away, Michael found it hard not to just pass out. He waited, listening as Lucifer shuffled about, the sound of fabric and things getting dropped or tossed filling the silence in spirts, until finally the other side of what Michael quickly discovered was a massive bed dipped under the other Fallen's weight. Lucifer's presence approached along with the weight on the mattress till Lucifer was just beyond what Michael was sure was arm's reach. Already inches from the edge of the bed, Michael couldn't fathom how large this mattress truly was and why Lucifer had such a large bed. Certainly he grew lonely.

He ignored the anger at their situations, of how Lucifer had the height of luxury while Michael lived among the common folk.

When he awoke, it was to warm sunlight cutting through a crack between the blackout curtains and filtered through the sheer curtains beyond. He also woke up alone in the massive bed in an unfamiliar room. At least he felt better, if not a bit groggy and quite grimy. He must have had a fever that broke while he slept.

While angels never got sick, living in human forms certainly made them more susceptible to an array of illnesses with varying degrees of severity. Because of how he worked and where he worked – too hard and too often – he had come down with the occasional cold or stomach bug but the severity had never been to the level as what he could only presume was the day prior's experience.

Shifting in the sheets, foggy memories of what had transpired during the height of whatever he had gone through filtered through his mind. The only things that seemed to have settled there were Lucifer and Luciano were the same person and that he had said and done things he would not have normally said and done.

But what had transpired in Heaven came back crystal clear.

He let his feet touch the cool floor when he sat up at the bed's edge. Tremors coursed through his body simply at the memories of God's actions and when he tried to get his wings to show, his body fought him tooth and nail.

The trauma of God ripping his wings into existence made the process of pulling his wings into existence a painstakingly slow process but he had to check, to see. When the last tug was made and the full weight of his wings was on his back once more, he opened his eyes.

His wings looked dead as they half curled around his shoulders. Any slight shift or tiny twitch would send a cascade of feathers down onto the sheets and carpet lacking any luster that would have normally been there. It wasn't like the feathers seemed to be clinging to the wing structure to begin with and they were so brittle that the one he had picked up broke. The bits of feather caught between his fingers seemed to turn to dust.

He was disgusted.

What was even more infuriating was, despite how careful and slow he had been, he could feel blood trickling down his back, seeping into the shirt he wore.

He should have been more careful.

"Michael."

Lucifer's hand was cold even through the shirt on his back and Michael hissed against the touch, though the pain was nothing compared to when God had yanked his wings out. The other's hand stayed, healing energy flowing into his back in an attempt to counter the damage he had inevitably created. Michael quickly moved to his feet, putting distance between them even as it created a shower of feathers. Michael was glad Lucifer's expression was so controlled he couldn't even read it. He was not in the mood for pity. "Don't," he snapped, though what he was telling Lucifer not to do was beyond him.

"You shouldn't have brought them out," Lucifer spoke evenly. "What healing I can do was nothing compared to what God had done to your back and bringing them back out only opened the wounds again."

The laugh was dry and sharp. "No kidding," Michael spoke ruefully. "I can feel the blood dripping down my back from these decrepit things."

Lucifer's expression hardened. "Michael," he warned, but whatever was going to finish the warning off was never spoken.

"This is great, isn't it?" he went on sarcastically, throwing his hands up as his anger grew. "Absolutely fabulous!" He gestured at Lucifer. "You get to keep wings worthy of any angel despite being a Fallen and what do I get? Decrepit, useless limbs that will probably be featherless in the next hour."

Whatever Lucifer had been able to do in that brief moment of contact was undone as he forced his wings away, tearing the wounds on his back even bigger and barely even flinching from the pain.

The feathers didn't disappear.

"I'm going home," he spoke to the window.

"Michael," Lucifer spoke again, stepping towards him but Michael stepped around the other Fallen.

"You can't keep me here, Lucifer," Michael countered, his steady voice quaking at the edges as he paused at Lucifer's side. "Not when I don’t want to be here." There was a pause and he half expected Lucifer to fill it but there were no words from the other. So, Michael gave his last piece, glacing over at Lucifer but not looking at the other's face. "Thank you for your help, Lucifer. I'll let you know when I'm feeling up to company."

Lucifer didn't stop him on his way out of the bedroom and certainly not across the living space. It wasn't till he had sat down to put his shoes on that Lucifer did anything but it wasn't what he had expected.

A coat settled on his shoulders, heavy but comforting. Lucifer offered in leau of the coat, "The blood's seeped into the back of your shirt. This will keep it hidden and keep you warm. There's a cold front in town right now and it's quite chilly outside."

Looking over his shoulder, he found Lucifer already halfway across the apartment heading down some hallway. Baffled but not at all deterred, he finished putting his shoes on before slipping his arms into the sleeves. He found his keys on the table near the door and stepped out.

The coat smelt of Lucifer.
The walk was equally short and excruciatingly long. He could feel the distance in his body with the way it ached, legs trembling as he came to a halt before his door.

Somewhere along the trek he had realized that he had left Lucifer's dressed in cloths that were not his, meaning if he had his keys, they weren't on him now. A dull thought questioning what he would do with the door locked passed through his tired brain as he tried the handle.

The door opened, revealing an apartment well lit in the dead of night filled with several people.

He was certain his name was shouted as he was pulled into the apartment, jostled about by hands and arms familiar but unwanted. He flinched from the pain in his back and the cacophony of sound around him.

"Give him space!" came a sharp order and there was suddenly space around him. He sucked in air greedily as Gruff Boss became his focal point before him. Ever in charge, the burly man was the only one to step closer now.

Michael wish he hadn't let the man. From one instance to the next, Michael was forced to turn around, jacket pulled off and shirt shoved over his head. He hissed as cold air hit raw wounds agitated by the sudden removal of his shirt. He struggled to replace the shirt but his boss's grip was strong regardless of how gentle it was.

"Penelope, go get what counts as a first aid kit this moron owns." He heard movement towards the bathroom as Gruff Boss directed him somewhere. Another set of hands were on him as equally careful as his boss's as he heard the muffled scrap of a kitchen chair. He was forced to straddle the chair and rest his front against the backrest with his arms still pinned near his head by his shirt. "Ryan, Nate."

"Name it and we're on it, Boss," the baker spoke from somewhere to his left. There was sound of another chair being moved.

"Help him out of that shirt and keep him seated. And do try to be careful."

"Always, boss," the other responded as the pair started working the shirt off of Michael. He did his best not to fight the unwanted touch despite their purpose.

"Here, Roderick." Penelope - his other boss - had returned as his head came free. He squinted against the sudden harsh light. He gave both men a flat look as Gruff Boss responded from behind him, "Thanks."

There was a brief moment of silence filled only by the sound of the shirt leaving his body completely and of Gruff Boss fiddling with whatever his sister had handed him.

He felt far more exposed than he was comfortable.

"What happened to your back, Michael."

Penelope's question was hard, more of an order for him to explain than any actual option for him to dodge the words. Despite knowing there was compassion there, he wasn't about to tell any of them the specifics. He shrugged, flinching from the pain it caused. Ryan and Nate each shot a hand to his shoulder, pinning him down. Rage curled in his gut at the trapped sensation that settled over him. "I scraped up my back doing something stupid," he ground out. daring them to press the issue.

A chuckle rolled from behind him, the sound coming across dangerous and humorless as it was quickly followed by Roderick commenting, "Walking home instead of heading to the hospital was stupid."

Ryan's hand squeezed his shoulder, concern on his face as he asked, "Any other injuries we need to know about?"

"How are your hands?" Nate suddenly inquired, reaching for one such appendage with his free hand.

There was a stutter in his brain as he was forced to adjust his focus from his anger to his person. His gaze moved to his hands as Nate's enclosed one.

They were completely healed. There wasn't even any sign of scrapping from pavement or any sort of injury and that was probably all thanks to Lucifer having healed him after the Fallen had first found him A part of him wished he hadn't. "Surprisingly fine. Seems Theo's quick actions yesterday had done the work."

The sudden silence was deafening and his head came up so fast, the grips on his shoulders became painful as they attempted to keep him still. He brought his head around, defensive and unsure. He opened his mouth to say something - anything - but the only thing that seemed to come out was one measly word. "What?"

Roderick's hand was heavy and he turned, looking at his gruff boss. "Michael." He felt his stomach drop. Roderick never called him by his first name. "You've been missing for three days."

There seemed to be no air in the room as what air had been in his lungs was taken away. "What?" he released in a strangled, breathy voice.

Nate spoke up, drawing his attention. "When we sent you home, Boss asked me to check on you the next morning. You normally answer any text I send ya, even if it takes a few hours. But when you didn't respond before your shift was supposed to start the next day..."

"We got worried something had happened," Ryan took over, his words sure where Nate's had failed. "We thought maybe you had been in an accident or something but the Bosses said to give you time, that injured hands could be making things a bit difficult and to not worry too terribly much about it."

"When you didn't come to work this afternoon without calling in again, Roderick sent Nate to your apartment," Penelope spoke up. "We hadn't expected the panic phone call from Nate. It had taken a few words from Roderick before he was able to understand why Nate was in such a frenzy. Your phone and your keys were on the table and the front door was unlocked but you were nowhere to be found. Roderick and I came here after we left Theodore in charge of the cafe, what with Ryan being so adamant about coming with. We were about to call the cops when you walked in."

Michael stared at the floor in disbelief. There was no way he had been gone three days. Two, maybe, but three? Had he been with Lucifer for that entire time? When had Jesus taken him to Heaven? Had it been night? He couldn't remember and trying to was making his head throb in pain.

Pain seared his back and he hissed as he tried to recoil from it but Nate and Ryan were there, hands keeping him from moving too far as Roderick informed him rather dispassionately, "Disinfectant. I want to get these clean before we take you to the hospital."

Michael shook his head as he gripped at a fistful of blonde curls. "No. Just clean them and wrap it. I'll be fine."

"Michael." It was Nate but he didn't look up. "Those look nasty, like something ripped your skin. You need stitches."

Michael shook his head again but was interrupted by pain as Roderick pressed against the injuries. "I'll be fine," he ground out.

"To hell you'll be," Ryan snapped, his hand on Michael's shoulder suddenly becoming painfully tight. Michael forewent gripping his curls to gripping Ryan's wrist, glaring at the blue haired man. "As soon as Roderick gives the go ahead, I am dragging you to the nearest hospital, even if I have to throw you over my shoulder, kicking and screaming."

Michael's expression darkened. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Ryan snarled in return, the threat of him actually doing so very real. If not Ryan, he knew that Roderick would.

He gave in, letting go of Ryan's wrist. "Fine."

Roderick's touch against his injuries became gentle and Michael rested his forehead on his crossed arms. Nate started combing his fingers through Michael's curls and Michael found himself relaxing.

"Just a bit longer and we'll get you some good drugs," Nate offered, voice quaking at the edges as he attempted to ease the mood.

Michael didn't respond but he did press into the touch. While it wasn't as sure as Lucifer's, he knew that Nate was just trying to help and it was honestly a comforting gesture regardless.

Soft chatter filled the air over his head, numbing his thoughts as the air numbed his skin. By the time they had pressed a temporary bandage over his injuries, he was shivering. Nate quickly slipped out of his sweater and wrapped it around him. It smelled of some soap and the faint scent of coffee. Ryan then draped his heavy leather coat around Michael's shoulders and Michael was enveloped by the scent of leather and cigarette smoke.

The trip to the hospital was rather uneventful and surprisingly quick. He wasn't about to point fingers but he was certain that someone had called ahead to get an appointment or something because they took him right in and gave him a local anesthesia before doing a thorough cleaning despite Roderick's attempts. Apparently he hadn't realized just how big the wounds were until he felt them working from his shoulder to the base of his ribs. In fact, there was quite a bit of fuss and talk of possible skin grafting but Michael only paid so much attention what with the others there to listen and comment.

He fell asleep somewhere near the beginning of the whole thing because he didn't remember feeling the stitches when Ryan and Nate left his sides to climb out of the car. He blinked blearily around, confused. It must have shown as Ryan gently grabbed his arm as Nate unbuckled him. "Come on. You're bed's calling your name. Docs want to do a follow-up due to how severe the injuries were and had not been ok with letting you leave but you were adamant even in the half asleep state you were in."

"Fairly certain I was asleep," he countered, leaning on Ryan as Nate opened the door. Up a few flights of stairs and he found himself back in his own living space. Nate hurried on ahead turning on lights and opening doors while Ryan guided him through the rooms, their bosses bring up the rear.

"You gonna be ok without us?" Nate asked as Ryan helped him into a sleep shirt.

Michael hummed an affirmation. "My phone's on the nightstand-" he wasn't sure who stuck it there but he was glad to see it, "and I don't have work tomorrow."

"You're on a week's leave," Roderick commented loudly from the bathroom. Michael heard the clatter of pills and figured that the burly man was putting the pills away.

"And I don't have work for a week."

Ryan touched his shoulder. "Do you want me and Cynthia to come by in a few days to keep ya company?"

"Alex and I have the day off tomorrow. We could come by and check on you," Nate even offered.

Michael smiled weakly at all off them, exhausted but touched despite the annoyance that curled in his gut. "I'll let you know. I'm fairly certain I'm just going to sleep for the next few days."

Roderick walked over and pressed something into his hand. When Roderick's hand pulled away, Michael found himself staring at a few pills as a glass of water was pushed into his other hand. Penelope was setting the pill bottles down next to his phone with a bottle of water. He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed a mouth full of water. He shuddered at the nasty taste left behind by one of the pills.

Penelope's gentle hand found his hair. "We'll drop by with food tomorrow morning. We've set alarms on your phone for when you need to take pills and I'll have Nate and Alex meet us here and they can make sure you eat tomorrow evening as well."

Nate nodded. "Alex can bring their game system. We'll just bum on your couch like we would be doing at our place anyways."

Michael nodded in turn, yawning. Roderick puffed up, gesturing to everyone, "Alright, time to leave. Let's let the poor sap get some sleep."

Everyone filed out, Roderick being the last. As the gruff man grabbed the door, he looked to Michael. "You let us know if you need anything, alright?"

Michael nodded, serious. "Of course. Thank you, Roderick."

"Sleep well," the man responded before closing the door.

Michael was shrouded in mostly darkness, the only light being the lamp on the nightstand by his bed and what light bled from the window. Situating himself on his front, he turned the light off and tried to sleep.

He couldn't get comfortable. His back itched and his skin crawled. It was like he was being watched or something else was in the room with him. He tried to move, to look, but his body was too heavy with exhaustion that even his eyes refused to open and focus.

Suddenly there was a weight on his back, a hand burying itself in his hair as fingers dug into one wound, a voice equal parts Jesus's and Lucifer's gleefully demanding, "Say my name." And then it shouted, "Say my name!"

He shot upright and to the side, his entire back flaring in pain but he ignored it as he gasped for breath. There was nothing in the room and he grabbed at his phone, finding it to be hours after he had been put to bed. He rubbed at his face, hand trembling at the memory of the dream.

His phone chirped in his hand and he was rather surprised when the sudden sound didn't startle him. A text notification illuminated the screen and he swiped at it.

It was a text from Penelope informing him that he would be having company in two hours. Turning the screen off, he placed the phone back on the nightstand and hunkered down to try and get a nap in before he had to deal with company.

He was relieved when he found himself waking up to the sound of someone knocking on his door.

His phone chirped, the twill far different than the text tone he was used to. Reaching blindly for it, he sucked in air as pain rippled down his back with the motion. Turning his face, he glared at the blasted thing only to see that it was a labelled alarm. He had forgotten they had done that for him.

He tapped to disable the alarm and sat up. The pills were already prepped on his nightstand thanks to Penelope so he had no trouble gathering what he needed and swallowing them with a long drag of water from the water bottle.

He doubted they would have any real lasting effect despite being so potent. At least, they normally wouldn't have a lasting one while he had still been an Archangel but now that he was Fallen....

He stood up, grabbing his phone out of habitual motion rather than actual need. There was the faint urge to text Lucifer and ask but then annoyance curled in his gut and he simply pocketed the phone on his way to the living room.

The urge to just flop down on the couch nearly surpassed his ability to not follow through, resulting in him sitting far harder than he would have liked, He winced when his wounds were jarred but nothing pulled or ripped so he took what he could. He fetched the tv remote and settled back, easing pressure on his back till he was equal parts comfortable and tolerable of the faint pain.

It was unlike him to settle on anything violent but, for some reason, the action flick was the only thing on that seemed even remotely interesting. The only downside was that it made him want to actually do something equally violent. He pulled out his phone, bringing up Nate's number.

To Nate: Hey, if you can, grab a game I can kill things in. Or break things. I have a need to break things and would rather said things not be real.

Dropping hand and phone to his lap, he glared at the movie irritated and in pain.

His phone chirped.

From Nate: Alex said they'd go grab what violent games they have and I've got the Lego games already packed. That work?

To Nate: Yeah.

He tossed the phone to the side, wondering if his sudden annoyance with everything had anything to do with his Fall but he brushed the thought aside. Wasn't like he was going to call Lucifer up and ask anyway. So, instead, he settled in to glare at the tv while his thoughts drifted around Lucifer for whatever reason.

Michael looked up when the lock on his door clicked and he pulled himself out of thoughts about Lucifer as he pulled himself to his feet. He smiled softly at his bosses as they entered closely followed by Nate and Nate's partner Alex. Roderick was nearly obscured by a massive bouquet of flowers and the sight banished the annoyance he had been feeling all morning with a good chuckle. Penelope was right behind him, deviating to the kitchen where she settled her small load of food supplies. Alex followed Penelope with even more food things. Nate was the last one in, a backpack slung over one shoulder and a good sized box tucked under the same arm. He closed the door as Roderick managed to put the vase of flowers on the table.

"Who's idea was it to bring me the whole flower field?" Michael teased, humored by the still very massive bouquet drowning his table.

"The entire cafe and our regulars," Roderick growled. Michael chuckled again. Despite the harshness of the words, Roderick was rather pleased with the flowers if the glint in the man's gaze was anything to go by, not to mention how he carefully rearranged a few. Michael would have bet good money that Roderick had rearranged the bouquet himself. His gruff boss was nit-picky enough for something like that.

"Extend my thanks, then," he offered honestly, meeting Roderick's gaze as the man looked his way. "How long are you guys staying?"

Roderick huffed. "I'm not. I've got to get back to the cafe because we're short handed and it ain't really anyone's fault. Penny will head back to the cafe after she's done making sure you lot have eaten well." The man shrugged. "As for the pair of trouble makers, that's on them."

"We'll stay as long as you want us," Alex chimed in, their voice melodious and pleasant. The smile on their face was equally pleasant. "Though, we were planning on staying till you crashed for the night unless directed otherwise."

Michael nodded as irritation edged his good mood. He tried to hide it as best he could, offering with a smile, "Sounds good." He looked to Roderick. "Thank you for the flowers. Hope things go smoothly at the cafe."

"So do I," the burly man agreed. He patted Michael's shoulder ever aware of the injuries Michael was sporting before leaving.

The small space was filled with good smells and chatter in a matter of minutes and Michael found himself on the couch feeling disconnected from it all. The anger was back and he fought hard to stay pleasant as the others prepped the table for breakfast. Nate placed the massive bouquet on the coffee table before offering him a hand up. Despite his desire to slap it away, he took the aid and wandered over to the table where Penelope and Alex were putting down plates and dishes full of food.

He was glad the anger wasn't affecting his appetite, at least. The food was delicious and he was certain he hadn't eaten in a few days. He certainly couldn't remember eating, if nothing else.

When the meal ended, he was banished to the living room with Alex as Nate and Penelope started cleaning up. Alex moved to the gaming equipment and started hooking the system up. Feeling useless and growing angry because of it, he wandered into his room in hopes that separating himself from the others would help.

He stared at the pills on the nightstand. His back was hurting but he couldn't get past the anger to figure out if he needed to take more pain killers. So, instead, he went and utilized his bathroom.

He avoided looking at the mirror.

When he returned, it was to find everyone gathered near the door. It wasn't hard for him to piece together that Penelope was now heading out so he joined them and offered her a tired smile. "Thanks for coming by. Let Roderick know I appreciated his brief visit, too."

Penelope nodded, a soft smile on her lips. "I will." Her gaze went to the other two. "You two take care of him now."

Alex gave a cheesy salute as Nate nodded, assuring her, "We will."

That stirred the anger within him, making it worse.

The video games only added to it.

He appreciated their attempts at getting him to relax and have fun but the anger was only building and it was a miracle that Alex had suggested eating out. It had been a decent idea and the change in scenery was nice but he was just getting more pissed by the second. Thankfully they hadn't gone too far from his home and it was stupidly easy convincing the pair to return without him after reassuring them that he just wanted the chance to walk home alone.

They didn't need to know he was going to find out if it was even possible to walk off the anger he was feeling before he went over the edge and harmed someone.

[ArtisticVicu]

RPApril Extravaganza 2018
An Assortment of Writings

RPApril Extravaganza is an annual event on a different site centered around writing. Each section contains the content for that given event.

Before you dive in, I did write to the limit to all prompts with word count caps, partially because I'm a sadist and partially because I wanted to push myself this year. A few were simply because the story got away from me as well.

Paw-Print: My Story - Dog

Our pets watch us dance like crazy around the house or pick up that food we dropped after the 5 second rule. They see that secret side of ourselves that we only show at home. And we allow them to see...because they can never tell another soul how embarrassing we truly are!! HOWEVER!! We are not alone in our silliness. Occasionally, we catch them doing something silly. You watch your cat go skidding over ice and then try to act like they meant to do that...or a dog trying to get through a door with a stick that is far too big!! But I’m curious and I am sure some of you are too…. What do animals do when we are not around to see them!! Are they as silly as ourselves...or do they plan for WORLD DOMINATION!! So I ask of ye, my wonderful fellow RPAer’s, what do animals do when they are by themselves! Please write in first person point of view. Minimum word count is 100 and maximum word limit is 1500.



Scribble a Little Poem

Inside all of you I can see
A poet waiting to be set free!

So during this month of games and fun
Let that poet free to run!

28 days you have to make your rhyme
Be sure it's submitted to the thread on time!

It can be about love or the beach,
Dogs, mountains, hockey, or a ripe, juicy peach!

Only once may you enter this contest
Guidelines? Restrictions?- we put those to rest!

On the 30th the winner will be revealed,
Until then, the badge shall be concealed!

So go ahead, take a risk and try,
Spread your poet wings and fly!



The Big Boss Story

This years' prompt for the ultimate short story contest is :

"All of a sudden, I realized... this was what I'd been looking for all along!"

The contest will take place from 4/1/18 till 4/23/18. Min. 1000 words and Max. 3000 words. Make sure you include the prompt, in it's entirety, somewhere in your story.



Time for Haiku

A Haiku is a simple poem, composed of three lines. The first and third line have five syllables, and the middle line has seven. There's no particular theme. Each participant may submit up to TWO entries.

My two leggeds are talking again, moving about in the other area, but I have found the perfect spot in the sun where the floor is cool but the sun is warm and I just, I don't want to move. I'm comfy.

They've coming closer. Maybe I should look up? I open eye to see my human enter the area I am napping in and I raise my head. I know that. That is not normal fur. That is outdoor fur. I know my tail is thumping on the floor but I do not care. My human has come over and petted my head, my face, my back, because of it but my nose fills with the scent of outside and it makes me wake up completely. My tongue lulls out one side as I pant, looking up at my human with my tail still thumping against the floor. 'Outside?' I want to ask but my human would not understand so I don't ask. I watch, I listen, and I try and understand but their words make no sense. I know those inflections, though. My human and my other two leggeds are happy. They seem excited, even.

I get up and shake out my fur. Thoroughly fluffed, I pad over to my human and look at the other two leggeds, watching, waiting.

The smallest of the two leggeds are sitting. Are they putting tougher paws on? I watch one grab one of the tougher paws and my tail goes nuts. I start bouncing about, stretching and panting happily. I want to bark but my human doesn't like me barking and I don't want to make my human sad now that they are happy.

My human has knelt before me. Their hands are soft and gentle in my fur as they talk to me. I don't think I'm going but I lick my human's face anyways. I like how it makes them laugh and rub my face. They press their strange shaped face into the fur between my ears before getting up. I watch, staying close. Maybe they will take me with anyways.

My human is the last to step into the outside. They look back at me and tell me things that I do not understand but am familiar with. It is their way of saying they will be back. I just have to be patient.

Patient.

I can be patient.

My human will come back and they will be just as happy as when they left. Happy human is a good human.

Wait, won't they be happy? Tallest of the other two legged is with my human constantly. They do things I do; they make my human happy and they are kind like my human is, though I prefer my human's pets. Tallest two legged gives best butt scratches, though. They will watch over my human.

How long have I been sitting here? Are they back yet?

But will they? What if my human gets lost? Will tallest two legged be able to find my human?

I do not like these thoughts. Maybe the plush mound with the noise box is better for seeing them return.

I pad into the area with the noise box - one of several, in fact, but this one is favorite of two leggeds - and hop up onto the plush mound. There is a see-through behind the plush mound. I have learned how to see beyond the see-through's coverings but they are open today so I simply put my front paws on the back of the plush mound and look out the see-through, It is better than the not-see-through the two leggeds and my human exited through. I can't see if my human and the other two leggeds have returned through it.

There are loud things outside. They are safe. They give rides to two leggeds and others like me. My human's loud thing is nice. I like the back plush but my favorite plush when there is no other two legged is the plush next to my human in the front of the loud thing. There my human pets me and does collar scratches as they watch out the see-through of the loud thing.

See-through, see-through....

Maybe I should check the large see-through to the outside. Maybe human left it open. Oh! Maybe human and two leggeds did!

The ground doesn't give when I jump from the plush mound in the area with the noise box but I am able to keep traction on the soft ground. I like the soft ground. I hurry into the area for food and find that the big see-though is indeed closed. I press my nose against it to make sure. The see-through doesn't like it when I do that. It stops being see-through when I do that. Human gives big see-through baths when I do it often.

I try the hole with a not-see-through over it. The not-see-through swings into the outside and I happily push into the outside., into my outside. I book it to the outside soft ground and sniff about. There have been bunnies and birds but I do not smell the cat from yesterday. Good. I must protect my human from strange animals.

My human.

I turn and try the far side of the inside, looking for a hole in the tall thing that keeps my outside separate from the outside. There isn't one. I try the entirety of the tall thing but find nothing. I go back to the inside through the hole in the wall past the not-see-through.

I go back to the plush mound in the area with the noise box. The noise box is quiet. I like it quiet when my human or the other two leggeds are not there. I sit on plush mound and watch the outside through the see-through. I can wait.

I wait.

There are many things in the outside. I do not mind. They do not come near mine though the animals like to. The other things do not. No strange two leggeds are allowed.

I don't like being on the plush mound. It makes me tired. I get up and return to the not-see-through that leads to the outside. My human and two leggeds will return through it. I will wait here.

Maybe I will nap. Yeah, nap. I lay down on the cool hard ground close to the not-see-through and rest my head on my paws. I doze but sleeping on side is more comfortable. I lay on my side and hope my human is ok.

I miss my human.

I miss my two legged pack.

I hope they come home soon.
Slowly,
gently,
The days pass on.
And evermore do the woes
from that of which is not understood
ensnare and entrap each of us
each in our own mind.

Gently,
slowly,
That from with death may come.
Ebbing and flowing from the edges of sleep
daylight comes to many
night comes to few
and around us,
all of us,
we each find our souls.

Suddenly,
aggressively,
Hardships steal us away.
There is no breath to breathe
and no actions to take
for the hardships steal from us
and they steal with us
till the end of days.

Aggressively,
suddenly,
The mind and the body clash.
Illness wrought upon these frail forms
once so strong,
once so mighty,
and yet there be a dissonance between
what is right
and what is fake.

Painfully,
silently,
Nothing to be heard.
So much lost to that for which has come
should it be death
should it be life
and the woes of it all
muting voices that should speak out.

Silently,
painfully,
The nothing of the damned.
For those that have spoken
anger and hate misdirected to befall them
belittling,
diminishing,
the importance of a single being
and its unheard voice.

Carefully,
cautiously,
Reaching out towards those that see.
Once the silenced had echoed
long and hard around those hiding
but now intertwined worldwide
no single soul is alone,

Cautiously,
carefully,
Walking out into the open.
Standing up and being still
never to hold back from the fight
so close,
so long,
so that the voices of the damned
- of the forgotten -
can be heard.
They pulled at his shoulder, urging, "We have to move, Victor!"

He shook them off, snapping, "I'm not leaving Emily alone in this!" He took a step away, slashing at the air. "Take the others and get out of here. I'll follow as soon as I find her."

The one that had pulled at him shook their head. "It's a futile attempt, Victor. Trust her to find her own way out. We cannot risk losing you too."

"Then we'll just have to go with him."

The pair looked over at the commentator, finding a hopeful expression looking back at them.

"Logan," the one trying to keep him from going started but the one with the hopeful expression shook her head.

"Come on, Peter," she spoke, happy as she opened her arms. "If we all work together, we'll not only save Emily, but we'll get Jaden back as well."

Peter scoffed. "There's no way Jaden is going to get out of this doing well."

Logan's expression broke a bit and desperation colored her hope. "He's our friend, Peter! How can you just give up on him like that? We know him and this isn't him."

"Isn't it?" Peter barked, turning on her. "He's the one that killed Orion and is now holding Xavier hostage. Clearly it's in his nature."

"Regardless of his nature," Victor cut in, drawing their attention back to him. His gaze was ablaze with determination. "I am not letting Emily try and get in there on her own." His expression softened as he put his hand out, palm down. "And I would not turn you away if you would join me." His gaze wandered over the few others that were part of their little group. "Any of you." His chest tightened. "Please. I can't do this alone."

Logan's hand settled over his first and gave it a brief squeeze. She flashed him a grin. "You'll never be alone. Not in this."

A hand settled over Logan's. "Never."

Victor looked up at the new comer and felt his chest tighten. He offered them a smile. "Thank you, Conner."

Conner nodded as two others added their hands to the pile. The one who had placed their hand on top of Conner's flashed him a smile as they wrapped an arm around Logan's shoulder, their twin mimicking them gesture for gesture.

"Same with us," the first twin assured him.

The second gave him a wink. "We've been itching to make a racket for some time now."

He chuckled. "I'm sure you two have." His gaze drifted over to the last one he hoped was with him. "Peter?"

Peter had his arms crossed, gaze elsewhere, but then he sighed and uncrossed his arms. Victor felt his heart leap when Peter's hand topped the pile. "Someone had to make sure the twins don't screw this up."

There was laughter around the group but Victor didn't care. He wasn't going to be doing this alone.

He gave a sharp nod. "Then let us get moving." He dropped his hand and turned towards the castle they were about to storm. "We need to find Emily before she gets the chance to run into Jaden."

"Leave the soldiers to me, then," Conner spoke. "We'll create as much of a diversion as we can."

"Just don't drop the castle on our head," the first twin teased.

The second added almost sassily, "That's our job."

Conner nodded, offering honestly, "I will do my best to leave that up to you, then."

The twins both clapped him on the shoulders as the man moved back towards their forces. Victor watched him leave before turning his gaze to Peter and Logan. "We need a plan to get in and find Emily." His gaze turned to the twins. 'Marcus? Derrick? Ideas?"

The pair gained thoughtful expressions before the second twin spoke, "We could find a way in."

"Then we go as a group," Peter spoke. "We'll leave the tracking to Logan." Peter's gaze turned to Victor. "I'll work from the back."

Victor nodded. "Leave any confrontations to me." He turned his gaze to the twins. "Marcus, you with me?"

The second twin nodded. "Derrick will go with Logan as support."

The first twin grinned as he wrapped an arm around Logan's shoulders. "Sounds like we'll be partners, Squirt."

She grinned. "I look forward to having your aid." She looked to Victor. "When do we move out."

"Now, if everyone is ready." He gained a collective confirmation. He looked to Logan. "Let Conner know we're heading out. Catch up with us when you're done."

Logan nodded and slipped out from under Derrick's arm. He let his arm fall, settling at his twin's side. Victor gave one last look over his team and those beyond before nodding. "Alright. Let's get going, then."

Marcus and Derrick took point, Victor behind them with Peter right behind him. They made their way to the castle and it wasn't till they stopped at the edge of the grounds when Logan joined them. She settled between Peter and Victor silently as they all hunkered down.

"Anything to report?" Victor asked in a soft voice.

Logan shook her head. "Only that we should be able to hear when they start their assault."

Victor turned his gaze to the twins. "Do your thing. We'll wait for your signal."

The pair saluted with identical grins before shapeshifting. Marcus took the grounds as a fox as Derrick took to the sky as a crow. Victor looked to Peter. "Any preparations you need to do?"

Light flared from Peter's staff and the mage was once more in his proper mage attire, robes settling around him as he pulled at the brim of his pointed hat. "No," Peter informed him. "I am ready for when I am needed."

He nodded and looked to Logan. "You ready?"

She grinned at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet where she squatted with them in the bushes. "Always. All I need is the signal."

Victor nodded and looked out.

They stayed there in silence for what felt like hours but, really, it was closer to a quarter of an hour. The sound of explosions and shouting came from first the front gates and then from the back of the castle and Victor sat up straighter, looking towards the sounds from the front gates even though he couldn't actually see them. "It would seem that Conner has started the assault."

Logan rolled forward onto her knees, pointed towards the castle as she said, "And there's our signal."

Victor looked where she was pointing, finding a fox sitting near the castle wall, a crow circling over the fox's head before taking off towards the back of the castle.

Victor was over the bushes first, Logan right beside him and Peter bringing up the rear. The sigil circle of Peter's spell wrote itself in midair around them, blazed for a moment, and went out. Auras shimmered around the three of them as they ran out into the open.

The shields took no damage and they didn't slow as the fox took off after the crow leading the way. They rounded a corner and found the twins as humans waiting for them in an alcove. A sigil circle wrote itself swiftly around each twin before blazing for a brief moment and disappearing. Their own shields shimmered briefly before becoming transparent like the others.

Logan didn't even need to ask. She was through the side entrance before Peter and Victor could slow to a stop. Derrick was right behind her as he shapeshifted into a fox. Marcus remained human, keeping pace with Victor.

There was a flash of light from behind them as Peter sealed the way and Victor looked to Marcus, directing, "Stay with Peter. I'll be the point in any confrontation. Protect him at any cost."

Marcus nodded and fell back. Victor turned his gaze back on the fox and ranger leading the charge and sped up so as not to lose them, not that they would allow it. As Logan dashed ahead, Derrick would stop to make sure that Victor and the others knew where they had gone before hurrying after Logan.

It wasn't till they were in the heart of the castle that Logan stopped. She waited for them to join her before stating, "We're going to have a problem."

"And what is that?" Victor ask, a sense of foreboding settling over him.

"I think Jaden knows Emily is here."

Victor groaned as Peter demanded, "And how exactly did you come to that conclusion."

Logan met his gaze unblinking. "Derrick confirmed that Jaden's scent is heavier over Emily's and heads in the same direction. Either it's coincidence or he's aware." She turned, pointing down the hall. "However, he turned there as Emily continued ahead. Derrick is currently seeing if their scents cross again."

"They do," a voice spoke from the shadows and a fox leapt towards them shifting into Derrick in midair. "But there may be more issues than just that. Jaden may have picked up a few companions on the way. Their scents are about equal in strength."

Victor nodded. "Follow Emily's trail." His gaze flickered to Logan. "Be quick. Knowing Emily, she may be setting a trap. We need to make sure it never gets tripped."

Derrick became a fox again as Logan took off down the hall. Victor was quick to follow flanked by Marcus and Peter. This way and that the trail led and the sounds of the battles outside ebbed in and out.

A rumble shook the ground they were standing on, dust raining down from the ceiling above them. Victor frowned, looking up. "Sounds like we're running out of time." He looked over at Peter. "Thoughts?"

Peter's expression was tight. "Move quickly. I may have a plethora of magic but even I can't bring back the dead. It would be wise to not get caught under the upper floors when they start collapsing."

"Man, I thought Conner said he would leave the destruction to us," Derrick whined.

"It may not be his choice," Victor inputted. "That sounded far deeper in the castle than their fighting."

"Whelp," Logan chimed in as the sound of armor clanking drew all their attentions. "It would seem that some of that fight has come to us."

Victor drew his broadsword and clasped the hilt with both hands. "Prepare to take them out as swiftly as you can manage. Logan, Marcus, pick off what you can. Derrick, get in close and make it quick. I'll keep what I can off of the support."

The incoming forces were startled to find trespassers so deep in the castle but they did not hesitate to attack. Logan and Marcus - ever so skilled with the bow - were efficient in taking out a good number of the forces. Victor was aware of their limited arrow count, though, and watched as Derrick dashed forward, keeping low and out of the way of the incoming arrows. Victor situated himself in the center of the hallway between the incoming crowd and the rest of his team. With a battle cry, he took out three with a single swing. That was the end of his luck, though, and the following battle was grueling.

Victor tracked the arrow count as he tracked what spells Peter used. Somehow he managed to keep himself in the fight to keep his head but even as the tank, he took a significant amount of damage. They all did.

Logan and Marcus went about retrieving what arrows they could reuse as Peter set about healing Victor.

"How is Derrick?" he asked in a soft voice.

"He'll be alright. Just a nasty blow to the head that I'll heal as soon as I am done with you."

Victor reached out and wrapped a hand around Peter's wrist. "I'm fine," he assured him. "Don't waste too much magic on me when Derrick clearly needs more attention than I do."

Peter sighed, ending the spell. "Fine. But I'm reinforcing your shield."

Victor nodded and released Peter's wrist, watching as the shield shimmered briefly when a miniature sigil circle appeared in the air beneath Peter's palm where it seemed to rest against the shield.

The spell was short and Peter was making his way over to Derrick as Logan and Marcus started wandering back from the farthest end of the hallway behind Victor looking for any arrows they may have missed. Logan grinned at him and Victor returned it, watching them pass him and wander towards where they had stood their ground where Derrick was currently being healed by Peter. It caused Victor to be isolated and he took the moment to rest alone.

A low rumble from above had him on his feet in an instant and the others whipped around just as alert as he was.

The rumble quickly turned into a cacophony of sound as the second floor suddenly collapsed into their hallway. Victor leapt away from the incoming debris, just barely avoiding being buried alive.

As the mess settled, Victor looked around. He was completely cut off with no clear signs of a way around. He made his way to the edge of the rubble pile and shouted for the others but he got no response. Fearing the worst, he hoped they would be ok as he turned and took off down the hallway. There was no time to waste with the castle coming down around him.

Deeper and deeper he went without any idea of where he was going. His only hope was that he knew Emily enough to know where she would have gone.

He ended up half right when he ran past a door slightly ajar that had voices coming from it. He backtracked and tucked his ear against the wood away from the opening. It took a moment but he recognized Jaden's voice among other voices he didn't. He caught words here and there till a single word cut through it all.

"Dismissed."

He jerked back, panicking. Looking around, he dashed over to the nearby floor length curtains and hid behind them. He prayed to whatever Saints were watching over him that he would go unnoticed and to his utmost surprise and relief, his prayer was answered for those that left the room walked right by his hiding spot without noticing. He sighed, grateful as he slipped out and hurried to the door. It was still slightly ajar and this time he peaked in.

He frowned and pushed the door open completely. There was no one there yet he had been certain that Jaden had been there. Something clicked at the other end of the expanse of a room that sounded oddly like a door failing to close. He booked it across the room and looked this way and that along the far wall and found a door ajar. He hurried to it and yanked it open, grateful it hadn't closed all the way. Had it, he would not have been able to find it. It had been made to be seamless with the wall and he let it close completely behind him.

Set before him was a long winding staircase that was intermittently lit with torchlight. He took it as quickly as he dared and soon found himself at the edge of an open door that seemed to lead into a small dungeon. In the center, strapped to a vertical surface was-

"Emily!"

Victor ran right up to her, not daring to touch her as she slowly woke. She was heavily injured and looked like she hand't truly slept in days.

"Victor?" she croaked.

"Well, well, well," a voice echoed behind him and Victor drew his sword as he turned, angling himself behind his sword. At the end of his blade several yards away was Jaden, a devilish grin on his face. "Look who decided to finally show up."

"Jaden, please," Victor urged, tightening his grip on his sword. "You don't have to do this."

"Oh?" Jaden asked, the sound mocking. "Don't I? Certainly you know that isn't right. You didn't see how Orion fell nor Xavier crumble when I took control. I did and all of a sudden, I realized... this was what I'd been looking for all along! This control! This attention! People are now listening to every word I say without brushing me aside just because I'm not as skilled as the rest of you."

"Jaden, we never meant to make you feel unheard," Victor tried, conflicted. "Please. Let Emily and Xavier go and we'll talk about this."

Jaden laughed, the sound echoing through the room. "You think a conversation will change anything? Come on, Victor! I thought you were more intelligent than that."

"Are you?"

Megan looked up towards the DM, startled. "What?" she asked.

The DM gestured towards her character sheet. "What is your Intelligence set at?"

"Oh!" Megan looked down at her sheet, fingers automatically sliding to the section she needed. It took a moment but, "13 with +2 from some trait, I think."

Her DM hummed. "Do you want to roll to see how you counter his monologue?"

"Such a beautiful monologue," one of her companions spoke, looking so pleased.

The DM chuckled, pleased, but didn't turn his attention from her. She picked up a d20, going with it. "Sure. I don't mind. Do you want me to state what I want to happen?"

The DM nodded. "!0 will be that action. I'll adjust it for higher and lower."

"Victor brushes the jab off even though it stings and tries again by telling Jaden that this wasn't the way to go about getting others to listen."

She rolled and the entire group watched as the d20 rolled about before settling on a 1.

The entire table roared with laughter and she chuckled herself before looking to her DM. "Whelp. So much for that. What happens now?"

Her DM grinned and continued:

Victor charged at Jaden no longer giving a fuck.
Stay still, keep quiet.
There is something wrong with the
people seeking you.

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

How loud do I have
to be, to be heard over
the noise of the world?
The Triple Threat

How far can you twist your imagination? In this contest, writers will be given three unrelated themes to merge into a great short story! But the challenge doesn't end there - we want you to write three stories - one each week for the first three weeks of April. At the end of the month, an esteemed panel of judges will announce the winning author, as well as prizes awarded to all who managed to write a story each week that incorporated all three themes. Minimum of 300 words per story.

The trees rushed by, the windows streaked with the last of the rain. Beside him in the back of the car was his twin sister with the file they had been handed before their departure. He had already read it but that didn't mean that he wasn't thinking about what awaited them. The fact that they were given a file spoke far more than either of them cared to acknowledge.

The scene wasn't a pretty one if what the detective had said over the phone was accurate, not that he expected the detective to have embellished or diminished the scene in any way. And, if he was being honest, no scene was a pretty one.

Especially cases with children.

But this scene - this particular case - was rubbing him the wrong way. While there were the obvious signs as to why he was being called in, there was something else going on that he couldn't quite put his finger on and it was clear at how his sister was glaring at the file that she was on the same wavelength.

The car came to a stop as his twin closed the folder. He took it when she passed it to him and tucked it under his arm as the car door opened. He caught her gaze, the flick of her fingers, and he let out a breathy chuckle. He agreed with her fullheartedly. Something smelt fishy and it wasn't the location. He climbed out and nodded in thanks to the driver. He looked over the small crowd of onlookers as his sister climbed out.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the location?" the driver asked.

"I'm sure," he offered in turn. "Thank you for dropping us off."

The driver nodded but said no more at the twins started towards the small crowd.

The crowd shifted around them, ebbing and flowing as people mingled at the road blocks. He looked about as he made his way through, the different scents washing over his senses and counting heads as he went. By the time they had reached the barrier, he had a pretty decent catalog of those present just by scent alone. His sister would have gotten those he had missed as she joined him and knew she had their faces recognized. She was far better at that then he was.

They were not stopped when they passed the wooden barriers. In fact, the two cops that would normally have stopped them recognized him, meaning that he and his sister were left alone. He took the first steps down the long drive and as soon as it turned, there was silence.

The trees were so thick here, even the soft murmur of those waiting at the barrier were silenced, the faintest of sounds bounding down the drive towards them only to be muffled and stop completely once they stepped far enough. All that was left was the ambiance of the forest at night and the low rumble of thunder from the storm that had just passed.

She shifted first, one second a human, the next a wolf. He followed her not a second later and the pads of his feet pressed into the damp soil. His nose flared as his ears twitched, things far more heightened now that they were fully in their secondary form. What's more was that they could now see better and they started trotting down the drive, picking up scents and watching for clues.

Whether a disappointment or the cunning of any suspects, many were familiar in the sense that they smelt of emergency personnel. A few he recognized and could name.

None matched any from the crowd yet.

The location's seclusion seemed to be working in their favor as he and his sister returned to their primary forms as they touched the edge of the main property. There was an argument going on and he was not looking forward to interrupting any sort of argument. The main antagonizer was someone he recognized only by scent. With the antagonizer was the detective that had called him, an officer, a special cases agent, and someone who was probably the field medical examiner.

It wasn't till they were a few yards away that the antagonizer snapped his gaze to them and pointed at them with a sausage finger. "And who is this?" the man demanded.

"I was asked to come by Detective Hansen." He looked to the detective and the detective nodded in greeting. He returned it. "The detective thought our skills would come in handy."

"Who is THAT?"

He felt an eye twitch when the man pointed the sausage finger at his twin. He resisted the urge to break the finger between his teeth. Instead, he looked behind him, verifying that the man was indeed pointing at his sister. "That would be my twin sister."

"You have a twin?"

The question was a simple inquiry, one that broke through the man's anger and turned most of the attention towards the approaching personnel. The questioner was a petite woman with a kind face and a curious gaze. She had someone with her he did not recognize.

He nodded. "There's a reason why it says Markette Twins in your directory. Generally most cases don't require us both but for some reason Hansen thought we were both needed for this one." He looked to the detective with a narrowed gaze. "While the file was useful, it doesn't explain why you need us both. It seems like a simple missing persons case."

It was the petite woman who informed him, "I am glad to see that the file given to you was filled to my discretion. There had been some information I wanted kept out of it in case others wanted to read it." She turned, gesturing for them to follow. "Come on. I'll show you what we left out. Detective Hansen, if you would please join us."

The antagonizer from before stopped, grumbling about agencies meddling in his work. He arched an eyebrow at the man but did not attempt to question what he meant till they were out of ear shot and even then, the petite woman beat him to it.

"He's from the local police force," she offered in explanation. "He was not at all ok with ICARUS coming in."

He arched an eyebrow. "Did he even know about ICARUS before you showed up?"

She laughed. "No but a call from a very high personnel got him to shut up." She looked at him, her eyes briefly flashing in the low light as she grinned, teeth surprisingly sharp now. "It's been fun keeping him out of the loop."

"Madam, please be nice," Detective Hansen urged, quickening his pace to be beside her.

"Any others I should know about?" he asked, returning to the main reason why they were there. "Any quillas or agir present? Any manipulators? Or is this team mostly human and vicuran personnel?"

"We have one angen and two controllers, a water and an earth. Beyond me and now you two, there are only two other vicuran present and two other humans from ICARUS."

He frowned. "Small team."

She stopped at the front door, looking back at him. "Didn't need a big one for this."

She pushed it open into what had appeared upon approached to be a rather old but well kept home of two stories. The paint on the building was fresh, the roof was relatively new, and all the windows and the front door had been recently upgraded. The house had even been washed recently. But when the door was pushed open and he stepped inside, it appeared to be abandoned, barring the curtains on the windows that kept onlookers from peeking in and seeing empty rooms and a number of lamps, each on complicated looking timers.

His sister tapped his shoulder and he caught her fingers flickering out of the corner of his eye. He voiced her comment, though it had been running through his own head. "Someone's gone through a lot of effort to make this place look lived in."

"A gardener was hired so that there was always fresh tire tracks and footprints around the property," Hansen explained as the petite woman led them through the home. "He was the one that called us."

"A vicu with rodent forms. He smelt the trouble without knowing what was wrong," the petite woman explained. "Nice man, if a bit up in years."

"64," Hansen told them, not that he cared much about the vicu's age. "Nearly had a heart attack from what he found."

They stopped at the door that he was certain led to a basement of sorts. "And do I want to know what he found?"

She looked at them, her gaze hard. "No, but you're going to see it anyways. I'd advise keeping your senses dulled. Too many have gotten overwhelmed by this."

Down the stairs she led them, Hansen behind his sister, his sister behind him as he followed the woman. He had been right, it was a basement, but it was finished, well furnished, and a mess. Even without heightened senses, the scents were pungent and made his eyes water as he covered his nose with his shirt. His sister did the same but she moved further into the space, aiming for the hallway on the one side.

"He came across the smell?" he clarified, watching as his sister's ears shifted into wolf ears, one pointed at them, the other twitching this way and that, listening.

"It had gotten so bad that even the new windows and walls couldn't hold it anymore," Hansen explained muffled behind a cloth he had produced from who knew where. The only one not covering their nose was the petite woman. Her expression was hard as her gaze swept over the space. His sister disappeared down the hallway. "It seems that whoever had been living down here wasn't much for cleaning up after themselves."

"They've been down here for months if any of the food decomposing is anything to go by," the woman explained, "but that isn't why we called you in."

A sharp whistle - one he was very familiar with - came from the hallway. The woman smiled as he started for his sister. "It would seem your sister has found why we brought you in."

He followed the same path his sister had taken and wandered the long hallway. He frowned, looking behind him at the woman, Hansen behind her. "This leads out from under the house," he pointed out, wanting a confirmation as he dropped his hand. The scent of damp soil was just barely there underneath the remaining pungent smells.

The woman nodded. "Quite a ways, too."

They walked on and at first he thought it was just a hallway till he caught sight of an open door. He jogged to it and came to a room he found his sister in.

His eyes snapped all around but there was no sign of the child that had clearly been housed there. His sister was standing in the middle of the room, holding something, and as soon as he was done looking around, he was at her side and looking over her shoulder.

It was a child's drawing, one that made him frown and want to touch but he settled for holding onto his sister's arms, smelling the same thing she had.

Her fingers twitched, and he couldn't help but agree.

This was certainly one mystery they were not going to like. Not at all.
The child's drawing in her hand was worn, the creases in the paper so fragile that it was on the verge of coming apart even with the gentlest of handling. In the center of the paper, there was a stick figure in a pink triangle dress with curls of yellow for hair. The stick figure was before a house drawn in a purple crayon that was nothing more than a square topped by a triangle with a few shapes to add the door, two windows on either side, and a circle window for the attic. Though rather normal, it was the thing with the stick figure in front of the house that had him concerned.

It was drawn with a black crayon in a heavy hand, no real form depicted beyond the mass of scribbles and two red scribbled dots for what was to be perceived as eyes. If they were meant to be something else, he wasn't sure. The stick figure looked happy, though, drawn with a large smile and two vertically elongated blue dots for eyes so beyond not knowing what the mass was or what it could represent, for all intents and purposes, it was a happy picture of a healthy, young girl with her friend, imaginary or not.

His twin's fingers flickered in the corner of his eye and he responded in kind as they both heard the movement in the doorway. There was no way they were sharing this with the ICARUS agents, not if the scents they were smelling were anything to go by. His sister carefully folded the picture as he turned towards those waiting for them. He felt her move with him, her movement making it seem as if she was just turning with him even as he felt her stick the picture in his back pocket discretely. He held the petite woman's gaze and knew Detective Hansen's human senses would not be able to pick up on his sister's deceit. The petite woman, though...

"Beyond evidence of a child living here, all we have to go off of is a scent," he spoke, his words covering what crinkling of paper and shifting of fabric there had been.

The petite woman nodded. "Any thoughts on the scent."

It wasn't a question and it caused him to narrow down what her other form was, barring she only had one. He didn't know this woman very well, only knew she was vicuran by scent alone, but he did know that she was of a breed he did not deal with regularly. He wondered if he would ever find out what it was, not that he was hoping to. Sometimes finding out about another's form did not mean pleasant conversations and hand holding.

"It's different," he spoke, his sister's fingers flickering the words. "Something we haven't come across before."

A lie, one that he knew they were not going to be able to keep for too terribly long.

He was certain the petite woman didn't believe him when she arched an eyebrow but she said nothing against his words. "Can you track the scent? I lost it shortly after finding it."

They both nodded, determination on their face. "We can," he guaranteed even as his sister's fingers flickered something else. He amended his statement with what his sister brought forth. "But there is more than just one scent in here. At least two of the scents are similar enough to cause us to think either siblings or a vicu. Then there is one that is dominating, that is fresher. Which are you wanting us to track?"

"The vicu."

He blinked, surprised by that. He glanced his sister's way and the look she was giving him told him more than any gesture she made.

Something was going on.

He looked back at the woman, offering, "You don't need us both to track the vicu. Let either me or my sister go after the other scent."

A look crossed the woman's face but Hansen was the one that made the decision. "If one of you is going after the second scent, it'd best be you, Adhara. Miko can guide us to the vicu and allow us to speak with it. This way if you do end up finding the second person, you'll be able to communicate." Hansen's gaze moved quickly to Miko. "I don't mean any offence by it."

His sister shook her head, a soft smile on her lips as her fingers flickered. He translated for her. "None taken, Detective. We would have done it that way, regardless."

Hansen relaxed and his appreciation of the detective increased. While the petite woman had some agenda, Hansen was still the same detective he had always worked with: thoughtful and considerate of others even while getting the job done. Hansen had been the only reason he had accepted in the first place. He and his sister didn't much care for ICARUS and how they worked half the time.

The petite woman shifted back a step, her exasperation showing on her face. "If we would get a move on, I would like to not lose the scent again."

He nodded and the two in the doorway started down the hallway towards the house. Miko caught his arm, though, and her fingers flickered.

-I don't trust her as far as I can throw her.-

He agreed and she knew it but that wasn't why she had voiced her opinion. -Try and stay ahead of them. If things go wrong, grab the vicu and run.-

-Do you think both were vicuran at some point?-

He flinched at that. The picture only had two 'people' on it but that didn't mean that neither had only one form. -I don't know. For all we know, the vicu could have been here long before the other scent. Which is why I'm concerned about what that woman is planning.- He gripped her arm in turn. -Stick close to Hansen if things go south. If nothing else, he'll understand.-

She made a face, not liking what he was implying, but it was a plan they both knew was needed. With a brisk nod, she left, leaving him alone in the room.

They were both concerned about the scent, the one that had been the strongest, the one that they weren't sure was the one the petite woman hadn't been talking about. Or maybe it was and whatever her other form was couldn't discern scents like theirs could. Still, he shifted to his default form, relishing in the natural in between state of his primary and secondary form as he shifted his clothing to accommodate the change. His high tech visor and headset appeared on his head, the visor coming to life after having been in some sort of subspace pocket dimension of sorts. He took a deep breath, letting the smells wash over him again before he started picking only one out, the one that had concerned him and his sister, as the visor picked out things in the room and cataloged them as a base function without any commands

He could hear the trio in the main body of the basement area talking as they started towards the upper floors. He stepped out into the hallway practically alone and followed the scent not towards the body of the house, but towards the other end of the hallway. He frowned as he smelt the other scent as well going this way, faint and far less potent. He wondered if it was because the petite woman was showing Miko where she had lost the scent or if something had changed or come up.

He trusted his twin would be ok no matter what. As dangerous as it was for them to be separated in mixed company, he trusted Hansen and he trusted his sister to hold her own when things got tough.

The pads of his feet touched soil and he flicked a gloved finger. The visor's screen changed, the edges disappearing and the tunnel suddenly became visible.

He just hoped he could hold his own as well as.

There was no gauging time as he followed the tunnel that had once been a hallway despite his visor's computer actually having an accurate clock. It would tell him how long the blasted trip was in travel time and distance at the end even without his prompting. There had been a good number of other rooms he had passed along the way, some even in the tunnel system like dungeon cells, and while he did a cursory check of all of them, the scents all led in the same direction.

On and on the tunnel stretched. On and on he walked. Branches appeared here and there, his visor cataloging each one and creating a minimap in the upper left of his vision, but he followed the scents, followed them down branches of the tunnel he would never have walked had he not been following a scent. This way and that they weaved and even times down passages he would have normally missed in the complete darkness that even his visor had glanced over.

There was a flicker from the minimap and several dots appeared on it as it zoomed out for a moment. It would seem the computer had recognized it may have missed things and retraced its steps. The minimap returned to the original zoom level as he slipped into the crevice. There would be time to correct the map later. Right now he needed to see where these scents were going.

He found himself stumbling out into the heart of the woods from a crevice in the rocky hillside that would have never drawn his attention, the visor automatically changing colors and light levels with the light of a partial moon. He flicked a gloved finger and the minimap filled his view. A few gestures had the map rotating about and zooming out. Orientated with north at the top, the map appeared to be projected between the trees and he watched as the house was overlaid and then a map of the lands before a measurement between him and the house was input.

He was miles away over difficult terrain and had crossed from the home to where he stood in a third of the time. He cleared the map from his view with a swipe of his hand and input a few commands. His ears twitched this way and that as he took in the sounds of the night, his nose still on the scent he had been tracking as well as the other scents that had followed the same path. There was a chirp in his ear letting him know that he was set to proceed.

The scents started branching off and it was only a few couple yards before he was following the single scent. He shifted his wings into existence in their secondary form. Like this, he was able to shoot through the trees without worrying about clipping a wing, though it did limit his height while adding to his maneuverability. On and on he went, the minimap in the corner plotting out the landscape and tracking how far out he had gone. It wasn't till hours later that he came across stronger scent tracks. He slowed, his feet softly touching the ground where there was a sudden onslaught of the single scent, heavy as if it had stayed in the single place for quite some time. There were no scents to indicate it had been chased away or found so why wasn't it there?

He looked up and his visor picked it out the same time he did.

He leapt to the side, rolling to get his feet back under him so that he could launch himself upward, his wings taking him higher than any normal leap. He latched onto branches, his wings equalizing gravity and letting him hover there in the branches.

Beneath him was a mass of black, formless beyond the pair of red eyes staring up at him. He shifted the visor back into the subspace pocket dimension of sorts he shifted things to and from, the weight of it still on his person despite it physically not being there. He raised a hand as he slowly shifted the rest of his attire, leaving him in a pair of sports shorts and a loose tank top. "Easy," he offered, voice soft. The thing launched at him and he shot to the side, shouting, "Wait!"

He rolled in the air, coming out upright and facing the mass coiling in where he had been residing as his feet pressed against the truck of a tree. He hadn't lost altitude so he was level with the creature but he could not tell what the creature was, nor how it was just hanging there. From what he could see, it wasn't actually hanging onto anything. "Wait a moment," he spoke, voice soft and calm. "I'm not here to harm you. I just want to talk."

The red eyes didn't blink. They didn't so much as twitched and he took that as a good sign. He slowly reached back, fingers finding the picture, and he pulled it out just as slowly, making sure the thing was in clear view as soon as possible. The red eyes shifted, focused on the paper even as he was certain he had not lost its attention. A low rumble sound reached his ears and he watched as the mass seemed to become agitated as he carefully unfolded the picture with one hand. When the image became visible, the creature hissed, coiling to launch. He brought the picture before him and the creature froze, eyes on him again.

"This is yours, right?" he offered. "You kept this to remember your friend."

"SisTEr," a voice echoed about, scratchy and inconsistent.

He suppressed his wince. "Your sister was a vicu too, right?" he asked, watching the mass slowly settle. "I have a twin sister who is just like me. Were you and your sister just like each other?"

"sIstER," the voice spoke, sounding sad even as it echoed about.

"Did she have this form too or was it just you?" he asked.

"SistER Was NOrMal. freAk was MONSTeR. FReAk SufFER foR FREaK."

He closed his eyes against that, sorrow filling him as he let gravity take hold of him slowly. He eased his weight on a steady branch before vanishing his wings. "But were you always this way?"

The red eyes were on him as silence hung between them and, for a moment, he wondered if he would get an answer. But, then, "fREAK HarmEd sIsTer. seNt to bE FIXED. bEcAME thIS. sIStER cAme tO SAve freak. fREAK CauSeD SIstEr morE HaRM."

"Whoever changed you took your sister to do the same."

There was a low rumble, a sort of whine. "SIstER NEvER ComE bACK. HE sAId sIsteR NeveR COmE BaCK. fREak FauLT nOT CoMe bAck."

He tried not to growl as the itch to break someone's neck rushed over him. Whoever had been experimenting on children - let alone vicuran children - needed to be taken out before they harmed any more children. "Do you want to help me find your sister?"

"nO finD HeR. FReAk LoOkeD."

"Do you want to try one last time? I can help and so can my sister."

The creature shifted and the red eyes grew rounder. "wOLF heLP FReak?"

He offered a soft smile. "I will help. But in order for me to help, you have to do something for me." The creature curled and he quickly offered, "You have to tell me what your name is."

"FrEAK," the creature responded instantly.

He chuckled. "No, before you were called that. What did your sister call you?"

"bRoTheR," it spoke, though it sounded slightly confused.

"Anything else?" he encouraged.

There was a pause, one long enough that he didn't think he would get an answer, but then the creature spoke again. "jAmIE."

"Can I call you Jamie like your sister did?" The eyes bobbed like the creature had nodded and he smiled. "Nice to meet you, Jamie. You can call me Ady."

"adY?"

"Yeah, Ady," he replied. He offered the picture to Jamie again. "Would you like this back?"

There was a hum that rumbled through him as part of Jamie's mass reached out and took the picture with care. It vanished into the mass even as he watched it get carefully folded. He shifted his wings back in their secondary form again and asked, "Ready to go on an adventure in look for your sister, Jamie?"

He wasn't good with kids, not really, but that seemed to be enough for the child before him as he gained another hum, this one far chipper and the red eyes thinned, portraying a smile of sorts. It was all he could hope for as he stepped off the branch and let his wings bring him back to the ground gently.
Jamie's mass came down from the trees acting at once like goop and smoke. It was bewildering and infuriating all at one. Who would dare do this to a child?! Not to mention that vicuran children were oh so precious. How the two children had ended up in a home that would send one, if not both away and not go looking for them when they vanished astounded him.

But, then, if they had been kidnapped, then maybe they had been looked for and it simply had been too long.

He started back towards the direction of the house.

"Jamie," he spoke minutes into their trek. "How old are you and your sister?"

"sAME agE. sAME tEN."

His hand twitched to press against his chest. "And how long have you been here?"

"here hOME. hERe BeEN Since forevER."

That was strong evidence towards one theory, except...

"Did you guys live in the upper floors?"

"yEaH. BuT THeN haRm SisteR anD SeNt To rOom BeLoW. fReAK no LiKE roOM BeLoW."

"That's where you were changed, right?"

There was a rumble of confirmation but nothing verbal and he didn't press. He felt sick knowing they were dealing with possible vicuran twins that had been experimented on. Until they were able to help Jamie return to a solid form, there was no way of telling what had happened to the child.

The silence was broken only by his footfall. Whatever Jamie had become allowed the child to move about almost silently, the crunching of leaves not like the way the leaves crunched under his feet.

He tried to not let it bother him.

The minimap was back but he hadn't gestured for it. Instead, there was a brief pulse of one location before the map zoomed out and showed two locations connected with a distance count and estimated time. Miko was giving him a heads up. He sent her a ping in return, watching as his dot turned green before hers did. As much as it was a heads up, he knew that he needed to close the distance between them now that he had Jamie or he ran the risk of having something happen and not be there for her when it does. He gestured the map away, looking to Jamie. "Can you fly in that form?"

"fLy?"

"Yes, like a bird." He shifted his wings in their primary form, massive white wings stretching between the tree trunks and branches before curling against his back. "Like I can."

"fReaK fLy. freAK FolLoW Wolf-aDY."

He opened his wings again, shifting his stance wide to launch himself skyward. Jamie was there, his mass slipping beneath him only to coil and shove him towards the canopy.

Had he not been used to such endeavors or had not been expecting it, he was certain he would have broken a wing. Thankfully the path was clear and he shot straight through the trees without injuring anything. He threw his wings out at the faintest hint of slowing down and he pumped his wings as gravity cradled him once more.

Jamie was suddenly there around him, weightless but with enough form to add pressure to Adhara's body. He shuddered, asking, "Can you fly without clinging to me, Jamie?"

"hEigHT."

"Height?" he echoed, confused till he looked down. "Oh. Fear of heights." The form around him quaked at that. "Jamie, can you move to my front so that I may look you in the eye and speak?" The mass shifted around him till the red eyes were before him, watching him. He reached out, hands pressing gently against the mass as if to cup the child's face. There was a rumble of pleasure from Jamie. "I was taught a trick of getting rid of pesky fears like that. Do you want to know what it is?"

The mass against his hands went up and down, the eyes going with it, and he realized that Jamie had nodded. He offered a soft smile and leaned in a bit closer. "When fear is upon you, you have to close your eyes," out of habit, he closed his eyes as he spoke the word, "take a deep breath," automatically, his lungs filled with air before he whispered, "and say the magic words: Abra-kadabra, no fear can control me."

Tears automatically welled up within him but he swallowed them as best he could. He was certain his eyes were still watery when he opened them to look at Jamie. He could deal with his fear for his sister, his twin, later. Right now, he needed to help Jamie.

The child's voice echoed strangely even as a whisper as Jamie parroted his words back to him. "ABra-KADABRa, nO FeAr caN cONtrOl Me." Those red eyes snapped open as a shrill, broken squeal caused Adhara to flinch. "MagIC! MAgIc! wolF-Ady kNoW MaGiC!"

He chuckled softly as the mass let go of him, flying around with no fear of the ground being so far away anymore. "We need to be quick, now. Your sister is waiting for us."

"SisTeR." The mass turned to look at him again. "LEaD. WilL foLLow.

He nodded before aligning himself with the overlaid map and shot off towards the neon marker muted in the distance. So far it was still blue, a simple marker. As long as it didn't change colors, the little trick would work just fine in keeping him calm.

He gestured for Jamie to remain quiet before starting to land. He found a good solid tree and shifted his wings midflight into their secondary form, using them to negate gravity enough for his touch to be light on the branches. Jamie was there with him, up against him so as to keep close and see what he saw. Or so he presumed. He wasn't completely sure beyond the child needing physical comfort now that there was someone there to give it willingly.

It was a few minutes before the marker flickered out and Miko was outlined through the trees. There was a trail that ran right under the branch he had settled in and he could just make out his sister through the trees when her form on his visor became an outline rather than a solid shape. Two other forms were outlined and brief glimpses confirmed it was Hansen and the woman. They passed directly beneath him and Jamie and while none of them noticed them - he was certain his sister knew he was there but gave no outward appearance she had seen him or even knew there was something in the trees above - Jamie's mass was quaking against him.

He had to wait till they were well out of sight and out of hearing before he was able to even talk to Jamie. He reached over, his hand sliding through half the mass before touching something a bit more solid. "Hey, Jamie. Calm down. It's alright."

"sisTeR," Jamie choked, the word sounding weird.

His gaze snapped around where those red eyes were pointed. His visor automatically outlined Miko. "What?" he uselessly asked.

"SIStEr," Jamie repeated with a far stronger voice, shooting through the trees and a breakneck speed.

Adhara followed, secondary form wings shoving him forward as quickly as he dared to go weaving in and out of trees while Jamie seemed to simply faze through trees. He made it in time to land between Jamie and the others, primary form wings spread wide.

"SistEr," Jamie spoke, his voice causing the woman and Miko to flinch.

Adhara frowned, eyes on Hansen who was staring at Jamie's hulking mass.

"Aujamy?" the petite woman spoke, her voice quaking as Adhara felt Jamie shift behind him, curling close to his back as if to hide. "Aujamy, is that really you?"

"no sIStEr?" Jamie's voice quaked as the petite woman's had.

"Ma'am?" Adhara spoke, his voice calm and soft to draw the woman's attention to him even if her eyes remained on Jamie. Hansen had yet to even twitch.

"Always sister," the woman spoke, taking a calculated step forward as she pressed a hand to her chest. "Nelila, remember? Nerry a Lily?"

She shifted, human form giving way to a brilliant dragon one. He felt Jamie move behind him and he turned, watching as Jamie's mass mimicked Nelila's form, trying and failing to become a dragon as well. "lily SISTeR, Lily SistEr, cOme foR FReAk siStEr DID."

The tears that welled up in those dragon eyes made Adhara choke on his own and he looked away, his gaze landing on his twin. She was watching Hansen like a hawk. The only thing the man had done was tip his head back.

Nelila nuzzled the mass that was Jamie. "Of course I came for you. I'm so sorry it took me so long."

"No CaRe, No cArE. SistEr HeRE, sIster here," Jamie happily sang, his mimicked shape losing form in order to press against her chest and long neck.

"I care."

Adhara caught Miko bristling as he had when Hansen finally spoke. The man tipped his head to the side. "How did you ever manage to escape, my precious Lily? I had so hoped to correct my mistakes on your brother on you."

The growl Nelila released sent a thrill of terror down Adhara's spine but he was more concerned with Jamie's withdrawal at Hansen's words. He skitted backwards, a wing reaching out to wrap around the huddled mass not much larger than Adhara's human form. Miko moved to place herself between Hansen and Jamie as Nelila turned to face him.

"With surprising ease," she snarled. "You, however, have slipped too far. I will make sure you pay for what you did to me, to Jamie, and all the other kids you tormented."

Hansen laughed. "Please. Like you have proof. Only you and Jamie survived. It would be no trouble taking you two out along with the Markette twins."

"I would be careful saying things like that," Adhara warned, his voice steady. "You may end up eating those words."

Hansen gave him a grin that was anything but humorous. In fact, it made the man look crazed. "You think so? After all I've done, you think you and your mute of a sister will be able to take me on? Do you even know why I did what I did?"

"Why?" he drawled, automatically translating his sister's sarcastic gesture.

"Immortality."

If there had been crickets, even they would have been silent at the sheer stupidity of that statement.

"Really?" Adhara asked, his voice contemptuous.

"You're vicuran!" Hansen suddenly barked, gesturing wide. "You were born with the ability to change forms, heal faster, be stronger, and then there are others born into stronger races, leaving us lowly humans racing to catch up with something we'll never catch up on." He stabbed at his own chest with his finger. "I wanted to be beyond that. I wanted to see if I could give a normal human the abilities of the vicuran or agirian races only to discover that I had found the answer to immortality. The only downside was that it was imperfect and I needed children to gather the purest forms of the materials I needed to create the perfect version of immortality. When I had enough to test a sample from, I would use the kids I no longer needed and the results were fascinating."

Adhara shuddered but he wasn't sure if it was out of fear or disgust.

"Jamie here was one such subject. I had intended to do the same to precious Lily here but she slipped between my fingers before I could do anything."

"I'm glad I got away," Nelila snarled, barring her teeth. "It meant being able to save Aujamy."

The grin that broke across Hansen's face made every fiber of Adhara's being stand on end. "You think so?"

"Miko!" he shouted, leaping at his sister as she turned to reach for him just as Hansen uttered, "Oscuramento."

His visor translated the Italian word automatically, the word 'blackout' quickly on its tail. For a split second he thought that it was just a bluff, but then Jamie's form went rigid and spines shot from him like arrows still connected to the body of the launcher. The spines were pointed at the tips and nothing was safe from the sudden hundreds of spines flying through the air. As soon as they landed, the spines jerked and became tendrils that whipped around, flinging dirt and debris everywhere.

A spine caught Adhara in the side, going straight through to catch his sister just below her ribs on the left side. Another caught him in the back of his left thigh and grazed his shoulder before embedding itself into Miko's. They got off lucky. Nelila took far too many and was dead before the spines could even change. Adhara took some satisfaction out of all this when one impaled Hansen right between the eyes. It was better that the man was dead rather than risk him harming another child.

They were thrown into the air and he wrapped himself bodily around his sister, protecting her as he shifted forms, wings in primary in an attempt to control their decent.

He hit the ground, hard, and felt a good number of bones break, a few in his wings. The cry of pain echoed on the trees as the sound of him tumbling with his sister filled the space. They came to a stop and he could see the barricade,

He didn't dare fathom just how strong Jamie was in such a state as he cried out, "Hey! Can you hear me?! Can I get some help here!? Anyone!" His voice cracked and he fought a cough as black edged his vision. He thought he saw eyes on them. "Please! Someone help!"

His shouting rang in his ears as it seemed as those that could see them just stared.
Five Words, One Story

Anything can inspire you to write. A movie, a song, a picture….a collection of random words posed to you by a strange Scottish lady? Excellent!! Every Friday five things will be posted. It is up to the writer to make them into a short story!! Let your imagination go wild, dream up a land where frogs and kettles coexist in harmony or a terrifying tale of a motorbike driven by a killer pigeon!!!! Entries may be anywhere from 500 to 1,500 words!

Each week's words are in bold.

He was bent low over the handlebars of his motorbike against the harsh setting sun. His scarf, red from the blood of his enemies, snapped and waved behind him in the wind, a flag of who he was as he made his way across the barren desert. There was no sign of relief from either the heat or the unstoppable thirst that ate at him. What water he had was long since dried up and it was only him and his trusty motorbike taking on the expanse of desert.

With no sign of shade or water, he pressed on with the hope tha-

A sandstorm came out of nowhere and a horse suddenly appeared.

"Mom! Amy's messing up my story again!"

The afternoon sun was high above the backyard. A boy was kneeling in the sandbox with a toy motorbike in hand, a red ribbon tied around the driver's neck as if it were a scarf. In front of the boy was a girl younger than he was with a plastic horse in the way of his toy.

"Bryce, she just wants to play with you," a woman called from the deck, a dripping watering hose in hand. "Why don't you include her in your story?"

Bryce made a face. "But she's too little! She'll just mess everything up."

"You could always learn how to play with her," his mom offered, voice amused.

Bryce rolled his eyes. "But I don't want to."

"Then I don't know what to tell you." She looked at him, serious but kind. "However, that sandbox is for both of you so you have to share. I understand that it is upsetting when you want something to go a certain way but things change regularly and being willing to work with the change instead of against it will make things easier."

Bryce made a face again. "I don't want to."

His mom chuckled. "None of us do, love, but it is what it is." Amy plopped down in the sand, plastic horse still in hand as she watched him. Bryce scooted away, not at all happy with her presence. "You will learn to be happy with being able to adapt to new things easily in a few years."

"No I won't," he spoke stubbornly, nudging his sister's approaching toy away with his hand.

"Ok," his mom said and the conversation fell away as she went on watering the plants.

Bryce, for his part and with one eye on his mom, scooted his sister to the farthest corner of the small sandbox. She giggled, clapping her hands as best she could with the toy horse still firmly clutched in one. Situating himself once more, he went back to his storytelling.

Time was running out. He needed to make it to the other side of the desert before-

Amy's hand wrapped around the ribbon trailing behind his toy and pulled hard.

"Hey!" he shouted, yanking on his toy to get the ribbon out of her hold. She was holding on much tighter than he had realized and the ribbon stayed in her grip. "Let go!" She giggled, finding this an enjoyable game as he yanked on it again. "Let go!"

He gave one last yank and the head of the motorbike's driver broke off, the ribbon slipping from the rest of the toy with it. He watched it bounce off of Amy's forehead. He sat there too stunned to feel anything as he watched his sister's eyes well up with tears.

She started crying and suddenly he was mad, very mad. His favorite toy was now missing its head and it was all his sister's fault. Without thinking, he picked up her plastic horse and threw it as far as he could. It bounced off the nearby fence and landed in the mud.

"Bryce!"

He flinched and, just like that, he went from being very mad to suddenly very scared. He looked up, defiance still keeping him from actually cowering and he gave his dad a look. However, instead of looking angry like Bryce had thought the man would be, instead the man looked very calm. Bryce folded his arms and looked away as his dad squatted beside the sandbox. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy get picked up and jealousy rushed through him. Why wasn't his dad holding him? He was the one with a broken toy.

"Hey, bug-a-boo," his dad cooed. Amy's crying calmed to sniffles as her attention turned to their dad. Bryce didn't look over but he kept listening. "Does your head still hurt?"

There was an affirming hum along with another sniffle.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?"

Bryce didn't hear nor see what she had done but he was certain she had nodded, forehead nestled on their dad's shoulder. There was the sound of his dad kissing Amy's forehead. "All better?"

Probably another nod for his dad turned his attention on Bryce. "Bryce." Bryce looked over even though he didn't want to. His dad reached out and ruffled his hair. "You ok, buddy?"

Bryce shook his head. "Amy broke my toy."

His dad's head tipped to the side still completely focused on the boy. "It was an accident. You know that, right?"

"But she pulled on the ribbon!" Bryce shouted, flailing his arms.

His dad nodded. "That she did, but her intent had not been to break the toy, had it? What had she wanted to do?"

Bryce frowned, already used to his parents and their odd ways with dealing with these kind of things. "She wanted to play with the ribbon."

"Right." His dad shifted so that he was sitting crosslegged by the sand box. "And had she been older, what would you have done instead of yelling at her?"

"Asked her to let go," he grumbled, looking away.

"And since she's younger, what do you have to do instead?"

Bryce sighed, annoyed. "I have to be careful and understanding. I have to give her something else to play with."

"And if she wants to play with you?"

Again Bryce sighed but this time he was kind of resigned to it all. "Then I take the time to play with her till she is distracted by something else."

"Correct. Now." His dad shifted Amy to his other leg. "What would you have felt had the toy broken and hit you in the forehead?"

"Upset," he spoke without thinking. "And confused."

"Right. And then how would you have felt had someone thrown your toy into the mud after that had happened?"

"But my-" Bryce started, angry again.

"I know, Bryce," his dad soothed. "Can you answer the question for me, at least?"

Bryce grumbled for a second before he did. "I would have been more upset."

"Right." There was footfall on the other side of the sandbox and Bryce looked up to see his mom walking over, hose in one hand, freshly rinsed horse in the other. His dad continued talking as his mom handed Amy her horse. "Sometimes we do things out of our emotions we would not like others to do to us. When that happens, when we do something we would not like, we apologize. We say sorry and mean it before correcting our actions or making amends. Sometimes others will not want to hear it but I'm sure your sister would be happy if you were able to apologize, mean it, and do something different."

"But what about my toy?" Bryce asked, not willing to let that piece up.

His dad smiled. "Your mom's already fixed it."

Bryce looked over and found that indeed his mom had fixed it. The biker's head was back on and the ribbon back in place as a scarf. He took it when his mom handed it to him. He turned his toy over, mulling all this over for a moment, before turning to meet his sister's watching gaze. "I'm sorry, Amy," he said and he meant it. "Do you still want to play?"

Her face lit up and she squirmed out of their dad's lap back into the sand. His dad reached out and fixed the sunflower barrette holding back Amy's hair before stepping away with his mom. Bryce settled back into the sand and placed his toy before him. His sister placed her plastic horse beside the bike.

The journey for freedom from the hot sands would be long and hard for both of them, he was certain. As his red scarf trailed behind him in the wind, he looked over at the rider beside him, a girl on top of a strong horse, a sunflower tucked into her braided hair and the sun glinting off of the shackles around her wrists and ankles. She was beaming at him and he smiled back behind his scarf. It would be worth it, though, he decided. There was no other companion he wanted on this journey than her.

It was her freedom they were fighting for anyways.
He could hear them coming and he wasn't sure if it was confidence or them accepting what was coming next that caused them to not even attempt to sneak up on him. Though, they could be trying for all that he knew. The castle certainly echoed something fierce and he wouldn't put it passed them to fail at stealth.

The crescent moon above seemed to mock him as he closed his eyes against its light, the evening's soft breath caressing him as he stood at the open window.

The door behind him creaked at it opened and he opened his eyes but didn't turn around. He listened to them approach, to those that had hesitation in their steps and to those that stepped without it. The group paused halfway in the room but one came a stop between him and the group and he knew who it was even before he turned around.

The room was bathed in the yellow light of torches, a sharp contrast against the blue white light of the moon that was his only light near the window. He had put out the torches on this side of the room for that effect alone. He figured if this was his last stand, he was going to make it look good.

"It seems you have found me, dear Hero," he teased, the smile easy and his arms opening in greeting. It was easy to fake this. He had done it enough times before to know how to pretend he was the villain they saw him as. "Did you miss me that much?"

"Enough, Neryk," the hero spoke, their voice weary and the name actually sending a spark of annoyance through him. "It's time this whole cycle ends."

"Oh?" he drawled, his lips curling into a sneer as he looked at them in disdain. "And who was it that initiated this whole cycle, Kyren." The name was spat as if it disgusted him. It certainly wasn't pleasant to say. "I have told you many times that this is not my doing. It is yours."

The hero shook their head but there was no fight behind their eyes. They truly looked as tired as they had sounded when they had first spoken. "No, it isn't."

He scoffed. "Fine. Continue being blind." He unsheathed his sword and gave them a vicious grin. "I'll just continue enjoying this till the day this cycle finally crumbles."

He wasn't sure how he managed to lie so perfectly because it certainly wasn't anywhere near the truth. He was tired of this repetition, tired of the hand he had been dealt, and he had tried correcting it, tried breaking it, but no matter what he had said, the hero wouldn't listen. And now they had the audacity to say they wanted it to end? It just made him even more tired.

Their swords clashed without him paying much attention. They had done this dance so many times, he could predict their every move with his eyes closed. They had been fighting for so long, nothing they ever did took him by surprise. Not even their cohorts surprised him anymore, not with the number the hero had been through over the cycles.

But just as he had learned the hero's way of fighting, the hero had learned his and their battles now lasted hours. He was certain one had lasted a full day but that was nothing compared to how abruptly this one suddenly changed.

They had ended up on the balcony. They always ended up somewhere where one of them would be cornered. As of late, the hero had started becoming the victorious one. This time was no different and he found himself up against the banister, the roaring of the river and its waterfall several 100 yards to the east white noise as he worked to remain on top even with himself being cornered and the hero bound to win.

A slash at him forced him backwards and his back collided with the banister harder than he had intended.

The crack broke through the white noise of the water below as he realized he was going farther back than was safe.

The horror on the hero's face was new as he fell backwards off the balcony, watching as they leapt towards him with an outstretched hand and missed, the butterfly birthmark on the inside of their left wrist stark against their skin as their armor shifted enough for it to peak out.

The water was ice cold when he hit it but what killed him was the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall.

It seemed to have been enough, though, for he woke up groggy and in a new body with memories of a simple life, a modern life. It had been quite a few cycles since they had ended up in a modern era. Certainly wasn't futuristic if the torn jeans he was wearing and the tv in the corner were anything to go by. At least this time he was an adult living on their own. The last time he had ended up in a modern time, he had either a family to deal with or had been a kid.

Those had always been the hardest. Even with the ones that had families or relations that weren't very kind or loving, there was always someone there to shower him in unconditional love and companionship. Those were the hardest to leave.

He slowly moved to a sitting position the couch. Memories of the life he didn't actually live told him that waking on the couch was a common occurrence and he wasn't looking forward to sleepless nights of nightmares. At least he was in an era where the tv and media player had timers on them to shut off after a certain amount of non-use time. He hated the ones where he woke up to white noise or the sound of some show playing on the tv. He hated the ones that had alarms to wake him upon cycle change too. Those meant he had no time to acclimate himself to the new cycle.

Pushing himself to his feet, he started to wander the apartment. It wasn't overly big but it was enough and clean enough to have him comfortable with the space. Maybe this cycle wouldn't be like previous ones. Maybe he would actually get to live a normal life.

He doubted that whatever deity was controlling his cruel fate would be that kind.

The apartment was cleaned and reorganized before the sun set 12 hours later. Hungry, he entered the kitchen to see what he could throw together with what was in there. There were several containers of leftovers and he grabbed one, the memories of the life before his arrival informing him what the food was supposed to be and when it had been made. He glanced at the closest calendar. The food was still good and he went about reheating it.

There was a knock on the door when the microwave beeped. He glanced towards the door frowning but he took the time to remove his freshly warmed food and a fork from the silverware drawer before he even moved towards his front door to answer it.

He pulled it open with the fork in his mouth, a bite of the surprisingly delicious food resting on his tongue. He blinked at the person on the other side, not at all concerned with the fact that he was currently shirtless and in sweat pants. He had every intent of going to bed after his meal and his unexpected guest was not going to change that.

He arched an eyebrow at them as he pulled the fork from between his lips, chewing on his bite.

The stranger didn't seemed to need him to speak for their raised their left hand, baring their wrist for him.

He choked on his food when the butterfly registered in his brain.

He glared at them, snapping around what food remained in his mouth, "How the fuck did you find me so quickly and why the hell are you here?"

"I want to talk."

He gave them a flat look but the hero never looked away. Instead, their calm gaze met his and, for the first time since this all began, he realized he was probably looking at the closest accurate reincarnation of his foe. Dark skin, darker eyes and hair, and the pale butterfly birthmark, all of it on a toned male body. He was still white as he had ever been with the same brown hair and brown eyes. Plain, bland, and with a crescent moon birthmark on his right hip that even now was visible. He hated all of it.

"About what?" he challenged, not moving from where he stood with his dinner still in hand, fork included.

A look crossed the hero's face. "This."

They were across the threshold, hands soft and warm on his cheeks as their lips clashed.
{Continues in Week 3 - Fatal Fantasies}
{Continues Week 2 - Life Cycles}
His breath caught in his throat as his mind zeroed in on the other's lips pressed against his. He reached out and blindly grabbed at the other, fisting their shirt when the fabric touched his fingertips. He pulled them close, egging them on as his tongue sought theirs, the rush of sensation - of the taste - wrapped around him so thoroughly that he was dizzy from it.

Just as with everything before, the hero pressed him, tongue fighting his in the heated kiss, not letting him dominate even as he tried to. But, then, that was the only thing he was trying to dominate in.

The higher parts of his shoulders pressed against some wall meaning he had nowhere to go as the hero pressed fully against him and he didn't even know they had moved, had thought the vertigo was from the kiss, but the pressure brought his attention away and their hands were pressed against his skin under his shirt, caressing his ribs from the front around to the back, fingers trailing down his spine-

He broke the kiss, gasping for air he hadn't realized he needed and it made everything seem sharper and he was shaking, sucking in air as the hero's lips and teeth found his jaw, his neck, and he wanted....he wanted....

"Wait," he rasped out, pulling to gain distance.

When had he buried his hand into those locks of hair?

"You," he said breathlessly, body quaking as one of the hero's hands rubbed up his back. "You wanted to talk." He tried to pull himself together before they did something they both regretted. "We need to talk before," a breath, a much needed breath, "before either of us no longer can."

The hero's pupils were dilated, hair a mess, and looking well kissed and far too gone in all of it that he feared they wouldn't respond. He wasn't certain he was up to trying to stop them if they simply kissed him and continued on as if he hadn't spoken. He might just catch the hero's face in his hands and say screw it before kissing the life out of the both of them.

But the hero pulled away, nodding as they blinked as if waking from a dream. "Right," they spoke. And again, as if they were making sure they had said it, "Right."

They pulled away but they were still close, a hand still against the bare skin just above his pants on his hip. "We need to talk. Couch?"

He stepped forward, legs shaking and he was scared he would collapse, would not be able to make it to the couch before he gave into the need for more, for so much more, but then he felt the couch cushions against the back of his legs and he was sitting without remembering that he had even walked there and their hand was still on him as they sat sideways on the couch, facing him and he couldn't breathe-

"So," he spoke, the word a bit shaky but it cleared his thoughts enough for him to bring himself back together, not that it helped him with choosing the rest of his words. "Is it true attraction or just some way of relieving some stress?"

The hero looked taken aback. "What? Why would it be anythin-"

"Because we've been fighting for countless cycles," he cut in, his cheeks burning. Because he had been asking himself for cycles and here he was with his highest fantasies coming to life and he was question it with the hero. "Cycles of us striving to take the other out and you arbitrarily decide that it's a good'a cycle as any to outright kiss me."

"You kissed me back," the hero countered almost like they were defending themself. A bark of a laugh leapt out of his throat. The hero's cheeks colored a bit and he found himself enjoying it- "so clearly I'm not alone in this."

"Yes, but I've been pining after you since before the cycles began," he countered, though it was a tad bit of an exaggeration and a slip of the tongue, not that he had much to lose with telling the truth. While the hero certainly was attractive in every reincarnation, their personality was less than desirable in the beginning. It was as he watched them grow stronger and more confident - and more beautiful - that he found himself falling for them without realizing that was what he was doing. "And where you had freedom for whatever you desired, I was stuck in the role of the villain, forced to strangle my emotions till they haunted me in my dreams."

The hero flinched but there was a fire in their eyes he recognized. "There was no way I was going to move on feelings like this and you know it." Their expression broke and the fire nearly went out. He wished it had stayed. He was familiar with arguing with them. "I would have loved nothing more to have stopped this nonsense when I realized what I was truly feeling all those cycles ago."

"And how long has it been?" he asked, his voice weak, the heat gone when they had none to give him in return.

"Bronze strawberries."

That enough for him to know which one and he flinched back as if they had smacked him. He snarled, "Must have been right before because you were vicious that particular cycle and the ones that followed."

"And I am so sorry for that," the hero blurted, startling him. "It doesn't matter what kind of thing we were caught in. I had no right to take my frustration and confusion out on you. None."

He stared at the hero, confused but strangely soothed by their words. He reached out and covered their hand with his, gaining their gaze. "Regardless of what happened, we now have this between us clear as day. And as much as the array of bronze strawberry statues still haunts my nightmares," he shuddered and they squeezed his hand, sympathetic and regretful, "I am more than happy to stop these violent cycles even if this is the only one."

He was certain it was bliss that filled the hero's expression before the hero's hands were on his face again as they kissed him. His back hit the couch cushions and for what seemed like a blissful eternity, his word was nothing but that kiss.

Searing pain filled his chest, one that he was very unfortunate to recognize as being stabbed in the chest. He hissed as the hero pulled away enough for him to see their smirk but not whatever they had driven into his sternum.

"Are you stupid?" they drawled, adding a brief amount of pressure to his chest. He gasped in pain. "Did you really think that you, the villain, would ever have a hero fall for you?" Another increase of pressure just to decrease. "You're pathetic."

And again.

"Vile."

And again.

"Pig."

And again.

"You will never have this."

And again.

"Never."

He couldn't breathe and his body reacted by instinctively sending him into a coughing fit. The pressure on his chest and whatever was over him vanished as he rolled onto his side as he hacked up far more liquid than was safe and probably vomiting while he was at it. A cold breeze washed over him. Or maybe it was warm for he realized he was drenched from head to toe and any touch of air against the water on his person seemed to freeze him. He shuddered, suddenly very cold as through his watery gaze he caught sight of a moonlit lake. He blinked once, twice, and the scene cleared, showing the Moon next to Venus in the sky, both shining as brightly as ever.

He jerked when something brushed against him and he whipped around to find the hero standing before them, a dry cloak outstretched between them as if the hero was making to cover him in it. He took them in, eyes wide with whatever emotion he was drowning in.

They were sopping wet, trembling, and flushed. Their breath was coming in pants as if they had taken great effort and it took him a moment to realize they were armorless, long blond hair sticking to everything, even their cheeks and forehead, blue eyes filled with both relief and concern and it made him sick.

"Get away from me," he growled, shoving at their offered aid as he stumbled to his feet choking on disbelief - a dream, it had only been a horrible, torturous dream - as he righted himself back in the cycle. "Haven't you done enough?"

Hurt crossed the hero's face and regret was bitter on the back of his tongue. He didn't take it back, though. Instead, he turned away from the hero and their cohorts and started for the castle, ignoring the cold - the sorrow - strangling him as he ignored the shouts of his name as he stumbled.

And fell.
"Oh, wow!"

The hall was full of people as he entered the building, a small hand held securely in his as his partner pressed their hand into his back, fingers clenching fabric. He want to reach back with his free hand but there wasn't room and his partner was ok. The touch hadn't turned clinging or desperate yet; they were just making sure not to lose him in the crowd.

Said crowd ebbed and flowed this way and that, people moving to where they needed to be, whether that was a queue for entry tickets or towards the true entrance of the establishment. Some, however, like the little hand tugging on his, were making their way to the first thing on display upon entering the building.

"Daddy, it's a T-Rex!" the little one pulling on his hand exclaimed happily, bouncing up and down in glee. It brought a fond smile to his face to see the child so filled with joy and amazement.

He scooped the little one up, hefting them onto his shoulder. "Big, isn't it," he commented, settling their weight properly on his shoulder. "It could gobble you up in one bite." He grinned at the blue eyes watching him. "Want me to feed you to the t-rex?"

He moved to heft the child higher up towards the open maw of the skeleton high over their heads and the child squealed, squirming in his secure grasp as he took a good beating for his effort. He laughed even as their words, though all in play, echoed right along with the rest of the din of the hall.

"No! I don't want to be dino food!" the child squealed between giggles and he brought them down into his arms where they squirmed and laughed as he held them close and hit a few of their tickle spots with quick, gentle fingers. "Daddy!"

He laughed again - breathless even - as he situated his little one on his hip, their head finding his shoulder as they breathed heavily from the exertion. He turned to his partner, their fingertips slipping from his back.

"Did they say they were meeting us in one of the exhibition halls?" he asked, reaching out and running a hand over the hair of the younger child his partner was carrying. The little one looked at him from where their head was tucked up against his partner's neck, brown eyes large beneath the mop of black hair.

"Near the caveman exhibit is all I was sent," his partner replied, shifting the little one's weight up again.

He nodded. "Then let's head in."

They started towards the entry point, weaving this way and that through those waiting for others to purchase tickets or those making their way to do so. They broke free of the worst of the crowd and he was quite happy to see the lines to enter were short and moving quickly. He looked to his partner. "Do you want to undo the strollers now or wait?"

"We can undo one," his partner spoke, shifting the child to their hip. "My arms are starting to die on me."

He reached out and carefully removed one of two umbrella strollers from his partner's back, padded against causing his partner pain by the backpack there full of needed supplied, like the old cd player with the books and their cds for when the kids got bored and needed something quiet to do. The stroller unfolded with a good shake and he pressed down on the lock bar to secure the frame open. He stepped on one wheel lock before pressing his foot against the other wheel.

His partner knelt before the stroller and placed the small child they had been carrying into the seat, buckling them in. The little one squirmed a little bit but was quickly placated with a raggedy stuffed dog pulled from the backpack's side mesh pocket. He let his partner take the stroller before hefting the child on his own hip up a bit higher.

He walked with his partner to one of the entry gates that was a bit wider and made with strollers in mind, not that they couldn't go through the normal gates with how compact the simple umbrella stroller was. Regardless, the gate attendant was welcoming and considerate, happily scanning the digital tickets before giving both kids stickers and sending them on through. The one in the stroller paid the sticker on their chest little mind while the child he was carrying seemed ecstatic. "Daddy. Daddy, look. It's a T-Rex like the one at the front. Except it's not bones."

He chuckled, looking down at the sticker. "So it is!" he happily agreed. "And it's green, too."

"I like green," the child stated proudly, like it was some achievement.

He smiled again, hefting the child back up onto his shoulders, this time situated so that their legs were on either side of his head. They wrapped their small arms around the top of his head as their feet tucked under his arms. He clasped his hands to their knees, knowing he wasn't going to be able to carry them for long like this but it made the next part easy at least. "And it's a fine color to like."

This way and that they weaved through the light crowd. Despite what they had first seen, the museum was large enough to swallow the crowds and make it seem as if there were only a few others there with them.

"This one?" he asked, staring at the direction placard next to a hall. He wasn't blind but he certainly couldn't seem to find the hall they needed.

"Should be," his partner stated and he reached up. Hands secure around the child's torso, he carefully lifted the little one up and over his head to place on the ground. "Alright, tiger. Daddy's getting tired. Do you want to ride in the stroller or do you want to walk?"

Their little hand found his. "I'm ok to walk, Daddy," they spoke, words reassuring as they patted his hand. "You just rest."

He smiled gently and pressed a kiss to the top of their head. "Thanks, kiddo."

He looked to his partner and they gestured at the placard. "Should be through this hall and down the one on the left."

"I'll follow you, then."

Walking side by side with the little hand in his, they started down the exhibit hall. But just as children will do, both grew intrigued by the things in the hall and there were many times they stopped to stare at the exhibits. The older practiced reading as they read to their younger sibling what the different informational placards held.

He never let them wander too far and neither did his partner. Together they kept an eye on both children even as they took a moment to fold the umbrella stroller and transfer the pack between them. His partner sighed in relief when he took the many items and their weight off of their shoulders. He secured them on his back before reaching out and rubbing at his partner's neck lovingly, reminding them, "You could have spoken up sooner. There's no need to wear yourself out. They'll do it well enough for us."

His partner chuckled as they shadowed the children to the next display. "I didn't want to burden you after having carried a growing toddler on your shoulders. Children get heavier as they grow, not lighter."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to his partner's temple. "I appreciate the sentiment. I still would prefer if you spoke up. We are in no hurry and can take breaks as needed." The children laughing drew his attention. They were holding fake antelope ears to their own, marveling at the change in sound. "They will certainly need many. This place is still massive."

His partner hummed in agreement but said no more.

They ended up running into the others. The group suddenly grew from his family of four to several families equating to nearly 20 people. There were a lot of a children, all excited to be together and hang out and it took some corralling to get everyone together and towards the main event space. He quickly scooped up his smallest as his partner walked with the older child.

"Come on, sunshine," he softly spoke, nestling the child close to his breast. "It's best if we don't let you get trampled, huh?"

The child burrowed close before resting their cheek against his chest and watching the world. He ran his hand through their hair a few times before securing both arms around the child and following after the crowd.

He watched as the older child received several balloons tied together to create a spear that was quickly smacked against his partner's head. Even as he and his partner laughed at the antic, he wasn't sure who thought it was such a good idea to give children things they can smack others with.
The Writer's Marathon

This event forces writers out of their comfort zone and into the challenge presented. Every day a new prompt will be available for writers to look at and take up the challenge of. The writer is given 48 hours to complete the prompt. Each entry must have 100 words but can go over. There is a maximum of 1000 words.

This is a continuation from RPApril Extravaganza 2017 (https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=95786&page=2&p=3073100&viewfull=1#post3073100)'s Writing Marathon and prompts are bold in each entry.

Day 01: The Fool
Day 02: Deja Vu
Day 03: Black Sheep
Day 04: Cowboy
Day 05: Mistaken
Day 06: Kittens
Day 07: Birthday
Day 08: Reflection
Day 09: Apology
Day 10: Glare
Day 11: Answers
Day 12: Elephant
Day 13: Debate
Day 14: Rainbows
Day 15: Warning
Day 16: Avalanche
Day 17: Perfection
Day 18: Let it snow
Day 19: Spaceship
Day 20: Caterpillar
Day 21: Travel
Day 22: Communicate
Day 23: Insanity
Day 24: Mirror Mirror
Day 25: Lullaby
Day 26: Criminal
Day 27: Memory
Day 28: Catastrophe
Day 29: Adventure
Day 30: The End
A static, low and faint, filled the void. After a while, other noises joined it: the shifting of cloth on cloth, a pair of rubber soled shoes connecting with ceramic tile rhythmically, a door opening and closing.

When the door opened, more noises were heard, though none were truly distinguishable. Though, if things were being heard right - and far clearer once the door closed - there was electricity buzzing, something sparking, and the sound of several different liquids doing several different things.

The something sparking stopped, though, when the door clicked shut.

"Aw, Diggory. I was wondering when you would be showing up." There was the sound of movement but it was not as close as the original sounds had been. It was about the same distance as whatever had been sparking. "Hard to get much work done when I'm lacking my assistant." There was a pause filled by the ambiance of the room before a chuckle was formed by the voice speaking. "Well, come on." Again, movement, and this time the voice sounded muffled, as if there was something in the way of the sound. "I doubt you need an engraved invitation."

The sparking sound picked up once more.

"What is the Crystal Heart?" a new voice asked, this one much louder, as if it was coming from the same point as the shoes on the tile had ended just beyond the door.

This time the first voice gave a chortle. "We have been working on this project for five years and just now you are asking what it is we are making?" The voice became muffled again. "Please, Diggory. I am sure you could answer that far more eloquently than I can."

The rubber soled shoes against ceramic tile picked up again at a much faster pace, the sound of rubbing cloth as equally hurried as the second voice, the much louder, much closer voice spoke urgently, "No." The sound of shoes stopped as something solid hit a hollow surface, the rubbing cloth dying away. "What is the Crystal Heart?"

"Where did you get that?" the first voice asked, voice grave and heavy as it came from the left, much closer now than it had been originally.

"While I had been cleaning the lab last week like you had told me to do. It was open to this."

"You should have well and left it alone," the first voice spoke, though it sounded as if it wasn't aimed in the same direction anymore. The sound of sparking kicked up again.

"How could I have left it well enough alone when the goddamn title was what we were working on!" the first voice challenged at a higher volume.

"That is nothing but a fairy tale!" the first voice shouted.

"IT'S A GODDAMN WEAPON!!" bellowed the second. The ambiance of the room was deafening. The second voice spoke again, softer but still as sharp. "Professor, I am not stupid. I may be naive, but I am not slow. I have found probably most of what has been written about this to have a very good idea of what you are attempting and I can't let you."

The first voice laughed. It was sharp, it was brief, and it was anything but humorous. "Let me? LET ME?! You expect me to believe that my lowly assistant can stop me from creating the ultimate tool for creation?!"

"It is a weapon of mass destruction!" the second voice countered, a plea on the edge of the words. "Professor, this will not only kill this planet but every planet in existence. Every star. Every planet. Every single molecule will be destroyed if you manage to create this."

The following silence was far longer than anything else. There were clicks and clatters but it was irregular and not always in the same location.

Finally, the second voice spoke again. "Please, Professor. Don't go down this path. You do this, and everything we've been doing, everything we've created up to this point will be for not."

The first voice gave a low chuckle. "You think it will all be for not? That all this will be for not!?" The first voice got louder, as if its source had gotten much closer, yet the volume of the voice dropped to a threatening rumble. "This was all for the final product, Diggory. I gave my life to this project, I gave you a life with this project. A homeless boy starving on the streets with no where to call home, beaten nearly to death. I took you in, I gave you a purpose." There was the sound of something shifting and though the voice's volume did not change, it moved away, causing the appearance of being softer. "And now you see it fit to bite the hand that feeds you. You are a fool, Diggory." The voice spoke, muffled as if directed elsewhere. "Leave. Now. Before I call security."

"I'm sorry, Professor," the second voice offered, heavy with emotions that were indistinguishable between each other. There was the sound of something being picked up and then a heavy book softly thudding close. "But if either of us is the fool, it is you. You will only bring your own destruction with this plan of yours."

The first voice exploded. "GET OUT!!"

A silence settled that even the ambiance of the room could not fill. It seemed to last for an eternity before there was the sound of shoes scuffing against tile before softly connecting rhythmically with the ceramic. The rhythmic sound stopped in exchange for the sound of the door opening. There was a pause with the sound of shifting cloth.

"I hope it works, Professor. If not for everyone sake's, then at least yours."

The door clicked shut, shutting out the sounds of the room left behind.

He opened his eyes with either the dream or the memory rolling about through his mind. Electricity shot down his spine at the slightest twitch and he hissed in pain.
The rain wasn't helping anything. Every drop was like tiny needles pelting against his skin and all he could do was lay there in torture unable to move out of pain.

An odd sense of deja vu washed over him as he stared up at the dark clouds. He wasn't sure if it was from the battle or some memory he clearly could not recall.

That dream - or had it been a memory? - had been without visual cues to tell him much about what had been going on but the conversation, the way things had sounded, had been more than enough to inform him that he either had some other dude named Diggory's memories buried in him somewhere or he was not who he believed he was.

Or both, seeing as he was now lacking his crystal, whatever it had been. The fight with the Other was hazy. He couldn't quite remember much of it or what transpired after the crash clearly but he was able to discern that he had been rather unfeeling through it all in more ways than one.

Whatever had caused that had ended as soon as his crystal had started to shatter and even now he knew that whatever had been affecting him was not as more rain pelted against him feeling like knives against his skin and the emotional drain he was feeling from everything that had transpired up till that point.

His thoughts wandered to his friends, his companion, if those that had the crystals had survived their removal. While his hadn't been removed, he certainly had his shatter on him.

That alone left the question of what had become of him.

From what he could see, he hadn't moved from where he had been embedded in the ship's side but that didn't actually mean anything. He couldn't actually see the ship nor any of the metal to actually confirm that but the trees at the bottom of his sight and the horizon he could see at the bottom edge of his vision seemed familiar enough to dictate he hadn't moved.

The sound of crunching gravel grew from his right and he slowed his breathing in an attempt to hear over the rain. It sounded possibly like boots but that was the extent of what he could discern against the rolling rain.

Then, suddenly, a fabric draped arm was above him, blocking the rain pelting him in the face. The sound of the rain shifted and he was swallowed by the sound of the droplets hitting the water resistant fabric as a very unfamiliar face looked down on him.

"Whatchya doing layin' in the middle of a rain storm?" the stranger asked, their voice reminding him strongly of Advena, it was alarming. The stranger's bright brown eyes roved over him, quickly answering their question for themself. "Jeez, buddy. Did a bear get at ya? You look a wreck."

He tried to speak, tried to ask something, but the words caught in his throat and he started coughing.

Excruciating pain flared from his chest and echoed quite profusely all over his body. The figure above him flailed, frantically trying to get him to still while also trying to keep the rain off of him.

"Hey! Easy, buddy!" the figure exclaimed, a cold hand pressing against his soaked chest. "Try'n lie back without hacking up a lung, would ya?"

He did it as best he could but now that he was half curled upright, the thought of putting pressure on his back again seemed like a really bad idea.

The figure was much stronger than he had anticipated and they forced him back down, earning a hiss from him as his back came into contact with something that was not the smooth-ish surface of dented metal. He cracked an eye as he was pushed back and found that wherever he was at, there was no ship, no crash, and the thing he was lying on was some sort of rocky space. He couldn't figure enough of it out with the blurry glance to understand any of it.

There was a shout from his right and the figure turned, looking towards it.

"I'm alright!" the figure shouted, the angle at which they were shouting causing their arm to move a bit and let some of the rain past. "I found someone! 'e's in real bad shape!"

Again he couldn't make out what this supposed other person was saying but the figure above him seemed to be able to hear it just fine for they responded with, "Yeah! Thanks!"

The figure looked back at him, brown eyes gleaming with some strange joy he didn't understand. "Just hang tight, buddy. My friend is comin'ta help carry ya back to our place. I would do it on my own but I don't think I could make it the entire way without having to stop a few times."

This friend, it turned out, was some sort of animal. The thing was massive with hoofed feet larger than his fist and a body that certainly was several good times larger than he was. The creature's head lowered and the black nose pressed against his neck, the breath warm but the nose itself cold. The black eye he could make out on this side of the creature's head was a bit daunting but what drew his attention were the things growing from its head.

Two great branches of very sharp spines curled up from the creature's head, shaped in such a way that it reminded him of hands curling together as if to cradle something. It did so in such a way that if the creature lowered its head and charged, anything in its way would be skewered. He was immensely grateful the creature seemed to be very aware of the danger its head piece seemed to be for it moved its head above him careful to not catch him or the figure that was keeping him covered from the rain.
The figure above him laughed, pushing the great beast's muzzle skyward. "Come off it," they urged, grinning. "No need ta treat th' poor fella like a log ya wanna scratch on now. Come on."

The creature - far larger than this stranger and certainly far larger than himself - took a few steps back as the figure pressed against the creature's chest, throwing its head back and snorting in supposed disdain as it shook its head, nose towards the clouds. He was in awe.

"You gettin' inta mischief, North?" a new voice asked and this burly, bearded man came into Diggory's sight where the creature had been, large hand coming up to meet the nose brought down and in the man's direction. The man rubbed at it, eyes narrowed on Diggory. "Sure 'e ain't a Black Sheep?"

"Nothin' to say 'e is," the figure still covering commented, shrugging, "and with the state he's in, does it matter? He needs help."

The man hummed behind his beard, the frown clear in the man's expression. "Fair enough." The man squatted beside him, eyes narrowed. "So, got a name?"

Diggory nodded, wincing at the pain the gesture caused. The figure twitched, looking to the man.

"He just got through a coughing fit from tryin'ta talk," the figure spoke. "I don't think we should be having try anythin' till he's tended to."

The man grumbled, though it almost sounded like a growl. "Fine," the man huffed out, getting closer. "Hold North still, Bien. I'm gonna pick 'im up."

"Wh-wait!" he coughed but the man's large hands were sliding under him as the word left him and he was hefted up off the ground.

He wasn't sure if he passed out or not from the pain but it certainly didn't help that he was suddenly shoved onto the creature's back.

Being upright was worse than laying back down. Everything hurt, his head pounded, and nausea played at the edge of it all. The figure clambered up onto the creature's back in front of him and then the man clambered on behind him. The man's broad chest was the only think even keeping him upright.

"North, home. Nice'n gentle like," the man ordered.

The creature snorted before it started towards the direction it had come. Thankfully – whether from the man's directions or from the creature's own natural talent – the ride was much smoother than he had expected especially with nothing between him and the creature's back.

No, wait. He looked down and there in the gaps between the three of them being pressed together on the creature's back was some sort of fabric. A heavy blanket, maybe? It was hard for him to tell without touching it with his fingers but said fingers were numb – probably from the rain – and even attempting to touch the fabric meant moving and that meant more pain than he was already in.

"How ya holdin' up?" the man asked, beard tickling Diggory's neck.

"Fine," he spoke, a light cough following the word. His throat was raw and he was now very thirsty. He tried to ignore it as he added, "And my name's Diggory."

This cost him and this time the coughing nearly caused him to pass out from both pain and a lack of air. It was when it came to an end that he was aware of the man's arm around his torso holding him firm against the man's chest. Even through the layers of clothing the man was wearing he could feel the heat pouring off the man and started to shiver. He hated that he was becoming aware of things after the fact. Otherwise he would have asked for something warm by now.

His numb fingers should have clued him but he had been rather preoccupied by the fact that any movement was pain and any less pain was a blessing.

"No need ta go killin' yerself there," the man spoke, his voice grave. Diggory wondered if the touch of concern was real or him just hearing things due to being light headed. "You ok?"

Diggory nodded even if that made his headache worse but it was better than talking and causing another fit.

"We'll get some fluids in ya and then yu'll be able to talk without much trouble," the figure riding in front of him replied, grinning. "Then we won't have'ta worry about hacked up lungs."

The man behind him hummed in agreement.

The ride was quiet after that as the rain continued.

A short while after the brief conversation, the man loosened his hold in favor of wrapping Diggory in part of the man's outerwear. Diggory's shivering intensified at that point but he figured it was a good sign as his hands started to ache as they were warmed as well.

There was nothing guiding the creature through the trees, no rope, no reins. And from what he could tell with being sandwiched between the two strangers was that neither of them were steering with their legs, if that was even a thing. His mind was foggy on that but the information seemed sound for some reason.

The trees parted ahead of them and the creature dipped its head in time for Diggory to catch sight of what had to be these people's home.

A cottage made of stone and wood stood proudly on a plot of land in the middle of woods. There was a good amount of clearing between the home and the line of trees but there was no denying the sense of being in the woods. The house itself looked old yet well taken care of. There was a garden against the far corner, ivy and vines climbing the stone walls and hanging from the wood roof. The entire thing was picturesque and Diggory was certain that it looked just as stunning in direct sunlight as it did now in the downpour of rain.

"Welcome t' our humble abode," the man offered. "For now, you are welcome to stay here."
He didn't know how to respond to that.

The creature came to a stop by the door and the man slid off first, taking his outerwear with him. Diggory gave a hardy shiver at the sudden cold rain pelting him. The man’s large hands pulled at him and he found himself settling into the man’s awaiting arms through the wave of blinding pain. His vision came back shortly after they had entered the home and he took in the space.

The entryway was rather clear of clutter and mess but the rooms Diggory could make out were a wreck. There were things crammed every which way, items stacked and piled in precarious places, and a plethora of everything else that, despite the rather clean mess, the place felt very homey, well lived in, and welcoming.

Instead of entering either of the rooms Diggory saw – one being the kitchen at the end of the hall, the other the living space to the man’s left – the man took him up the stairs, the figure dashing ahead of them and entering the door at the immediate top left of the stairs. They left the door opened and he found them following right behind.

Unlike the rooms downstairs that were clearly lived in, this room seemed rather untouched. He frowned, watching as the figure threw open the windows. The roof’s overhang kept the rain out but let the cool air in. He quickly discovered this had been done for a reason for not a moment later, the figure was ripping the blankets and sheets off the bed, a cloud of dust billowing up from the bed. The man took a few steps back into the hallway but the windows did their job and swept the cloud out the pair of windows on the far wall leaving a coughing figure at the foot of the bed.

The man chuckled, the sound rumbling through him from where he was resting against the man’s broad chest. “Could’a toldja that was a bad idea, Bien.”

The figure rolled their eyes, balling the sheets up. “Yeah, yeah.” They shoved the ball of sheets and blankets into a corner before going about remaking the bed with fresh sheets from the dresser in the hallway. The figure also put down what looked to be a tarp. With the mattress covered, the man walked over and set him down. The mattress gave a little and there was far less pain than what he had been expecting as the tarp crackled beneath his weight. With a nod, the figure said, “I’ll go see if we have anythin’ that’ll fit ‘im,” and dashed out the room.

The man chuckled, shaking his head before focusing on Diggory. “Any complaints against me changing yer clothes? Yer a right mess and theur soaked through.”

Diggory shook his head. “Just be careful,” he spoke carefully, earning only a small cough for his effort. The man nodded and got to work.

“If it helps,” the man offered nonchalant, “Bien’s gotten ‘imself inta quite a number of twists even as ‘e grew olda and I’ve been raisin’ that boy sense ‘e was born.”

Diggory chuckled, only to start coughing. The man’s large hand settled on his back, supporting him as the fit ran its course. When it was done, the man helped him lay back down carefully as Diggory offered, “Not sure if that helps, but thank you.” He gave a few more coughs but nothing like a fit. “So Bien is the boy that had found me, North is your creature,” he coughed again, “but I don’t know your name.”

“Armridge,” the man offered, solemn. “Ya can call my Ride if Armridge is too much.”

Diggory offered him a smile. “It’s no more a mouthful than Diggory and I don’t have a nickname in turn.”

Armridge chuckled. “Fair point.”

The man was ever caring, making sure to keep Diggory covered even as he removed every single piece of wet clothing. Diggory felt his face burn at that face but he could not deny that not being in wet clothes of any type was nice. The sheet over him was warming up against his body even as the tarp stuck to his bare skin. During the wait for Bien to get back, Armridge collected something for him to drink as well as a bowl of hot water and some rags.

“Bien will be bringin’ the medical supplies when ‘e’s done,” Armridge explained. “So, till then, let’s get ya cleaned up and on those fresh sheets instead of on that tarp.”

He was given one of the rags to cover his dignity while Armridge washed him. As much as he would have preferred a bath, this stung enough to remind him that it was probably not the wisest of things to do. The process wasn’t terrible, though, and he was on the clean sheets in no time at all covered by several layers of blankets and sheets.

“I got what I could reach,” Bien announced upon arrival with arms laden with a ridiculous pile of things.

“Seriously, Bien? Ya could ‘ave made a few trips,” Armridge scolded even as he went over to help.

Bien’s grinning face was quickly revealed. “Aw, come off it, Pa. Ya know it was fasta in one trip than th’ four it woulda taken.”

Armridge huffed but said no more.

This time Bien helped Armridge with Diggory, though they had let him slip into undergarments in privacy even as he nearly passed out from doing so. From there, his many injuries were tended to and he was dressed in soft clothing. He almost looked like a mummy wearing clothes by the end of it. Only his head and right hand were left mostly bandageless. By the time Armridge was tucking him in, Diggory was exhausted and ready for a good amount of sleep.

“Alright, cowboy,” Armridge directed at Bien. The youth hopped off the foot of the bed. “Let’s let ‘im get some sleep.”
“Ok.” Bien grinned at Diggory. “Sleep well, buddy! If you need me, I’m at the end of the landing.”

“You ‘ave chores ta be gettin’ to,” Armridge scolded gently, shooing a laughing Bien out the door. Armridge took the handle of the door and looked back at Diggory. “I’m across the landing and in the room at the very end on yer right. The bathroom’s the door next ta Bien’s.”

Diggory nodded. “Thank you.”

Armridge nodded as he closed the door.

The door clicked shut and Diggory heard the sound of footfall on the stairs. Settling into the warm sheets, a breeze from the one window that had been left open washing over his face, Diggory felt right to sleep.

He woke without knowing if he had even dreamt. The world outside his windows was pitch black as the sound of rain told him that any moon or stars that would be out were behind clouds. Not wanting to get up, he burrowed deeper into the covers only to discover what had awoken him.

Frowning, he sat up and listened hard. There it was again; a sound, almost like muffled voices. He got up and carefully walked to his door. It opened a crack without a sound and he pressed his ear to the gap to listen.

“-mistaken. He is to come with us.”

“An’ who’re you to decide where ‘e goes?” Armridge countered sharply.

“Sir, please. We’re not trying to cause you any grief. We truly are companions of his and wish to get him home.”

Diggory frowned. Though they said they were companions of his, he didn’t recognize either voice.

“Hey!” Bien’s voice suddenly shouted. “Where’d’ya think yer goin’?”

The floor outside his door creaked and Diggory leapt to his feet. The door flew open and banged against the wall as the figure on the other side lowered their foot from kicking it in. Diggory skittered back towards the far wall, hands coming up and feet splayed to give him the best stance.

His attacker raised their hand. Light pooled in their palm and the hairs on the back of Diggory’s neck stood on end. He threw his arms up before his face, forearms crossed as he braced for the attack as it was released, his mind flickering to the damage that could happen to a home so full of knowledge and memories.

The attack slammed into him but he didn’t really feel it. Instead it seemed to press on him till it dissipated and he looked over to find that an opaque barrier had formed and his attacker was lowering their hand. The barrier rippled and vanished as he uncrossed and lowered his arms, standing up.

They stared at each other only for them to both jump when Bien exclaimed, “That was so cool!”

Diggory snapped a wide-eyed gaze on Bien’s face peaking around the doorframe as a stranger stood directly behind his attacker. Said stranger quickly shook off her shock when Diggory met her gaze and the stranger glared at his attacker. “Honestly, Neryk. Could you have done anything more threatening?”

Diggory’s attacker shrugged. “I had to make sure it was him.”

“By attacking him!?”

“Ah, excuse me,” Diggory asked, cutting in as Armridge and a third stranger joined on the landing. “But, who are you guys?”

The stranger that had berated Diggory’s attacker smacked her forehead. “Great. Just great!” She rounded on the stranger standing next to Armridge and shook a finger at him. “You said that Diggory would be here!”

“He is!” the stranger on the landing squawked in defense, gesturing at Diggory. “That is Diggory.”

“He’s not wrong,” Diggory quickly interjected. “My name is Diggory but I don’t think I’m the right Diggory.”

“No, you’re the right Diggory.”

All eyes snapped to Neryk but Diggory didn’t care about the other. He frowned at Neryk as his attacker lowered their hood. He stared. There, standing before him, was Advena. Or, at least, he thought they were Advena? It was hard to tell so he asked. “Advena?”

Neryk nodded, their expression softening. “Welcome to our true world, Diggory. Sorry about not finding you sooner and for attacking you. I had to make sure you truly were you.”

Diggory frowned, too many questions springing up as he blurted, “How did attacking me dictate I was me? And what do you mean true world?”

Neryk – or Advena, Diggory was so confused – smiled softly and that expression certainly was familiar. “Your second question will take some time to answer, Diggory. However, your first, not so much.” Their expression sobered. “You were always quick to respond magic against magic and each person that has magic has a specific magical signature.”

“So he is a Black Sheep!” Armridge exclaimed sharply.

Diggory frowned. “Black Sheep?”

“A group of magic users that work for a foe you’ll hopefully never have to face,” Neryk responded immediately.

Diggory shuddered, memories of the Other’s attack coming to mind. “Please tell me it’s not like the Other, is it?”

Neryk’s expression closed off and Diggory closed his eyes against the sudden wave of dread. He reached out and used the dresser to keep him upright as he tried to come to terms with that.

“The other?” the female stranger parroted, confused.

“One of the Professor's elite subordinates we.....encountered,” Neryk replied.

Diggory flinched at that, his eyes snapping open and landing on Neryk. “Professor?”

Neryk nodded. “We have yet to discover what his true name is.”

“No, Advena,” Diggory urged, taking a few steps towards them. “No, I....I think I know this Professor.” A sudden tension filled the room. “Or, at least, I know what he had been trying to create?” He shook his head, pressing the wrapped heel of his left hand against his left eye. “I don’t understand what it was I had dreamt before I was found,” he dropped his hand and looked Neryk in the eye, “but I had a conversation with this Professor. I knew what he was attempting.”
"Do you remember what it was?" the stranger by Neryk demanded, taking a step forward. Whether an instinctual reaction or a thought through motion, Neryk's arm snapped out, cutting the stranger off. She took a startled step backwards, eyes flickering to Neryk.

"I apologize," Neryk offered. They lowered their arm but their hard expression did not change. "Force of habit."

The stranger nodded, though she looked rather uncomfortable. She asked again, this time much calmer, "Do you happen to remember what the Professor had been trying to create?"

Diggory frowned. The dream was almost nonexistent in his memory now as most dreams have a tendency of becoming when left to time but there were fragments and impressions of what had happened. He closed his eyes, trying hard to dredge up anything more as he offered, "A lot of it is faded now but I remember it just being voices and sounds. I didn't see anything but I heard all of it."

"Like, from a closet?" Bien asked.

Diggory's lips quirked towards a smile. "No. It was as if I had my eyes closed." He opened his eyes and looked to Neryk and the stranger standing beside them. "He spoke to me, spoke my name, and I spoke in turn." He shook his head. "It was like a memory more than a dream but I don't remember it beyond the dream."

Neryk's voice was gentle. "What do you remember?"

Diggory fell silent for a moment. "I remember how certain sounds didn't seem right without knowing what made them or only becoming certain when someone spoke of it, whether it was me or the Professor talking." He took a breath as his left hand twitched. "I remember that we spoke of the crystal hearts, but there was something more to them, like there was some significance behind their creation."

He blinked before turning his focus back on the stranger next to Neryk. "That's all I remember, though. If there was anything more – anything significant – I don't remember it."

The stranger sighed, looking mildly put out, but she smiled gently and offered in a warm voice, "That's quite alright. I'm just glad we have somewhere to start, now."

Diggory frowned. "What do you mean?"

It was the stranger in the hall that answered.

"We – as in us and a resistance group of sorts – have been trying to figure out what that man is up to," he explained. "No one had any ideas, especially none of the low tiered lackies, and none of the higher leveled subordinates would say anything about the matter one way or the other. It's been rather frustrating not knowing if they knew or were kept in the dark like everyone else."

"How wide spread is the Professor's reach?"

The stranger beside Neryk spoke. "Global, we think." She shook her head. "It's hard to gauge, really. While he's got a few groups that behave like gangs, there are a number that travel around and work in certain locations so it's hard to tell if his reach is truly global or if he simply has people all over the world."

"And the Other was one of his subordinates?" Diggory asked Neryk. "Not just some singular bad guy?"

Neryk nodded. "Though, I'm not sure why the Other was gathering the crystal hearts if the Professor's goal is with the crystal hearts."

The stranger in the hall chuckled. "Jasmine's going to have kittens over this."

Diggroy frowned. "Jasmine?"

"The head of all this," the stranger by Neryk explained. "The one leading the charge against the Professor."

"The majority of those working for her call her Madam, though she does go by Madam Jasmine," Neryk added, giving the stranger in the hall a flat look. "Some, however, find they can be more familiar with her that others."

The stranger in the hall shrugged. "Hey, at least I'm not actually using her given name. It's still her code name."

"He has a fair point, Neryk," the stranger beside them stated, touching Neryk's arm cautiously. "If Madam wasn't ok with it, he wouldn't be calling her by it. You know how traumatizing she can be when she wants to be."

The stranger in the hallway shuddered as Neryk relaxed. Diggory wanted to know more, wanted to know why that seemed to not only ease Neryk but also cause the stranger in the hall to react like that. But they were interrupted by heavy footfall on the stairs. A third stranger came to a halt just out of Diggory's line of sight. "Madam wants us all back at Base. Something big's gone down."

The stranger on the landing nodded, his face set. "We'll be out in a second." He turned his gaze back into the room, specifically on Neryk. "We have to go. Either wrap this up or finish it later."

Both strangers dashed down the stairs, Armridge following behind them. Bien, in turn, rushed into the room and up to Diggory. "Are ya leavin' already?"

Diggory nodded, smiling gently. "Yes. Thank you for all you've done for me. It really helped."

Bien beamed at him. "Glad we found ya, then."

"Neryk! Let's go!" the stranger from the landing shouted up the stairs.

Neryk approached Diggory and wrapped him in their cloak. The weight was more than he expected but it was warm and covered him more than the clothes he had been put in. Neryk guided him out with a hand on his back. Bien bounded ahead of them, taking the stairs two at a time.

Armridge caught him at the bottom, chiding the boy but letting him go. Diggory stopped before the man in spite of Neryk's pressing.

"Thank you," he offered, clenching at the edge of the cloak. "For everything you've done for me. I'll do what I can to return the favor and the clothing."

Armridge raised his hand. "No need for any'a that. Just take down those Black Sheep and th' Professor'n we'll be even."

Diggory nodded and followed Neryk out.
The rain was still going strong as they stepped outside, though it had become a light drizzle at this point. Diggory paused just outside the safety of the house and turned his face skyward.

It was pitch black beyond the edge of the roof. He couldn't see the top of the trees even though he knew they were there. The trees themselves were being illuminated but what light ghosted over their bark was too dim to truly see into the branches. As soothing as the rain itself was, the whole scene was rather haunting.

He brought his gaze back down to Earth, finding himself staring at two vehicles that were strangely familiar even though he was certain he could not remember riding in one. Neryk added pressure to his back and he glanced over.

The rain was glistening off of the illuminated strip around the upper rim of Neryk's high collar and down the left side of their chest. The purple light from their collar made the underside of their hair glow in a faint purple that contrasted against the sharp blue white that the vehicles were giving off in a way that was equal parts ethereal and unnerving. They're eyes were kind, though, reaching over and pulling the cloak tighter around his throat. "Are you ok?"

He nodded, comforted by the familiarity of them tending to him. He wrapped his hands around theirs, stilling their touch. "Advena," he asked softly against the sound of the rain, "who are we?"

Neryk's – or was it Advena – gaze softened. It made them look rather sad. "I'll tell you when we get a moment to breathe, I promise. But, for now, I need you to just trust me on this." Their expression hardened. "And whatever you do, do not let anyone else know that you do not remember who you are. It would be unwise."

Diggory felt his heart sink at that as his chest tightened. Hide that he didn't remember? How did they expect him to do that? Still...

Swallowing thickly, he nodded and let their hands go. Neryk withdrew, turned, and made their way to the second vehicle. Diggory took one last look at the house.

Armridge and Bien were standing in the doorway, both looking far more somber than he would have liked. The moment they noticed his gaze, though, the looks were replaced with grins and waves. He returned the gestures but his smile felt tight on his face. He wondered if they could see how fake it was from there.

Movement drew his gaze towards the left of the house where the garden sat. There, in the near darkness, were a set of eyes reflecting the light of the vehicles and a body faintly outlined in the darkness. The branches of thorns on its head seemed to glow of their own light, though, as the creature turned its head and continued walking beyond the side of the house and out of sight. The whole thing make him shudder and look one last time at Bien and Armridge. Who exactly were these people?

Turning away, he hurried to Neryk's side who was standing by the open back door of the second vehicle. Their gaze was searching but for what he couldn't tell.

He slid across the seat to the far side against the other door. The vehicle was rather spacious even with the wall separating the back seat from the front. He frowned at it softly as Neryk climbed in beside him and closed the door.

There was a lurching sensation in his stomach but there was no actual sense of movement. There wasn't enough light to see by outside to gauge how fast they were going if they were even moving in the first place.

"How long will it take for us to get to base?" Diggory asked, wary of asking anything too showing with not knowing who could be listening.

"Half an hour," Neryk informed him. "Which, honestly, isn't terrible. You could have ended up on the other side of the planet."

Diggory hummed but wasn't sure how to respond to that. As much as it was useful, he found that it didn't really answer any of his questions. He sighed, resting his head against the window.

"Hey." He opened his eyes and looked over at Advena – no, wait, it was Neryk now, right? - as they gently squeezed his shoulder. "You can lean on me if you want to rest. I doubt that will be overly comfortable for an extended amount of time."

He offered them a soft smile. "Probably not."

He shifted so that he was leaning against Neryk's side. The only thing about that, though, was the fact that Advena was shorter than him, meaning that he had to shift around a bit till he found a good enough position. In the end, it turned into him leaning sideways on the seat as Advena put their back into the corner of the seat and door so that his forehead pressed against their neck as it was nestled between them and the seatback.

He fell asleep rather quickly, not that it did him any good.

When Neryk roused him, he felt more exhausted than when he had settled down to nap. He grumbled to himself, not at all conscious of the words he used, but it was clearly something loud enough and coherent enough to make Neryk chuckle. They ran a hand through his hair, the gesture kind and endearing. "Just a few more hours and you'll be able to get some real sleep."

"I know," he sighed, rubbing at his face. "It's just been a long, what, day? Year?" He gave a breathy laugh. "I'm so out of touch with time, I don't even know if my birthday passed or not."

"It hasn't passed yet," Neryk assured him and he looked up to find their expression serious. "You still have a few months till your 24th."

For some reason, that didn't make him feel better.
The door opened and Neryk climbed out without hesitation. Diggory couldn't help but pause. Beyond the vehicle was a well illuminated place, one full of people. It made his wary.

He followed Neryk out and looked around.

He hadn't been wrong on his first take of the place, but the entire area was enclosed. There was a low ceiling above and the people milling were all slowly making their way towards one of the sides of the massive space.

That side happened to be the one he and Neryk were dropped off in front of. Neryk leaned in close, their breath ghosting over his ear as they explained carefully, "There's another few levels above and below us for parking. This is the main pick up and drop off location with guest parking and a few different lots."

"When you said base, I was thinking some secluded location with a few dozen people," he replied tightly, his voice barely audible beyond his lips pressed to their ear. "This is not what I expected."

Neryk nodded. "I know," they acknowledged, though this time they simply spoke softly as they turned to lead the way. "I'll explain it in detail more when we're closer."

He sighed, wondering now how many times he would hear that till he actually got answers as he followed behind Neryk into a building that made his brain feel funny.

The area they entered wasn't all that extravagant, though it was well maintained and looked rather new. There was tile throughout the wide hallway leading towards the main area of the building. Here, Diggory found his footfall faltering. Even in what he presumed to be the dead of night, there were a ton of people coming and going in the expansive space. The ceiling was so high above their heads that there were walkways crisscrossing their way towards it for three floors above them. The ceiling itself had massive sections of windows which he was certain would illuminate the place greatly when the sun was out. But with the darkness outside, the massive space was illuminated by not only the lights hanging from the walkways or mounted on the walls. Two massive chandeliers hung from the high ceiling made in such a way to light up every level without being blindingly bright.

Neryk simply took hold of his wrist gently and guided him through the mass of people.

He brought his attention back to Neryk, taking in where they were leading him and kept in mind where they had come from. Down a normal sized hallway and then left at a crossing. They walked this hallway for quite some time. They walked it so long, in fact, that they were soon isolated.

Just as Diggory was about to ask how farther, Neryk pulled something out of an innner pocket and passed it over a sign as they walked. There was a chime from the sign. A door ahead of them clicked. Diggory arched an eyebrow. Well, that would explain that, then.

Neryk opened the door to reveal a small space. There were two vending machines on the left wall and an elevator directly ahead of them with no button. Neryk passed the same thing over where the button should be and there was another chime, this time from the elevator. The door slid open and Neryk stepped in.

He followed at a sedated pace.

The door slid shut and the elevator started to drop.

"How far down?" he asked, certain this would be a normal question.

"Till it stops," Neryk replied. "I don't know which floor they're having this meeting at."

The walls around them, barring the one the door was on, seemed to suddenly vanish and he jumped, spinning around to find himself overlooking a massive underground duplicate of the main space upstairs. He pressed his hand against the glass as he took in the walkways and the main floor beyond his reflection as they continued their decent.

The elevator slowed and came to a stop on the main floor. He stepped away from the glass and followed Neryk out past the few personnel waiting for the elevator. Neryk again led the way but now it was clear that most everyone was heading to the same location. However, instead of following the crowd, Neryk broke off and took a side hallway as soon as they approached it. Diggory glanced back but there didn't seem to be anyone that noticed.

"Our meeting is with the Madam," Neryk explained. "Their meeting is not."

Diggory wasn't sure if that actually explained anything.

There were a few people entering the room still when he and Neryk arrived. Where Diggory hesitated to cut in front of those entering, Neryk had no such hesitations and simply grabbed his wrist before dragging him into the room. The space was a decent sized conference room and almost all the chairs were full. Neryk guided him all the way to the other end of the table where there were the most seats taken yet still a few empty.

Neryk placed their hands on the back of the chair to the head of the table's right, both of which were empty. Neryk pulled the chair out and looked at Diggory. He suppressed the chill that went down his back, suppressed the urge to look at all the faces to see their reaction as he walked over and sat down. Neryk pushed his chair in and then stood against the wall behind him. He noticed they were not the only one to do that. There were three others standing against the walls.

It left Diggory feeling rather exposed.

All but three chairs filled: the chair directly across from him, the chair to his right, and the chair at the head of the table to his left. If he had felt exposed before, he now felt isolated as well. Someone crossed to the chair at the head of the table, grabbed it, and took it away as the lights dimmed.
Diggory clenched at the cloak he was still wearing as the wall behind the head of the table flickered and came to life.

A nondescript woman appeared on the large screen, though she herself was not over imposing in size. Smaller screens all around her started flickering on revealing an individual or a room of people till the whole wall was filled with faces.

"Thank you for gathering so quickly on such short notice," the woman spoke. Her voice was calm, gentle even, while still holding a stern note. "I have asked all locations and their key members to gather for this telecommunications due to the dire situation that is at hand. I did not want to have to waste time visiting each one individually and awaiting responses from others."

"We are always happy to assist, Madam," one of the men spoke.

The woman gave a smile that didn't seem overly kind to Diggory. "I'm sure." she stated plainly before her smile fell away. "The information I have received is not good. The agents at the ICARUS branch have come across what the Professor may be working towards."

The room exploded with sound cutting her words off and not even half of it came from the speakers. It seemed like everyone in that room was trying to talk over one another, to be heard, and in the chaos he came to realize that he was sitting in among the ICARUS branch members and none of them had any idea what she was talking about.

The room suddenly rang silent and Diggory realized it was because his voice was echoing through the room.

"Enough of this," he was saying, somehow on his feet without remembering standing. The words kept going as his face displayed a disgust he wasn't sure he was actually feeling and his gaze flickered to those on the screen as well. "Shouting, arguing, and trying to ask questions now is nothing more than a waste of time. If you lot would just keep your traps shut and let the Madam actually speak, I'm fairly certain you would find that all of this was unnecessary."

The silence was deafening but he refused to sit quite yet. There was an air of challenge and the impression that if he sat now, he would lose whatever he had gained over the people present. Instead, he turned, facing the screen and meeting the Madam's gaze. "I feel an apology is in order however I do not believe that it should come from me unless you see otherwise."

The woman chuckled, the sound melodious and far more amused than anything prior. "I feel that they have been reprimanded enough without needing to apologize."Her expression turned a tad fond. "It is good to have you back, Diggory. You certainly were missed."

He offered a dry chuckle. "Only by you and so few, Madam."

The woman nodded and turned her focus back to the masses. Diggory sat back down feeling far more drained than he had any right to be. "For those of you that do not know him, Diggory is one of the original members of the ICARUS branch and has done many things for this organization. However, Diggory has been MIA for the last four months. He had been sent in to gather intel about the Professor's whereabouts and plans only to lose contact a week into his assignment. When we did not hear of him after the assignment was to be completed, we assumed the worst and have been proven half wrong. One of the Professor's elite had captured Diggory and others, subjecting them to countless horrors." The woman fell silent for a moment but no one else spoke. "However, it is because of this that we have now gained a better insight to what the Professor may be working to obtain." Again, it seemed her gaze settled on him for a second. "There is evidence that the Professor is looking into old lore surrounding an artifacted called the Crystal Heart." A low murmuring filled the room like static but it wasn't enough to drown out the next words she spoke. "For those of you unaware of what it is, I have a brief explination before I need each branch to set out and find out if the Professor is truly looking into finding or creating the Crystal Heart."

There was the sound of shuffling papers but no one spoke. It seemed as if everyone present was holding their breath and Diggory found his mind wandering to a half remembered memory.

An old book, pages flipping.

"Legend tells of an artifact called the Crystal Heart," an old illustration appears before his mind's eye, "that holds limitless power. Whether is it is simply a source of untapped energy or grants some sort of ability is not clear." Old pages were slowly flipping before his mind's eye, impressions of what is written on them filling his mind. "However, one source has stated that the Crystal Heart is not to be used lightly. As easy as it is to create with it, it is equally easy to destroy with it." A paragraph saying the same thing – though not necessarily word for word – was focused on. "It should stay out of hands that would abuse its power and, if at all possible," word for word started to appear in what seemed to be the last page of the given section on the old pages, "the Crystal Heart should be destroyed."

There was a burst of noise but Diggory ignored all of it. He didn't care as he half gestured for Advena, his mind full of the information from those pages and other pages he had supposedly flipped through. Advena brought their head down next to Diggory's and he reached up, pulling at them so he could whisper into their ear, "When was she informed about the Crystal Heart?"
"I had only told you and a few others when you found me."

Advena – no, Neryk – pulled back enough to place their lips against his ear, his head and the back of his chair preventing anyone reading their lips as Neryk's head and the back of the chair had done for him. "I told the Madam about our experience, about the crystal hearts you and I had possessed and how they had seemed important to the Other. She must have just gone with it."

He frowned but let them pull away. He wasn't so sure he believed that.

The chatter suddenly quieted down as focus returned to the woman.

"These are the parameters I leave you with," she spoke, her voice grave. "Be extremely careful looking for the Crystal Heart. Should you find it, do not touch it, do not attempt to move it. Contact me and I will make sure those that have been cleared arrive as quickly as possible to deal with the artifact. Should we find it, we will be attempting to destroy it." The glare she sent through the screen was threatening. "We will not be taking the risk of someone using it. Am I understood?"

There was a ringing of "Yes, Madam" from the room as well as those on the screen.

She gave a brisk nod. "Good. Now. Be quick. We do not have much time left."

Without another word, her face vanished from the screen and the other smaller screens started turning off. Those in the conference room started moving about, chatter becoming so loud that it turned itself into white noise. Diggory rubbed at his face only to remember what he was wearing. He stared down at his wrapped hand, feeling an ache there that felt more than just fatigue.

"A-" He caught himself and tried again. "Neryk." They appeared at his side, bending over to be more level with his gaze. He looked to them. "I would like to leave now." He waved his hand between them. "I'm sure these need to be changed after everything anyways."

Neryk nodded. "Of course. If you'll follow me."

He stood up but no sooner had he straightened was he approached. He didn't recognize their face. They gave a shallow bow. "You are expected in one of the small meeting rooms."

"By who?" Diggory drawled, too tired to be cordial.

"By Madam Jasmine."

He blinked at that, feeling Neryk going rigid at his side. He glanced their way but their expression was neutral. He looked back at their messenger with a sigh. "Alright. Please lead the way."

The messenger bowed again before turning and leading them to the side door near Diggory's chair. Beyond the door was a hallway with doors on either side. It was long and it was creepy but Diggory dutifully followed his new guide trusting Neryk to have his back.

Nothing spectacular happened. In fact, the entire walk was rather boring. It got so bad, he started counting doors just for something to do as they followed the hallway as it made a 90 degree turn this way and that.

He had reached 23 by the time they arrived at the necessary room. The messenger opened the door but did not enter. Instead, they bowed and Diggory passed through with Neryk behind him. The door closed behind Neryk, leaving their guide outside.

The room itself was rather barren. There was a table and a few chairs but that was it barring the few items resting on the table's surface.

Neryk walked around him to the table, inspecting the items as Diggory took in the room. There were no signs of cameras or tech of any kind but even barren walls can be deceiving. He walked over to Neryk as they picked one of the items up. He realized it was a shirt as it came unfolded in Neryk's hand.

"Turn around," they softly directed and he did as they said, turning so that his back was to them. He felt the knuckles of their fingers brush against his shoulders for a moment before the touch left. It returned again.

"Here." He looked over his shoulder to find Neryk holding a shirt towards him. "Put this on. Pants will have to be trial and error."

He nodded, taking the cloth. They took the cloak from his shoulders and took over undressing him when his hands wouldn't cooperate. With his shirt off, it was easy to see that the bandages were in desperate need of changing. Someone seemed to be aware of this because Neryk simply picked up a pair of scissors that had been among the first aid materials and started cutting the bandages away.

He hissed as cold metal brushed against still raw cuts and abrasions. Something beyond exhaustion pulled at him at the reminder that he was still very injured and had been moving quite a bit since he was found. Sickness was probably clawing at his system, too, but he couldn't remember what to look for when it came to any of the sicknesses he could be getting.

Time got away from him as he seemed to nap with his eyes open and sitting upright because when Neryk pulled him to his feet, all of his bandages had been replaced and all that was left was for him to finish pulling up the new pants they had obviously started dressing him in.

There should have been embarrassment there. Maybe he was too tired to care at this point.

He pulled the zipper up and fastened the button as Neryk pulled the cloak back around his shoulders. It was warm and he shuddered, now aware of how chilled he had gotten.

A knock landed on the door they had entered through as his hands fell free from the front of his pants and the cloak settled closed around him. The door opened as Neryk took a step away. They both turned to faced the door proper.
The door opened and only Madam Jasmine entered. Diggory frowned.

"Am I right to presume that this is a personal meeting, then?" he asked once the door clicked shut.

Madam Jasmine smiled gently. "Is it so wrong for me to want to see you?"

Her smile was contagious as one of his own pulled at the corners of his mouth. "I am not the right person to answer that, Madam."

Her smile fell as her expression turned concern and a little sad. He blinked, glancing at Neryk. Had he done something wrong?

"You don't remember me, do you?"

He looked back at her, surprised. That seemed to be all the answer she needed because she walked around the table and right up to him. He realized then that she was shorter than he was by nearly a head. With them nearly toe to toe, she had to crane her head back to meet his gaze. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen on a person.

Her hands were warm when she carefully pressed them to his cheeks. Her smile was drawn tight across her face. "I am glad that you are alive and in one piece, if nothing else. We can deal with your memory later." She took a step back and Diggory suddenly ached to have this woman's hands upon his face again. "Neryk, keep an eye on him for me, please."

Neryk bowed low. "Of course, Madam."

Diggory frowned, taking a step towards Madam Jasmine as the woman turned to head back to the door. "Wait," he called out, stalling her departure. "That was it? That was all this was about?"

Her eyes landed on him and he wasn't sure what to make of her expression. "In a way, yes, this was all I had intended to do," she confirmed. "The least I can do for you is make sure you are well attended to, including clothing and medical supplied." She gave him a soft smile that made her look tired. "That and I wanted to make sure you truly were alright with my own eyes." She turned her gaze to Neryk. "When his memory returns, contact me immediately."

Neryk dipped their head. "I will."

Madam Jasmine nodded. She looked towards him one last time before exiting the room.

The whole ordeal left him frustrated and he turned an unamused gaze onto Neryk. "Let me guess, answers have to wait a little longer."

Neryk offered him a smile but there wasn't much humor in it. "Unfortunately." Their expression turned serious. "You will get answers, Diggory. I promise. It just needs to wait a little longer."

He let out a sigh, rubbing at his face. His hand twinged and he pulled it back to stare at the bandages. He clenched his hand into a fist. "Fine." He looked over at them again. "But I'm holding you to it."

Neryk nodded but said nothing more.

They exited the room after Madam Jasmine but there was no sign of her in either direction. Diggory wasn't overly surprised. His fingers found the cloak's fabric again as he trailed after Neryk, trusting them to get him home safely. Speaking of...

"Hey, Neryk," he called out, words slow as he figured out what he wanted to ask with possible ears listening. "Are we finally leaving?"

Neryk looked back at him, a soft smile on their face. "Yes. We should have a car waiting for us outside to take us home."

He relaxed. "Good," he sighed. "I'm getting sick of being here."

Neryk chuckled but they had already turned around. "As am I."

Their walk back seemed to take forever. At least the elevator ride was short. Diggory looked around when they stepped off and wasn't surprised to find they had ridden the same elevator up they had down even as he had gotten turned around on the lower floor. He walked at Neryk's side towards their ride, confident he knew where they were going.

That is, till Neryk suddenly turned left. Blinking, he jogged a few steps to get at their side again even as he gestured the way they had been going. "Not getting picked up where we had been dropped off?"

"There are protocols we must follow to keep you safe," Neryk explained nonchalant.

Diggory gave them a flat expression. "Why?"

Neryk offered him an amused smile. "Because you're important."

Diggory's flat look only got flatter. Neryk laughed, the sound like chimes on the wind. He was certain he didn't hear that sound enough.

Their ride was awaiting them in a secluded location. Diggory thought that this was not only overkill but more likely to get him killed than protected. However, there were no attacks and they weren't confronted as they entered the vehicle and the vehicle started moving. Or, at least, he assumed it started moving when he had the same dropping feeling in his stomach. If nothing else, Neryk relaxed, settling into their seat fully. Diggory sighed, sinking into the cushion of his seat.

"How long of a ride this time?" He asked, rolling his head on the seat to look at his companion.

"Five minutes, if that," Neryk offered, reaching over and tugging the cloak closed around him. He wondered if it was because they were bored or nervous that they did so. "Once there, get some rest. I'll answer questions in the morning."

He frowned slightly but didn't counter their words. Instead, he settled back into the seat and stared at the ceiling, mind running even as his thoughts seemed to be dulled and those 'five minutes, if that' seemed to take an eternity.

But, as with most things dealing with time, the five minutes ended as he stepped out of the vehicle after Neryk in front of a home he did not recognize. Even after entering the building he still didn't recognize any of it.

"This way," Neryk softly directed. He followed them up the stairs and down a hall to a sparse bedroom.
It looked unlived in. There were no personal touched to the room but the closet was full of clothes he expected would fit him and there were trinkets and what not in some of the drawers in the furniture present but that was the extent of what he could find as evidence of his living in the room. With a sigh, he wandered into the closet. Supposedly Neryk's room was beside his but he had heard their footfall on the stairs. Either they hadn't planned on sleeping or they expected him to not notice.

Annoyance burned low and hot in his gut as he pulled at clothing at random.

He ended up with a large shirt and soft pants that seemed well enough like sleepwear without him recognizing most of what had been in there beyond 'pants' or 'shirt'. The bed at least was soft and smelled of something familiar even if he couldn't remember. He curled up under the covers and hoped his dreams would be peaceful at least.

Slowly color bled into the darkness, some swirling this way and that, others fading in only to fade out. Something collided with his gut, pushing the breath out of him if only briefly as he leaned over whatever the rounded object against his gut was.

"Look!" he exclaimed, his left hand going out to point at something. "Look! An elephant."

A chuckle that seemed all too familiar rang through the air. "That it is, my boy." Something ruffled his hair that caused happiness to flood through him. He pressed against the touch almost needily. "Do you want to wander the reptile house one more time before leaving?"

He felt his feet settle against something hard as a certain set of colors settled in front of him. "Can we?" he asked excitedly.

"Of course!"

He was running. He knew that with how his feet were hitting the ground and how all the colors seemed to blur in a specific direction. He could hear laughter as his feet left the ground. His stomach rolled for a brief moment till pressure rolled across the back of his shoulder and down his back, his feet hitting something solid as he shoved himself upright once more.

"Excellent!" a voice oh so familiar shouted from some distance. "Well done, Diggory."

A smile - no, a grin broke across his face as he felt determination settle in his system. He was shoving harder at the ground, pushing harder as he felt himself prepare for action.

A hard shove and a different kind of sinking in his stomach. His hands wrapped around a metal bar briefly as it seemed the world rushed by before the sensation was gone and it felt like he was flying.

A rough texture collided with his hands and he grunted, pushing against it. There was the sound of scrapping, the sensation of his feet not quite holding traction with whatever he was wearing on his feet. But the thing stilled and he needed not to push anymore. Stepping away from whatever it had been, he looked about even if he couldn't make out anything, not even the colors swirling about him.

There was coughing to his right, to the direction he had been looking. "Good job, Diggory," an oh so familiar voice urged him, something softly colliding with his shoulder a few times. "That seemed to have stalled the blasted thing. How are you handling? Anything overtaxed or in need of attention?"

He flexed his hands and shifted his weight but there didn't seem to be any such thing as he offered, "Not that I can tell."

"Good," the voice spoke again. "Come here. I want to check you over anyways."

Cold metal settled against his hands as he leaned back against something. He could feel whatever it was against his lower back in a solid, rigid line. A different voice, a new voice, spoke. "So that is all you have to offer me."

As much as it should have been a question, it wasn't. "Yes," he returned, the word sharper than he thought necessary. "As it should be. After all that I was subjected to, I would think it best that I didn't remember much."

The other sighed, sounding tired even if all he saw was some color faded in the darkness. "Ok." There was shuffling and the color got bigger and became several colors. "But should you defect, I am taking you out."

"Of course," he spoke as if this was a given and it shouldn't be any other way. "Just tell me where you want me and I'll go there."

"MOVE!" someone new shouted as a body collided with his, sending him sideways. His entire left side hit what felt like ground but it didn't stay that way. His arm wrapped around the body against him and he forced them to roll with him. Something was in his hand. It jerked along with a sound he didn't recognize. He was up on his feet, the body no longer against him. He moved this way and that, rolled here, kicked at something there, and punched another thing in the process of setting up a second kick and triggering the thing in his hand again.

Silence settled as he slowly lowered his hand and he turned. Darkness was everywhere, even underneath the colors he could see, but here was a scene he could see, even with the haze that seemed to obscure his sight. He approached the debris, moving a few pieces of it off of a table before heaving the table upright and over. It thudded against the floor and he offered his hand to Madam Jasmine. "Come on," he spoke, his voice calm. "Let's get you out of here."

Her beautiful eyes shone bright against her dirty face as she took his hand. He hauled her to her feet as she spoke, "You never did answer my question."

He gave her a soft smile, answering, "No, Ma'am. I'm on my own."
The room was dark when he opened his eyes. He shifted under the sheets and found that while it was dark, it wasn't a complete darkness. There was light seeping in at the bottom of the curtains covering what he was going to assume was a window as well as reaching in under the door and through the closet. That one confused him the most so he pushed himself upright and went to explore.

He found that there was a bathroom beyond the closet. The door was ajar and the frosted windows uncovered. The space was well laid out and crafted and he set about utilizing the space as bits of his dream swirled in his mind.

It certainly had been an odd one. He half remembered the conversations and what had happened but the last scene seemed to be burned into his brain. Madam Jasmine and him had been having a conversation of some sorts when something happen, something big. And, for whatever reason, that meeting had led to the Madam having an isolated meeting with him and behaving so oddly upon her arrival.

He couldn't fathom what had brought her behavior about. Despite the feeling that most of what he had 'dreamt' had actually been memories, he didn't actually remember anything. There was no context, no actual things he remembered beyond the fragments of fragmented conversations.

He stilled with his hands on either side of the sink looking up through his lashes to gaze at his reflection.

His head was bowed enough to cast his face in shadows from the light over the sink. He looked exhausted but it was him. He recognized his face, his features, everything, so whatever had happened, whatever would happen, he was still himself.

He pushed off the sink and finished what he had been doing.

He exited his room not much later after that, the door clicking behind him as he looked about the quiet hall. There wasn't much sense in exploring till after he had answers so he headed towards the front door, looking to find the kitchen.

There was an inkling of where the kitchen would be in the back of his head he had no reason to not follow. Down the stair and right around the last post of the stair's railing, he walked down the hallway till it ended with a door that led into the kitchen.

He wasn't overly surprised he had found it even without remembering the place. He was certain that most of it was engrained in him if he had originally lived there.

Neryk was there, though.

Diggory hadn't been overly sure what he was wandering about for till he found his companion and he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted to do.

"We safe to talk freely here?" he asked, his voice coming off sharper than he had intended. He amended, "I still have so many questions."

Neryk looked up, silverware still in the bowl of food they had been stirring absentmindedly as they stared at some file. He didn't move closer to get a peek at what it was and Neryk simply closed the folder without drawing any more attention to the stack of paper.

"Certainly you want to eat first," Neryk started and – whether that had been intended to be a distraction or not – Diggory cut them off.

"This is not up to debate, Neryk," he spat. "You promised me answers and I want them now. Are we safe to talk freely here?"

Something flashed in Neryk's eyes and he didn't know what it had been. Had it been anger? Annoyance? Or had it been something else entirely? It had passed too quickly for him to track, at least, and Neryk did nothing more than sigh and give in.

"Yes, we're safe to talk freely here," they confirmed, gaze turning to him once more. They gestured at one of the table chairs. "It would be best if you sat down. I doubt all of your questions will be answered in a timely manner."

He crossed to the chair and sat down, running his hand through his hair. A twinge seemed to shoot up his arm from the gesture and he made a face as he lowered his left hand to the table. He opened and closed it trying to get the feeling of having no strength to go away. "What did you mean by true world?" he asked, turning his gaze from his hand to their face. "What had the Other done to us for that to even be a statement? Why can't I remember any of this life?"

Neryk shook their head. "To be honest, I don’t know either."

Diggory gaped at them. "What?"

Neryk offered him a tight smile. "I don't remember this word. Not really, at least. But I had gained enough information having woken up before you did that I had pieced quite a bit of dreams you're no doubt to fake it till it returns."

"Will it?"

The question was beyond his lips without a thought, not that it mattered. Neryk answered it anyways.

"Some will," they assured him, "but I don't know how many will return for you." Their face twisted into frustration. "There is something that I can't quite remember that is specifically focused around you. Something important."

"Do you remember the Professor or is that just me?" he asked tentatively.

Neryk shook their head. "Just you for now."

He frowned. "You think you will remember him?"

Neryk shrugged. "I'm not about to bet I won't remember him. The Other had taken us both, remember?"

"Were we the only ones? Madam Jasmine had mentioned there had been others captured with me."

Neryk leaned back, crossing their arms. "If there were, I don't know who they were at this moment. I can find out if that is what you want."

Diggory shook his head, raising his hand. "We have other things that are more important that locating people we may not even know."
"Things like why the Other had grabbed us and how he had not only put us in a different world, apparently, but also implanted fake memories." He looked to Neryk, eyes wide and a bit frantic. "I don't have any memory of this place, of these people, yet I remember being five with my mother in the castle learning about technology and ruling a kingdom."

A distraught expression crossed Neryk's face and he almost took back his words in a panic. But their expression became calm before he could utter any words and they spoke before he could even try. "I do not like answering you with things that give you nothing in return. Even with that, all I remember is that life as well," they offered, their gaze tired. "At least, what I was permitted to remember. That world, that life, is all I know, and I don't know if that means that we are from that world brought here as impostors or if the Other truly did mess with our minds."

He buried his face in his hands, elbows pressed into the surface of the table. Their hands were gentle against his arms and he looked at them through his fingers. Sunlight was shining through a high window, catching a few ornaments in the kitchen just right to reflect a few rainbows across the walls. One splayed across Neryk's arms.

"Even with how little I remember between both worlds, I doubt we are in opposing thoughts when I say whatever the Other had done to us had something to do with the crystal hearts you and I possessed in that other world." Their hand trailed up his left arm, caressing the mark that dictated where his crystal heart had been. It sent pain up his arm but he ignored it. "You still have the marks from yours, the damage it had done to you."

He shook his head, denying her words. "It didn't do anything to me till it shattered."

The sunlight faded like a cloud had obscured it source. They gave him a flat look, pressing into the back of his hand with their fingers. "This? This is not from shattering." They grabbed at their shirt and pulled it open. There, where their crystal heart had been, was a scar in the same exact shape as their piece had been. "This is what a shatter mark looks like." They gently grabbed his arm as they released their shirt. "This is something different."

Diggory didn't know how to reply to that and simply let the silence fall between them.

Neryk's hands disappeared from him and he almost asked for their touch to return with how suddenly cold those spots had become. "Diggory." He brought his head up, meeting their gaze. "I do want you to know that I have no idea why there is a name difference between here and there." Their expression closed off a bit. "But I do know that calling me Advena would be a bad idea. I don't know the specifics but it would be best if you didn't ever call me it again, as much as that will hurt us both for now."

Diggory nodded. "Anything else I need to know about?"

Neryk leaned back, a soft frown on their lips. The ambient noise from outside muffled by the home itself filled the brief silence. "Madam Jasmine sees you as a son of sorts," they finally spoke, "not that I have any idea why. Your past is so shrouded in mystery, even I was unable to gather much about you while I was looking for you. For some reason we're both enigmas here and that puts me on edge more than it probably should." Their frown deepened. "You weren't near me when I awoke. In fact, I was utterly alone and wandered into a major city before I had people that knew me pick me up. I instinctively reacted to someone shouting 'Neryk' so that's the only reason why I even gave them a chance." They closed their eyes, their frown flattening out. "Not that that helps much."

They opened their eyes again, meeting him with a look that was relaxed and curious. "I was able to learn that you are a very talented magic user."

"Magic?" he asked, amused and disbelieving of their words.

Neryk smiled. "It's actually a thing in this world. A good number of their technology is based around this particular addition to this world." The smile fell slightly. "However, this puts a figurative target on both our backs being magic users. Not everyone can do it and it took me some time to relearn only a fraction of what I knew. You, supposedly, work with it instinctual, though I haven't seen you use it beyond our first meeting here."

Diggory hummed a confirmation. "As far as I know, that's the only time I used magic."

The sentence was strange to say and even stranger to hear himself speak. Magic, honestly.

"And for some reason, Madam sent you to gather information about the Professor despite your high value to her." Neryk frowned. "I don't think that the situation is overly good in this world if she was willing to risk your safety."

Again he hummed his agreement but Diggory simply looked at his hands resting on the table as his thoughts slowly sorted themselves out. Side by side it was easy to see the faint blue lines that spiderweb across the back of his hand and up his arm. There were other injuries from his encounter with the Other that were raw but nothing was bleeding anymore, which was nice. His mind didn't want to seem to function properly, though, and he got caught on only one idea.

"So we need to gain more information."

"Correct," Neryk spoke.

He looked up. "Alright. Since you are more familiar with what is expected here - and if you are alright with it - see what you can dig up about who we are."
"Try being as discrete as possible. Should nothing arise from the Professor during that time, we'll go from there."

Neryk nodded and stood, bowl in hand. He waited till they were at the sink before calling out, "Oh, and Advena?" They met his gaze as the glass clinked against the sink. He could see the warning in their gaze even as their expression was kind and curious. He offered them a soft smile. "Please be careful. You are the only thing here that I can remember and trust."

Neryk nodded. "Do you have any other questions that I can attempt to answer?"

He chuckled. "Plenty but none that are in dire need of being answered." His smile fell. "Will you be going out now? Or are you waiting for something?"

They shook their head. "Only thing I was waiting for was you." They met his gaze. "I'll find what I can as quickly as possible so please stay in. Without knowing how this world works, it would be safest for both of us if you stayed hidden away." They shifted their weight. "I don't think anyone will visit. Unless it is the Madam, I would suggest pretending to not be here."

He smiled. "Was planning on sleeping anyways. I'm still exhausted."

He wondered if Neryk relaxing was from his words or not. Regardless of what it had been, he watched them finish tending to their bowl before exiting the kitchen. He listened to them move about, tracked them till they got beyond hearing range with how big the home was.

The cloud moved again. He watched the light bouncing off the the water in the sink shift and move on the wall playing with the shadows and rainbows. There was a sense of having done this before, of having seen these shadows of light and dark play together in this same space like it had been a dream.

He wondered whose home this was. Was it his or was he just bumming off of someone at the moment?

"Diggory."

He pulled his gaze away, finding Neryk standing in the doorway of the kitchen ready to leave. Their gaze was curious but the look in their eye was serious. "Anything you need from me?"

He shook his head, vocalizing, "If I think of anything, I'll send you a message." He frowned, gaze going to theirs. "How exactly do I send you a message in this world?"

Neryk crossed to him, passing him a device. "I had already thought of you needing to contact me so I grabbed the one that had been originally yours while I grabbed mine." The device itself was no bigger than his palm and rectangular. It was deceptively thin for as he tried to break it, it bowed but did nothing more, no signs of stress as he looked it over. "Feel free to play around with it to get a hand of using it." They reached over and tapped the center of the thing twice. It lit up and Neryk gently pressed his thumb over the digital clock. The screen changed, showing buttons and bubbles and windows of all kind as Neryk explained. "You can press your thumb anywhere you want. I believe you have your middle finger registered as well." He looked up at them but they shrugged. "I don't know why I think this but I think you used to double tap with your middle finger on the back before holding said finger to the other side and it would unlock and view on this side." They pulled the piece of tech from his hand and rolled it over. The screen appeared on the back, though it was like the back had become see-through even as all the words were in the right direction.

"Huh," he voiced. "Nifty."

Neryk tapped on one of the buttons. It opened a full screen window and they pointed at an icon that was them with their name. "Just tap my face if you want to call me. Press here-" they pressed the spot and a new window opened, "if you want to just send a text message. Either will get to me but I may not answer the call and just send you a text message instead."

He nodded, looking up at them. "Find out what you can. I'll be here."

Neryk gave a brisk nod before turning and heading for the front door. He listened and waited till he heard the front door close before standing. He traced Neryk's footsteps till he came to the door. He looked out the windows but there was no sign of his companion. Satisfied, he turned and started up the stairs as he slipped the device into a pocket.

The questions of who he was – of who they were – urged his feet deeper into the home, urged him to explore the home to see if he could find anything there. Just sitting and ditzing around with tech while Neryk was out looking for information seemed like a waste of Neryk's hard work.

He quickly discovered that whatever secrets the home held, he wasn't going to find them easily.

While the place was well furnished, it felt more like a hotel or a staged home than something actually lived in. Each room held furniture but there was a massive lack of personal items and any trace of any other people having been there. He scoured each room in hopes of finding something but the only two rooms that seemed to have anything were his and Neryk's so it came as a surprise when he accidentally discovered a stairwell behind a bookcase. He hadn't even meant to pull on it and it had moved revealing a staircase leading towards what he supposed was the attic. A chirping came from his pocket, startling him. He fumbled with his device. As it settled in his palm, he found a message on the screen.

This is your only warning.

Leave your past alone.
It was forgotten for a reason.

He stared at the message, baffled and a little scared. How could someone know he was trying to dig up his past? Even beyond the few bits necessary to be able to function in the world he now lived in. Could it be that obvious? Had someone been listening?

His grip tightened on the device as he frowned. No, this had to have been perfect timing on the other's part, simply knowing when to press send without actually knowing what would happen to him when they did. Getting up, he pocketed the devise and brushed himself off before looking up the stairs. It was dark but not overly so. There were signs of daylight streaming through and so, with a steady hand on the railing, he ascended the stairs.

The attic was exactly as he had expected: dusty, dingy, and full of things, though there was plenty of floor space to make it feel far more open and welcoming than he had initially expected. He wandered about the space, crossing to the windows at either end to open their shades and let in some light. He even opened them both a crack and cool air washed over him, the space becoming a sort of wind tunnel. The dust was kicked up but it brought a freshness to the room that breathed familiarity in the back of his mind, like a memory he couldn't quite place.

"So this is where you've hidden away at?"

There's giggling behind a stack of boxes, the room still sparse as they continued to move in. The person looking for the one hiding slowly stalked towards the stack of boxes and the giggling intensified with each creak of the floor that got closer.

"Gotchya!" the person shouted and a child squealed, laughing outright at small feet thundered across the wood floor, the person laughing right along as they gave chase.

He wandered among the stacks of things, hands ghosting over the tops of dusty boxes, sometimes leaving traces of his touch, sometimes not. Some of the sheets draped over furniture he moved carefully, taking a peak at things hidden from sight. Though appearing old, the items were generally sturdy and still in great condition, if not a little worn in some places.

They were both panting heavily but there was still an air of joy as the older asked, "So, why are you hiding up in the attic all by yourself?"

"It's my secret place!" the child exclaimed, shifting about in the older's hold. "No one will ever think to pull on the bookcase to find stairs!"

The older chuckled. "True. But I know where it is. Does that mean it's still your secret place?"

"Of course!" The child sounded exasperated, as if this was a given. "That way, if something bad happens, you know to come find me in our secret place. And then we can hide here together till the bad thing goes away."

"And you'll always find me, right?"

Something dark flashed over him, like an impression of something bad happening and he steered clear of some spot where the boxes had been moved away from the wall and left where they had fallen. He didn't want to know what had happened there that made him so uneasy.

"No matter what, I'll always find you and make sure the bad thing can't get you. I promise."

He tore his gaze away, trying to sooth the emotions he wasn't understanding,

At the top of a precarious stack of boxes was a stack of papers. Or, at least, he thought they were papers. He reached up and carefully pulled, trying to ease them off the pile without creating a mess.

His hand slipped on the box he was using to keep himself steady and the pile of papers turned into an avalanche of photos. Some were the size of normal sheets of paper, thus his initial assumption of what they were, but the rest were all sorts of sizes. As the pictures settled about him, he started picking up the pictures, looking at them and taking in any captions.

There were only a few that had anything written on the back that wasn't a date and most of those were names he didn't recognize or could barely read. Honestly, who thought letting the person with chicken scratch handwriting label the pictures was a good idea?

He didn't recognize any of the faces he saw.

He stacked the pictures on top of a box that was at chest height and moved on.

He saw it when he started down the stairs.

It wasn't anything significant, probably some cloth that had fallen between the boxes and the wall, - thunder shook the building and he whimpered into his hands that he had pressed over his mouth - but it looked odd from where he stood and it took a while for him to get to it - familiar arms were wrapped around him as the shouting echoed up the stairs, muffled by the door - what with having to move a massive pile of very heavy boxes.

It was when he had them all moved - the sound of wood breaking made him flinch, the body wrapped around him curling tighter still - that he came face to face with a stuffed animal. There was a crevice in the wall - the shouting grew louder but he didn't dare move his hands from his mouth - that could probably fit him if he curled up a bit. He squatted, looking in - but the one holding him covered one ear for him and pressed the other against their chest - but found nothing of significance beyond the paint having been done poorly with splotches of it incomplete. He picked the stuffed animal up - rough hands pulled him from safety - and found it to be a rabbit - he reached back towards safety, his toy falling to the ground - of all things.
The poor thing looked abandoned - as the one that had been protecting him reached out, both of them screaming for the other as they were separated by force - all discolored in spots due to the dust. He rolled it about his hands till it was facing upright before looking back into the crevice. He wondered - bodies moved towards the other still in the hiding spot - if this had been a place where children hid or played. He glanced over his shoulder - they didn't block his view as something was pointed at the other's face - to where the boxes looked disheveled - his screams echoed with the bangs that followed - and could see that being the reason behind the state of the boxes as least.

The attic door closed with a loud thud that echoed in his soul.

He stood up with the toy in hand, gaze flickering around once more. Beyond digging through boxes, he had seen what he had wanted to see, not that it helped much beyond killing time. He crossed to the windows and closed them, curtains and all. The room was bathed in a low orange light and he used it to navigate easily back to and down the stairs.

The bookshelf still looking like the definition of perfection as it slid close with ease.

He situated the stuffed rabbit on the bookshelf so that it was leaning against the edge of the bookcase at the end of one shelf down from eye level. It looked like it fit there despite its discoloration.

He patted at it but it made no difference. The discoloration stayed despite his best efforts.

Slightly dejected but not wholly invested in the outcome, he turned for the exit-

"You were warned."

His back hit the bookcase, the shelves becoming disheveled and the stuffed rabbit hit the floor with a dull thud. At the other end of the room was a person he did not recognize. They arched an eyebrow at him. "How is it you are so oblivious as to not know your own face?"

"What?" he partially squawked, staring at the stranger in the home. Despite any big talk he had in the conference room, a confrontation without understanding magic or without a weapon he was familiar with was not a situation he wanted to find himself in. Hand-to-hand combat was not his forte.

The stranger chuckled. "Why is it I'm not surprised your panicking at your own magic acting up?"

The figure disappeared only to reappear a few feet in front of him like they were made of smoke.

They waved a hand, commenting, "Magic, actually, but that's beside the point. Are you actually going to talk with me or am I stuck responding to your mental freak out."

"I-wha-you're made of magic?"

It wasn't really anything of sustenance but it seemed to please the newcomer. "Wow, he actually can form words with a borrowed body. Imagine that." The figure's face grew serious. "Can't really listen, can you? Yes I'm made of magic, though truly I'm only a figment of your imagination." A thoughtful look crossed their face. "Or memories. It can go either way."

"So," he spoke hesitantly, "you're some aspect of me?"

The stranger arched their eyebrow. "I'm technically what remains of the original Diggory, so, sure, we'll go with that."

He frowned. "Original Diggory?"

The magical construct before him sighed. "It's a long story." They gestured towards the door. "Come on. It would be best to be somewhere a bit more, ah, secluded."

Diggory arched an eyebrow even as he followed the stranger out of the room. "Whole house not enough?"

He grinned when the magical construct gave him a flat look, shaking a finger at him. "I don't know how or why you called me but you did and I will not tolerate sass while I am here. Understood?"

He chuckled but nodded, willing to abide by the terms as long as his questions were answered.

The magical construct sighed, looking ahead as they led the way. "You'll have your answers. It will just take a while."

Of all the places to end up, he never expected for the construct to lead him into the kitchen. The construct gave him another flat look. "Do not pretend that you are not hungry after your adventure." Speaking of, his stomach decided that moment was perfect to announce that it was very empty and wanted food. "This will go better if your mouth is preoccupied anyways."

"Hey, I'm not that bad," he countered with a smile, going about to prepping food.

"Whether you are or not doesn't matter," the construct replied, leaning back against the counter with their arms crossed, a smirk on their face. "It's true."

"Fine, fine," he gave, waving a knife about before setting about finishing prepping his food. While he hadn't truly expected the construct to start gushing information, he had hoped they would just talk.

"You weren't holding down any sort of conversation either," the construct pointed out.

Not only were they right, he also realized he was being a bit of a hypocrite because of it and went about fixing it.

"So how much are you the Original Diggory and how much are you just a trick of my mind?" he asked.

"Yes," the construct replied and he stared at it, wondering if he had someone broken it or something. The construct chuckled, offering, "I am both and neither all at once. As much as I am the original Diggory, I am still a part of you."

He sat down at the table, plate clattering against the tabletop as the construct sat across from him. "So, does that mean you know what happened here? What my connection to this place is?"

The construct looked at him and, for a brief moment, he thought he was going to be denied an answer. Thankfully, that wasn't the case.

"I can answer both but you won't like either of the answers."
Diggory shook his head. "At this point, I doubt my feelings on any matter actually matter." A thought hit him and he gave the construct a neutral look. "I'm insane."

The construct laughed and he quickly added, "No, listen! I'm talking to a manifestation of magic as if it were an actual person so basically I'm talking not only to myself but a figment of my imagination!"

The more he spoke, the harder the construct laughed and for a moment, he felt offended. But then the construct calmed down - though it giggled a few times more, he presumed, at the pout on his face - and offered him a smile. "Diggory, you would be surprised how normal this is for someone of your magic level. As much as I am a part of who you are, I am essentially the original Diggory's ghost, enhanced by what you've disturbed in this house."

He frowned. "You keep saying 'original Diggory'. Am I a clone or something?"

The construct arched an eyebrow, amused. "No. You're a synthetic."

"A what?" left his mouth as his brain failed to compute that.

"A synthetic," the construct repeated a bit slower. His mouth went dry. "Artificial. You're not quite a robot but your not quite human either." Something cold churned his system as the construct continued, "That's why you had control of the simulation that the Other had put you all under rather than the Other himself and why you had such a reaction to the other crystal heart."

That hung between them for quite some time. In fact, he sat there in numb turmoil up until a mug of something steaming was placed on the table beneath his propped up face. He blinked at it, not understanding completely but knowing enough to reach down and wrap his hands around the mug. The warmth spread from his hands up his arms and the numbness subsided as he took a drink.

He looked at the content, surprised. "Hot chocolate? Wait." His gaze snapped to the construct as they sat down. "You're solid enough to make hot chocolate."

A smirk formed on the construct's face. "I am as here as you are, able to interact with you and others as you can. But that is only due to your magic level, not much of anything else. Most like me that are created usually are only ghosts."

"Huh." He looked down back at the mug and its content and took another drink. It was very good.

The silence now was companionable and he didn't feel quite as freaked out as he had been at discovering he wasn't human, or at least as human as he had thought he had been. The construct's gaze was out the window when he started the conversation back up, his voice giving away his mild confusion.

"Did you say 'other crystal heart'?"

The construct looked at him. "Yes. You already have one."

"What?" He frowned, shaking his head. "But the doctor in the...simulation had only found the one."

The construct arched an eyebrow and he wasn't sure if it was meant to be condescending or telling. "That's because the Other only knew of the crystal heart he had put on your person himself. You only knew of one crystal heart on your person. Or, had known." The construct frowned. "It is rather interesting that you didn't have negative affects till after you were aware of it in the simulation. Granted, it could have taken that long for there to be a physical reaction or something could have gone wrong at that point, there really isn't any way to know."

"But I still have a crystal heart," he verified, confused. The construct met his gaze. "Somewhere inside of me I still have a crystal heart."

The construct's gaze lowered and he followed it to his chest where his hand gripped his shirt against the center of his ribs.

"I would say you know exactly where it's at, even if you don't remember."

He pressed harder.

The silence that hung between them was almost deafening but the ambient noise muffled by the home took small bits of the tension away.

A thought occured to him.

"Is it like the one I had in my hand?" The construct hummed in question, gaze curious when their gazes met. He clarified, "My crystal heart. Does it look like the one that had been in my hand or like Advena's had been?"

The construct blinked and, for a moment, he wondered if they didn't know. But, then, "Your crystal heart is like every other crystal heart that the Professor ever made; a perfect sphere that appears to be shattered in the center. The only difference is the crystal heart glowing with its own light because of the soul it contains."

"Soul?" he choked, alarmed.

The construct nodded. "Your crystal heart has my soul. I made you to house it to keep it from the Professor."

He shook his head, shoving away from the table but not actually getting up. "But how is that possible?! How could you put your soul in a stone that was in someone-something else? You needed it to live!"

"Did I?"

Explosions shook the walls and floor, dust falling from the ceiling, but there was nothing he could do. He was trapped, mortally wounded, and running out of oxygen. He pressed a bloody hand against the glass, looking into the tank made by a cylinder of glass at the creation floating in the liquid. He had one last thing to do, one last thing to make sure that it all went right, that it all went as it was supposed to, and then he could sleep knowing the Professor would be unable to succeed. That his crystal heart would be unable to be used to find the Crystal Heart.

He moved away from the tank, the smeared bloody hand print seemed to shone with the light from the tank. He coughed, smirk bloody. "Let it snow, right, Professor?"
"Let it snow so that the world may be coated in white," keys clicked softer than the switches flipped, "so that all shall see what perfection is," a whirring noise filled the space and streams of bubbles filled the tank, "and know that it is my shadow that stretches over it the greatest."

The whirring intensified as a blinding light suddenly glared from the tank. Most of the space was drowned by the light except for the space directly behind the source of the light from the thing it was set into.

Instead, a stretched out shadow of a person loomed on the walls and ceiling instead,

"So that they know who is in control."

But even the light overtook the shadow as it grew brighter and he slid to the base of the console he was at, eyes closed against the sharp light that colored his eyelids white.

"May you never see that control...."

He opened his eyes and the thing in the tank sucked in the air streaming into the oxygen mask.

"Professor."

The light faded as the power systematically shut down, all sounds slowly coming to a stop.

The only things left reflecting light off of his unblinking eyes were the soft glow from a perfect sphere with a center that appeared to be shattered and glowing with its own light suspended in the tank and the nearby display:

System Hibernation
Wake-up protocol
T- 49:11:30:23:59:48

49:11:30:23:59:47

49:11:30:23:59:46

He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, stemming off a headache forming behind it. Images- no, a memory was filling his mind and, while he had recalled it in a second, had know what had happened in a single moment, his entire being reeled at suddenly remembering something that he was not supposed to remember. He pressed into the other eye when the headache grew worse.

"Don't fight it," the construct spoke. "Let it work naturally."

"I'm not trying to fight it," he ground out, sending the construct a one-eyed glare.

"But you cannot deny that you are."

Diggory resumed trying to ease the pressure of the headache by pressing against his eyes.

It did nothing.

"Here."

He leaned back enough to look up, frowning as he questioned, "What-"

The construct's hands were against his temples and he jerked in the touch, wanting to pull away. But then more memories flooded his mind and the pressure in his mind grew too much.

Till there was a pop and the pain was suddenly gone. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the odd sensation. He shuddered as the construct pulled away and he tentatively touched his temple, his ear, but there was no external sign of damage. He shuddered again, looking up at the construct. "What did you do?"

The construct shrugged. "I removed the block."

"You didn't damage anything?"

The flat look he got was clear enough but the construct informed him rather sharply. "I made you, remember? I know what I'm doing."

"So then you really are the ghost of the original Diggory," he spoke, watching as the construct's- as the ghost's expression closed off.

The construct moved away, making some wild gesture with their back to him. "I have yet to actually confirm that."

"But why hide the fact that you are still living in the crystal heart from me?" DIggory asked gently. "Wouldn't it be better for your vessel to be aware of the soul they house?"

He caught sight of the sneer even as it wasn't aimed at him. "You are your own person. There is no reason for you to even be taking this so well, let alone being ok with being nothing more than a vessel."

Diggory shrugged as he stood. "To be honest, this isn't the first time I've been told I'm not human anymore and the novelty wears off after the first time."

The dark chuckle from the ghost was a good sign and he came to stand behind them.

"And you gave me all of my memories back as well as all of yours," he offered.

"That hadn't been my intent," the ghost snapped at him.

He shrugged. "Does it really matter any longer? I have years of memories in my head, allowing me to see the bigger picture you had intended for me." He blinked before smirking, teasing gently, "Were you serious about the spaceship plan?"

"Hey!" the ghost snapped, turning enough to point a finger at him. "It was a good backup of many backups if it meant keeping you out of the Professor's hands."

"Then why create me at all?" The ghost recoiled. "Why not simply destroy the crystal heart?"

The ghost turned away, snapping even as the words lacked the intended heat, "You know why."

"I want to hear it," he returned, his voice careful, slow. "Directly from you. I may have your memories but that doesn't mean I understand what you were thinking."

Silence settled between them and while he expected not to get an answer, he waited. It turned out to be the right decision when the ghost let out a sigh.

"Because as much as I didn't want the Professor to not find the Crystal Heart, I wanted to make sure someone else could." The ghost turned and their eyes met. "I wanted to be the reason why it was found because I knew that if I wanted it found by someone other than the Professor, I had to give up doing it myself."

A flicker of images flashed in his mind's eye. The images were of texts dealing with finding the crystal heart. Many were useless, stating that it didn't exist or giving no hints, but others spoke cryptically of how only the similar could find that which is similar. He could see the amount of research the original Diggory had done on the Crystal Heart, as well as the Professor, and knew as they did that to find the Crystal Heart, they had to make a pure crystal heart.
At least, that had been the original idea.

Diggory frowned, information swirling around in his head. "Did you ever think you were wrong?"

The words left his lips before he could think them through and without context, it probably made less sense,

The ghost seemed to know what he was talking about because they replied before he could add to it.

"Many times," the ghost confessed. "So many times. Especially when we discovered what it would take to create a pure crystal heart artificially." He shuddered as the information was displayed in his mind without his bidding. He vehemently agreed with the ghost on that. "I never wanted to even work on finding the crystal heart. I wanted to leave it be, wanted to just pretend it was nothing more than a legend like everyone else."

A thick tome with an ornate cover, supposed truth about the Crystal Heart, something sparking.

He gasped. "My dream."

The ghost frowned. "Your dream?"

He focused back on the ghost. "Just after my confrontation with the Other, just before I was found by Bien and Armridge, I had a strange dream. I didn't see anything but I heard a lot. I heard a conversation. Specifically, I heard you confronting the Professor about the Crystal Heart."

Realization washed over the ghost's face. "There truly had been some repercussions from the other crystal heart, then."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You are nothing more than the vessel that is protecting the crystal heart," the ghost started, hands moving about with their words as if an unconscious tick. "Similar to caterpillar and its chrysalis, except there should be no changes, no manipulations in either the crystal heart or you. In all of this, you and the crystal heart should have remained completely separate."

His hand pressed against his sternum, fingers splayed wide. "And what, exactly, does that mean?"

The ghost shook their head. "I don't know." He met their gaze when it returned to him. "I had never intended for this to happened and had tried to put in fail safes to counter such things but it seems I did not account for enough. You were clearly accessing memories imperfectly since before I was summoned. It would also explained how you summoned me. Despite my talk, you should not have been able to summon the spirit out of the crystal heart without knowing who was within it and how to get them out of the maze that is a crystal heart."

Diggory shook his head, fingers clenching at fabric. "So, what, does that mean that anything could happen? I could truly because whatever I was being turned into? I could die? What does it mean?"

The ghost sighed, rubbing a hand over their face. "All of that is possible but highly unlikely." The ghost gained a serious look, their hand settling on their chin as they shifted their weight. "If nothing else, this will at least help you find the Crystal Heart."

He shook his head. "It's been 50 years. Would the Professor truly still be alive after all these years?"

"He had a child that was nearly my age when I had set that timer," the ghost informed him and the information filled his mind.

He sighed, finishing off the thought. "Even if it isn't, there is a Professor looking to finish what the original had started."

"Exactly. And if they have taken up the mantel of Professor, then their intent is not much different from his. In fact, I would expect it to be worse."

That surprised him. "Why?"

"Well, for one, the Professor's original intent with finding the Crystal Heart had been pure enough from what i had been told and he was certainly ambitious when I started working with him." The ghost's expression hardened. "But looking for the Crystal Heart, doing what we did can corrupt absolute. Because I wasn't heavily in it in the beginning and saw the effected, I was less affected. But anyone that comes in later - especially anyone easily swayed - would become corrupted faster, sooner, and more completely. It would create a person with the Professor's drive and an even worse mentality."

Diggory swallowed but his throat seemed to stick and his felt dry. "And if the Professor truly is still alive, the original one?"

The ghost met his gaze with their heavy one. "Then we are in grave danger."

Diggory rubbed at his face. There was an odd pulling sensation happening in his chest that he hadn't noticed till that moment and his limbs were starting to being increasingly heavier.

"You're being drained by this."

He looked up at the ghost. "Not sure if I can help that."

The ghost shrugged. "You could end the spell."

"And how exactly do I call you back if I have questions?"

"The same way you did this time."

He gave a laugh edged in hysteria. It would seem he was reaching his limit. "I don't even know what I did!"

The ghost was silent for a moment before offering, "If you need me to appear, you'll figure it out. After all, I'm here now. Nothing says that you should be unable to summon me a second time."

He took some comfort in that as he nodded. "Ok. One last question, then." The ghost gestured for him to continue and Diggory asked, "Why am I able to use magic despite the fact that you made me without even taking magic into consideration."

The ghost smiled and it held so much that Diggory wasn't sure what to make of it. "I had never thought about magic till you summoned me. Magic was always a thing I lived without. But, if I had to guess, it was the fifty year stasis and the crystal heart you house."

And, with that, the ghost disappeared, fading from existence.

Diggory sighed, burying his hands in his hair. He wanted to tell Adve-Neryk what had just happened but as the front door unlocked, he decided against it.
He stood up and moved to the door to the kitchen, watching as Neryk removed their shoes. They glanced up from their task and gave him a soft smile. "I found some information," they told him, using the wall to keep themself upright.

"Oh, good!" he chirped. "I didn't find much in the house after my nap. It's all pretty much empty."

Neryk's gaze was on him the moment they were free of their shoes. It sent a chill down his spine.

"Why are you lying to me?" Diggory flinched from that. Neryk's expression turned sour. "Diggory-"

"I don't know how much I can tell you, Neryk," he cut in sharply, stalling their words but not their anger. He met their gaze without hesitation. "I do not know what danger you could be put in if I told you anything."

Neryk rolled their eyes. "Come off it, Diggory. There's no one here to even know you did more than just sleep all day."

"Neryk, I'm serious."

"So am I!" Neryk pointed a finger at him, their voice seeming unusually quiet after the sudden bout of yelling. "I have done everything to make sure you were safe and protected and looked after. I have risked everything trying to get you information. And while I do not mind, it would be nice to be kept in the loop."

Something edged at the back of his mind and he forced himself into a half calm state. He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Look, Neryk. We're not going to get anywhere if we're both shouting at each other. Come in proper and lets sit down. I'll make tea or coffee and we'll talk about what we can. That work?"

Neryk closed their eyes and he could actually see them slowly getting themself to relax. "Yes, it does." They sighed, offering, "I apologize, Diggory. It has been a long, stressful day and the information I have found has not helped that."

He offered them a soft smile. "I'll see what I can do to help alleviate some of that stress, then. Tea? Or something else?"

"Tea is fine," they assured him as they approached. He led the way back into the kitchen and set about boiling some water. Neryk brought a chair over and collapsed in it with a sigh. "I hope your day has gone well, at least?"

"Most likely better than it sounds yours did," he offered in kind, digging through the cupboards for a mug to use. "I wandered the entire building. It's kind of creepy this empty."

"We apparently haven't been here overly long ourselves. The owner before us simply owned it, what with not needing it due to their preference to travel the world than settle in one spot."

Diggory hummed an acknowledgement. "I can understand the allure of such a lifestyle. Anything on our history specifically?"

"I found that you and I have no records beyond what were made for us."

The kettle started to whistle. He brought his head up, looking at her in surprise. "What?"

Neryk nodded. "Apparently we didn't exist till a few years ago. Madam had pulled a few strings to make it look like we existed legally here. I haven't figured out why, yet."

He knew why. Could remember it now that the soul in his crystal heart had broken whatever barrier had been between him and the memories it contained as well as all the ones he had lost thanks to the Other's involvement. He had gone to her as an undocumented person with no proof of existing beyond being in that room and proving himself to her by being in the right place at the right time.

He wondered if Neryk would ever find out about that week he had spent isolated with Madam Jasmine and how close they had become.

He now understood why she saw him as a son, which was both heartwarming and amusing.

"We can leave it for another time," he offered, passing them a steaming cup of tea, infuser soaking in the bottom. "Did you find out anything else?"

Neryk frowned down at the tea in their hand before offering, "There wasn't much I could find today beyond the fact that your file had been marked as a Professor target for some reason."

"Professor target?" he parroted, confused.

Neryk nodded. "A Professor target is someone who is being targeted by the Professor for any number of reason. Most of the files marked as such, I discovered, range in reasons from having simply been a witness to having actually been a part of the Professor's followers."

"Wait," Diggory interrupted, pushing off the counter in surprise. "You mean that Madam Jasmine has know Professor supporters in her employment?"

Neryk blinked at him. "There are a number of those in her employment, as you so put it, but that doesn't mean they actually do any harm. The Madam has been rather efficient making sure that they can do little harm."

Diggory ran a hand through his hair, more surprised than anything. He looked back up at Neryk. "I thought everything associated with the Professor was a bad thing."

Neryk shook their head. "If that were the case, we'd miss out on a lot of information. Half the tech we have is thanks to some of the Professor supporters you were so quick to judge."

He threw his hands up, quickly defending himself. "I have nothing against anyone that supports the Professor. Each to their own and all that. I just know that exposure to that sort of thing can cause people to turn and I don't want to see them sabotage everything the Madam has worked so hard on."

Neryk frowned at him over the rim of their mug. They slowly lowered it, asking, "And how do you know that? I thought you didn't remember anything prior to the incident with the Other."

Diggory winced before offering a weak grin. "I may have remembered a few, minor details."
"Specifically while you were gone."

Neryk sighed, running a hand over their face. "And you didn't let me know this sooner because why?"

The face of the ghost popped into his head and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. "I was kind of having an existential crisis up until your return so the thought of messaging you didn't come up till just before you unlocked the door."

"And you didn't want to tell me any of this because why?" Neryk probed non too kindly. He shrugged and they released a hard sigh. "Diggory, I can only protect you so much when you don't communicate with me." Their gaze was hard when they caught his. "I only want to help you. You know that, right?"

He nodded. "Of course. That's all you've ever done for me."

They smiled gently. "And I will keep doing so till I no longer breathe." Their expression turned serious. "But that doesn't explain how your memories came back."

He shook his head. "Wish I could answer that one." Though not a complete lie, he wasn't completely sure on how the ghost had truly freed the memories he had been suppressing. He focused on them. "What about you? Anything come back?"

This time their sigh sounded close to a growl. "No. And it's infuriating that I'm limited to what I've discovered while you're now at a better playing field with keeping yourself safe."

He reached out and gripped their shoulder. Neryk didn't look up at him. "Neryk," he softly urged and their gaze flickered up. "You will be able to protect me even if you didn't know anything. You are so quick and so far more aware of the world than I am. I would be lost without you here if from nothing more than having originally only remembered what the Other had created."

Neryk pressed their face into a hand, muttering, "It's still frustrating."

He squeezed their shoulder. "I know." He offered an embarrassed smile. "But at least I can entertain you in your frustration."

Neryk looked up at him, their confusion showing on their face. "How?"

"I need you to show me how to get into contact with the Madam."

That within and of itself wasn't as difficult as he had initially presumed. While he had his memories back, he hadn't thought he had how to deal with the technology back. That had been proven wrong as soon as Neryk started guiding him through the steps but he pretended for their sake, messing up here and there only to get an amused smack from them.

"Just call her already," Neryk snapped, a smile on their face, "and quit playing dumb for my sake. You clearly remember."

He pressed the required buttons on the screen, chuckling as the ringing filled the air. "I hadn't trusted that I did." He shrugged a shoulder. "That and it's nice having you help me with something from time to time. Reminds me of the life we had lived."

Neryk's smile eased. "I look forward to creating equally good reasons for keeping me around."

He shoved at them playfully as the ringing stopped.

"Hello?"

He looked to the phone, excitement rushing through him unexpectedly. "Miss me, Jamie?"

Silence answered him and his heart started to sink. Had he truly done it wrong or had he remembered in correctly?

But then there was a noise from the phone before Madam Jasmine was speaking again. "Where are you? Can I come see you?"

"Actually, I was hoping to come to you," he spoke, looking to Neryk. "Even if it's at some halfway point. I need out of the house and Neryk's in need of some good company."

"There's a good diner I know not far from where I'm at," she quickly said as Neryk shoved at him, gesturing something he didn't understand but got the gist of. He waved them off, not about to go anywhere without them now that he had his memory back. He still didn't trust that message he had received from someone he didn't know. "I can send you the address and you can head there now. I need to clear a few things up before I duck out."

"Sounds good," he responded, gesturing to Neryk for a coat. He watched them duck out as he continued, "And there's no need to rush. It'll take us a while to get over there."

"Are you sure? It seriously won't take me more than-"

"Ah, hang on. I'm caught on a corner," he spoke, listening to Neryk move around upstairs. "I'll have to see if I can't remove myself from underneath."

There was silence for a moment and he wondered if she even remembered the code to understand.

"I hate it when I do that," she responded and his breath caught in his throat. "You'll have to grab a hammer if it's an exposed nail. No need doing that more than once."

Relief flooded him. She understood. She remembered.

"I may be an hour or two."

"That's fine," he said, watching Neryk finish the last few steps on the stairs. "Do you mind if we order something and eat before you get there if we beat you? I may wander the shops nearby to kill time."

"Not at all. Enjoy the shops and settle to eat if you get hungry before I make it down there. I'll send you a message when I'm on my way."

He took the coat from Neryk. "Sounds good. See you in a few, Jamie."

"See you in a few."

The line went dead and he turned the screen off before pocketing the phone. He looked to Neryk as he pulled the coat on. "Feel up to some shopping?"

His pocket buzzed as they nodded. "When will we be meeting up with the Madam, then?"

"When she's able to escape work." He turned and started for the door. "Come on. Let's get going in case traffic's too much."

Understanding flickered in Neryk's gaze.
He just didn't know how much they understood as he followed them out of the house.

He waited patiently as they locked the door, gaze going out to the world around them. While he now remembered it, it was still odd to see all of it after what the Other had done and made him belief. To think he believed he had been a Prince, of all things. It was honestly a ridiculous thought now that he was back home.

"You alright?"

He looked over at Neryk, curious. Their expression was open but held little emotion. He smiled gently, answering their inquiry. "Just thinking of what the Other had put in my head, is all." He looked out over the world, noting the car waiting for them. "I can't believe he had me believe I was a royalty. I certainly don't feel like that now that we're back. Far from it, actually."

Neryk hummed, stepping forward. He fell into step beside them automatically. "I'm sure that the Other had figured it benefited him in some way."

"Like how?" he asked, laughing. "Did he expect me to become weaker somehow? More susceptible to his ways or something?"

Neryk opened the back door, looking to him with a blank expression. "Or something."

He frowned, confused. Did Neryk know something he didn't?

The ride to the diner and the surrounding shops was rather painless but once they were there, he was unable to keep his opinion to himself. "This is insanity!" he exclaimed, almost overwhelmed by the number of people there and all that was going on. "How do they all fit in this small area?"

"By forfeiting personal space," Neryk ground out, pressing their hands into some stranger's back so as not to get trampled as the stranger suddenly changed direction.

"Why so many people in one place?" he asked, not seeing any reason for the crowd.

Neryk grabbed at the back of his jacket, stopping his forward momentum just in time to avoid being crushed by someone flying through on some sort of personal vehicle small enough and permitted for use on walkways. It reminded him of a bicycle, just without the wheels and the frame a bit different.

"Do you see any shops not so crowded?" he asked Neryk.

"Any preference?"

"Knickknacks and oddities," he happily replied.

Neryk rolled their eyes. "Of course. This way."

Neryk took him by the hand and led him through the crowd. Diggory held on tight and let his gaze wander, Even with his memories back, this was amazing. The variety of people - from families and couples to individuals and street merchants - was incredible and while some part of him remembered seeing such varieties before, the part that had been the prince of that other world was still flabbergasted at all of it.

They entered a shop that wasn't dead but it certainly seemed like it compared to the crowd outside and Diggory quickly found the air to be stifling.

Neryk released his hand and he made to grab it but missed. They vanished from sight as a small group of people got between him and Neryk and he was left in a strange shop with his head spinning. He reached up and covered his nose and mouth. What was going on? What was in the air?

"I never thought I would ever meet the person affected by the insense," a voice muttered behind him and Diggory spun around as he brought his arm up to ward off the stranger but whatever was affecting him as such was affecting his ability to keep his balance in such a motion and he started to fall towards the floor in a way he wasn't going to be able to save himself from. He would have fallen completely but the stranger that had snuck up behind him caught him by the arm before he could get a good look at him and yanked him back upright, using his arm to spin him back around and keeping themself out of sight.

Their grip remained unnecessarily rough. "Easy now," the stranger whispered, their voice heavy. "No need going and damaging the merchandise."

"Most of this is worthless," he returned, though he wasn't sure why he was keeping his voice down. He should be calling out for Neryk or for anyone that would come save him but he didn't. He was certain that the person holding onto him was about to either kidnap him or stab him. Or both, though he wasn't sure in which order.

"That would mean you were worthless but that, I can assure you, is a total and complete lie." The stranger jerked on his arm and he hissed in pain. "Let's go." Whelp, he mentally added a check next to kidnapping. "We have someplace to be." Something pressed into his back and he added a check next to getting stabbed on his tiny mental list. Two for two and he wasn't sure he was happy about that. "Try anything funny and I'll make sure you can't walk."

He shuddered but complied, quite enjoying the ability to walk, thank you very much.

The stranger either worked their or lived there for he was led down a side hallway to some rickety old door and was forced to watch the stranger unlock the door with an ornate key awkwardly from behind him. The door sung inwards revealing a set of stairs that looked far older than the building itself. He frowned but didn't get to ask about them as he was shoved forward and directed to the top of the stairs. He very willingly placed his foot on the first step in an attempt to keep from being shoved down the stairs.

The only light currently lighting a small section of the stairs came from the door but that quickly vanished when the stranger shoved the door shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place taking away his only way back to Neryk without the stranger's key.
For a few seconds he continued down the stairs blind but then there was a crackling noise behind him that wasn't so much as jarring as it was surprising. A soft light filled the space as the sound of shaking liquid reached his ears. The light got brighter till he could almost see the 15th step ahead of him, barring his shadow.

The stranger shoved at his back again, barking, "Keep going."

The urge to give the stranger a flat look was so strong, he almost looked back completely to give the stranger a piece of his mind. He caught himself before he could, though, and focused on not tripping and falling all the way down the seemingly endless staircase.

His foot touched flat ground causing him to stumble. He blinked, confused. When had he reached the bottom of the stairs?

He whipped around forgetting about the stranger but his gaze went right over their head as he looked towards the top of the stairs but was unable to even see a sliver of light from the door he knew was there. The stranger shoved him back around none so kindly and he stumbled to the ground, hands scrapping against the abrasive surface.

"What do you think you're doing," the man barked rhetorically. "Keep moving. We're wasting time."

He shook his head, looking to the stranger. They were holding the light behind themself and obscuring it so that there was only the stranger's faint outline in the darkness. "I don't understand. What happened to the stairs? I thought we still had a long way to go."

He got the distinct impression the stranger sneered at him as they shifted their weight in front of him. "What are you talking about? That is the same amount of stairs there's always been. You must be more broken in the head than I had initially thought." The stranger's words took on a dangerous note. "Maybe you really are worthless." He caught the glint of a blade.

"No,! Wait, wait!" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and into the hallway they had ended up in, hands up towards the stranger he was backing away from. "I'm up, I'm moving. See? Heading the way you want."

The stranger huffed, gesturing. The blade of their knife caught the low light again. "Then turn around and start walking again."

He did as he was told and started walking, the real threat of being seriously injured if not killed suddenly around his neck like a noose and he found that it was getting difficult to breathe.

The space changed, not that it was visibly noticeable what with the stranger still obscuring the light but he felt it with how the air seemed to shift and the walls fall away. Or, at least, he had thought they had fallen away. There was a flicker out of the corner of his eye but when he went to look, it was gone. Another, like a tiny prick of light glowing where there shouldn't be light made by fatiguing cells, appeared elsewhere and he whipped his head around, bewildered as more and more appeared till his mind made sense of what he was actually seeing.

The tiny bit of light hidden behind the stranger was being refracted off the walls in an odd way and he found the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. "Mirror Mirror on the wall, what befalls us in this hall?"

"Be quiet," the stranger behind him snapped but he was already trying hard not to burst out laughing in hysteria. No matter how strong he thought he was or ever had been, he had his breaking points and it would seem he had found his. The stranger shoved at him again as his footfall slowed due to his hysterical laughter that was slipping free in tiny fits that were growing longer. "Keep moving," the stranger barked with the rough touch.

His eyes snapped wide as the laughter finally escaped and he spun around in such speed that even he was startled when he captured the stranger's arm under his leg and pulled his kidnapper off balance. The motion and subsequent falling ended with the stranger landing on their chest on the floor with his knee in their back. The man groaned as he quickly took what he found was a large glow stick from the stranger's hand and relieving them of their weapon as well.

His laughter quickly died but he didn't move from where he was kneeling. "Well," he offered, putting his full weight into the stranger's back. "It would seem that the table has turned."

The man beneath him chuckled and sudden foreboding rushed through his veins. "Not that it's going to help you much. You have no choice now but to continue."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

The stranger sucked in a wheezing breath before informing him, "You can't go back and you won't even if you can. You will continue walking down this hall till its end and there the End will begin."

His heart clenched in his chest and his head snapped up to look towards the end of the hallway that was shrouded in darkness. "The Professor."

The stranger huffed a chuckle. "Of course. Who do you think would go through all the trouble of creating an incense that affected only you? I thought the Professor was crazy but it worked. In all the years I had watched that shop, you are the only one to ever be affected by it's scent."

He looked down at the stranger, their face poorly lit so much that he doubted he would remember their face by the end of this. "If I get up, will you be following?"

The stranger tried to shrug. "Probably not. My work is done. You won't turn back and that is all the Professor wanted." The stranger's face twisted into trepidation. "Though, the Professor may have been preparing to surprise you or something. Probably."
He frowned, gaze going back to the end of the hall.

It was hard getting himself to stand up but the stranger only moved about to sit against the wall. They waved at him, commenting, "You'd best be going. The Professor's been waiting a long time to come face to face with you after all these years."

He nodded, offering the stranger the glow stick. "You'll need this to get back up the stairs."

The stranger fished into a pocket and removed something. A crackle and a second later, the second glow stick was glowing faintly and getting stronger as the stranger shook it. "I'm good."

Nodding once more, Diggory turned and started down the way he had been heading.

The walls really were refracting the light oddly and it wasn't making any sense even as he was able to see so far with such low light yet not able to pick out the details of the floor or the walls themselves. On and on he walked, the only sound echoing off the walls his footfall against the stone floor.

Something caused him to still and he slowed his breathing, making it shallow to silence it so that he could listen.

There, on the edge of his hearing, was a noise. He started walking again, footfall now urgent. The closer he got, the clearer the noise became and it turned from a simple noise into changing notes and from changing note into something that sounded almost like words. By the time he was starting to make out discernible words, he had long since recognized the lullaby for what it was but he wasn't sure how he knew it.

The hallway turned and he found himself abruptly facing what seemed like an endless stairs with a tiny wooden door barely visible from where he stood. Clenching the glow stick, he started climbing.

His forehead hit the door and he jerked back, his foot finding the step it had just left. He glanced back, seeing the distance and not understanding how he had made it to the top so quickly. Breath in his throat, he reached out and turned the handle. There was the sound of the inner mechanisms working but the singer kept singing the lullaby. The door swung open without a sound and found the space beyond dark.

He closed the door, realizing he was in someone's home.

It was old and far older than any home he had ever been in before and that was saying something. He recognized the architectural era almost immediately but it had been from studies than actually seeing such architecture. There had been repairs made - he could make out the newer materials crafted to mimic what was replaced - but the majority was well kept and original. It was bizarre, to say the least.

The lullaby very clear now. He wasn't certain how it had made it all the way down the stairs and down the hall when standing at the door, the voice wasn't overpowering nor overly loud at that.

He followed it towards the front door where there was an opening into a sitting room. There, with their back to him, was a woman rocking back and forth, head canted to look at whatever was cradled in her arms. Back and forth she gently bounce, the words sliding from her lips so painfully familiar that it brought tears to his eyes.

"Did he finally fall asleep?"

He jumped, startled, and skittered sideways, back hitting the edge of the opening as he looked at the man standing roughly where he had been.

The woman turned as he brought his attention back around. In her arms was a bundled shape, a little pink face peaking out just beyond the edges of the blanket completely wrapped around the child. The woman looked exhausted but her face was bright with a smile. "Yeah," she offered softly, reaching out towards the man. Said man was already crossing to her, capturing her hand to kiss the knuckles before holding it close. "I think the worst of it has finally passed."

"Thank the stars," the man sighed and Diggory watched as the man pressed a tender kiss to the woman's forehead.

He was confused. Why weren't they saying anything to him? Why was he being ignored?

"Do you know who that child is?"

"Gah!" This time his back hit the stairs and he glared at the ghost of the original Diggory just as solid as the last time and smirking at him. "Don't do that. Are you trying to kill me?"

The ghost gave a bark of a laugh. "If I had been trying to kill you, you'd be dead." The ghost's eyes turned to the couple as they moved to sit on the couch. "And then I would be free of the torment of dealing with you and existing beyond my time."

The ghost looked at him again as he approached slowly, gaze going from the ghost to the couple cuddled on the couch. The ghost repeated, "Do you know who that child is?"

"If you're asking, it's either you or the Professor," Diggory pointed out and the ghosts chuckled.

"That babe is indeed one of those two. Do you know which, though?"

"You?" Diggory guessed flatly, knowing the ghost would correct him if needed.

A knock sounded on the door, cutting off any answer. The male got up from the couch with a kiss to the woman's cheek before going to the front door to answer it. Seeing as the ghost hadn't answered him, Diggory followed the man to the front door, assuming that whatever was about to transpire was important.

The lock clicked open and the door swung open easily enough. Beyond the door was a man close to the same age as the man that had just opened the door. The man on the other side of the door beamed. "Good morning, Professor."

Diggory's wide eyes snapped to the ghost. "Wait. What? But isn't the child..."
The chatter at the door was white noise as the ghost looked at him. "The Professor we know is the man standing outside the door. He and our father were colleges and best friends, having known each other since they were boys themselves." The ghost looked back at the two men and Diggory followed suit to watch as both men entered the living room. The woman happily greeted the Professor, the other man wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "In another year, I lose my mother to illness. I never got the chance to get to know her and it changed my father." A solemn tone colored the ghost's next words. "I belief a part of him died when she had died. The Professor had done what he could to console the grieving man."

The area changed, became more dreary. The child now looking to be well into its second year of life was wailing in a corner not looking good. The man - the child's father - was on the couch, face buried in his hands.

The door unlocked and the Professor entered. Immediately he crossed to the child, picked him up, and went about tending to the little one, all while the father just sat on the couch, face obscure.

"This is criminal, John," the man called from the kitchen as the sound of water filled the silence. "You could get Diggory taken away."

"Don't care," the man muttered, voice muffled by his hands.

"John," the Professor berated but the man leapt to his feet, barking, "I don't care, Richard! I can't do this day in and day out, tending to that...that thing when it reminds me so much of her."

"John!" The Professor - Richard - came storming in, child still in the kitchen. Diggory suddenly hoped that the Professor had made sure the child would be ok left unattended. "That is your son you are talking about."

"He's no son of mine!" John shouted back.

The smack echoed in the space and Diggory was surprised that the Professor hadn't punched John instead. He certainly would have.

Richard pointed a finger at John. "I have lost my own wife and my two daughters along with my brother and his wife, leaving only me and my nephew. I have done everything for that boy because he is all I have left of my family. You should be doing the same for your son."

John shook his head but the man was shaking. "I can't do this on my own."

Richard clasped him on the shoulder. "Then don't. Come finally live with me and Andrew. There's certainly plenty of space for you two in that large house. I can even ask Beth and the others so that it's not just the two of us."

John shook his head. "But all of her things, the memories..."

"I'll have movers come in - really good movers that will be careful and meticulous - come pack everything up. There are many empty rooms at my house. I can give one to storage." The hand on John's shoulder tightened. "Please, John. You're killing not only yourself but your son."

A burst of giggles came from the kitchen and both men looked towards it. After a moment, John sighed and relented. "Alright. I'll go throw together a bag for both of us."

Richard looked back at John. "Take as much time as you need. Andrew is at school and you and I are both off today. I'll watch Diggory till you're ready to leave but I am walking you out of this house in time to be back at my house to have dinner with Andrew, bags or no bags."

John nodded and started for the stairs as Richard returned to the kitchen.

The house shifted, changing to something Diggory was far too intimate with to be comfortable. He whipped around, eyes wide as he asked, "Why are we here?"

"This is the Professor's home."

Diggory's gaze snapped to the ghost. "No."

The ghost looked over at him. "This is also my childhood home."

"But why am I living in it now?"

The ghost shrugged, turning to go up the stairs. "I don't know. But it would be best if you saw what comes next for yourself."

Diggory fell into step behind the ghost and up the stairs they walked to one of the rooms he had known as unoccupied. When they entered, the room was completely different. There were things everywhere and the room itself was clearly lived in. Sitting on the bed in the room were two boys, one about three or four, the other closer to eight or nine. The younger was sitting on the older's lap as the older boy read from a picture book.

"-for there was no other place to live, than to live at a place called home." The older closed the book, looking down at the younger. "Want another one?"

"Andrew?"

Every head in the room turned to look at the doorway. Richard was standing there, a soft smile on his face. "Do you mind coming here for a brief moment?"

"Sure, Uncle." The older boy freed himself of the younger, making sure that the younger had something to do before following the Professor out into the hall. Diggory shadowed the youth.

"Has he spoken to you yet?" Richard asked softly.

Andrew shook his head. "Not more than what you've heard."

Richard nodded, his expression concerned. "Why don't you go ahead and show him the attic tomorrow, then. I'll clean it up a bit so that you two can play up there. I'll set out some games and I'll make sure you two can take lunch up there as well."

"Are you sure?" Andrew asked. "I thought I wasn't taking him up there because he was too young?"

Richard smiled gently at the boy standing before him and placed his hand on top of Andrew's head. "I don't want him going up there on his own quite yet because, of that."
"I do think he is still too young to be up there, but with his father still not back, I think it will help if he has a secret place for when things get harder for him."

Andrew covered Richard's hand with both of his, nodding.

The mood of the hallway shifted, the light changing along with the furniture and items Diggory could see in the other room. The youngest child dashed passed them in a fit of giggles aiming for the entrance to the attic. Diggory followed without a thought, watching as the toddler pulled on the bookcase. It swung open and, still giggling, the little boy darted beyond. There was a pause as the boy yanked the bookcase closed and up the stairs he dashed. The space was a bit more empty compared to when Diggory had been in the attic and there was a clear play area laid out beneath the farthest window. The boy, however, darted behind a stack of boxes unable to quell his giggles completely.

"So this is where you've hidden away at?"

Diggory instinctively took a step back as John came up the stairs. The man looked strained but happy. There was renewed giggling John slowly stalked towards the stack of boxes and the giggling intensified with each creak of the floor that got closer.

"Gotchya!" John shouted as he dived around the boxes and little Diggory squealed, laughing outright as his tiny feet thundered across the wood floor, John laughing with him as the man gave chase.

John managed to grab little Diggory and the pair collapsed on a beanbag in the play area, both panting heavily. The joy was very clear as John asked, "So, why are you hiding up in the attic all by yourself?"

"It's my secret place!" little Diggory exclaimed, turning around in John's hold. "No one will ever think to pull on the bookcase to find stairs!"

John chuckled. "True. But I know where it is. Does that mean it's still your secret place?"

"Of course!" Not only did little Diggory sound exasperated as if this was a given, the little boy had even rolled his eyes as little kids do. "That way, if something bad happens, you know to come find me in our secret place. And then we can hide here together till the bad thing goes away."

There was a pause as little Diggory picked at one of his father's shirt button. "And you'll always find me, right?"

John gently reached out and coaxed little Diggory forward enough to press their foreheads together. "No matter what, I'll always find you and make sure the bad thing can't get you. I promise."

"This doesn't stay, does it?" Diggory asked, gaze on the father and son.

"No, it doesn't," the ghost confirmed as the scene grew dreary. Little Diggory was still little but clearly a little bit older and was huddled up against Andrew under the farthest window crying. Andrew was running his hand through the smaller's hair whispering as the rain drowned out the words. Even from there Diggory could see the massive bruise on the boy's cheek and throat. "My father became an alcoholic when I started school. I think my interest in my studies reminded him too much of my mother."

"Are these your memories, then?" he asked as a flash of lightning changed the scene.

"In a way."

The thunder shook the building and a muffled whimper sounded from behind a tower of boxes. Diggory felt his heart sank as he slipped into the space behind the boxes and found Andrew and little Diggory curled together in the alcove in the wall. It was probably not more than a year after the last memory but it was clear a lot had happened to the two boys. Another jarring rumble of thunder that Diggory felt in his chest and little Diggory whimpered again, this time into the hands that he had pressed over his mouth. Andrew's arms tightened around little Diggory's small frame as shouting started to echo up the stairs. Both boys flinched at the sound of wood breaking and Diggory did as well. The ghost was very stoic in all this, not even reacting visually to any of this.

The shouting grew louder as people stormed up the stairs only to pause to continue arguing. Diggory watched as Andrew gently pressed a hand over Diggory's ear, the other against the boy's chest. Diggory's heart went out to Andrew. Eventually, John - drunk and not alone - started yanking boxes out of the way. His cohorts helped make short work of the pile as Richard finally made it to the landing after having shoved off a few guys. But by then little Diggory was already being yanked out by his father and passed off to one of his buddies. Little Diggory's stuffed rabbit that had been cradled between the two kids hit the floor as both little Diggory and Andrew screamed for the other. John didn't let Andrew out of the space, several of his buddies helping as John pulled a gun. This time Richard's screams joined the chaos but the man was taken out with a blow to the head as the buddy with Diggory started down the stairs.

Four gunshots rang out, all of them pointed at the alcove.

Diggory sucked in a breath, taking a step back even as the world melded into a different room of the same home.

"Are you ok?" the ghost asked.

He shook his head in answer as he watched Richard entering the dining room, a bandaged little Diggory sitting at the table looking broken. Richard placed the bowl of food in front of the child, sitting in the chair next to him that was a few feet away. Little Diggory barely reacted.

"Diggory?" Richard asked, his voice gravely. "Can you eat something for me?"

No response.

Richard leaned back after a small while and sat in silence. After a moment, he pulled out an envelope.
"Diggory, I wanted to wait till you were better to talk to you about this but the courts want an answer as soon as you can give one." Richard placed a piece of paper down on the table, the two creases from how it had been folded making it curl. "While the courts care little on your opinion, I thought it best to at least give you the option to speak up."

Silence but Richard didn't seem to be put off by this one. Instead, he waited. When no response was given after some time, he flattened the paper out and said, "These are the options the courts are giving. Your father is fighting hard to get you back with him but the courts are offering you a way out. They have approved two options: either you can live with me and I become your guardian or you are put in the foster system till you can be adopted."

Silence again but Diggory noticed the tears welling up in the little boy's eyes. Richard seemed to notice because the man moved to hug the boy but stopped before the motion could become apparent. Instead, he turned the motion into him putting his hands on the table, fingers intertwined as he waited.

It was the right thing to do because a choked sob escaped little Diggory before the boy asked in a raspy, weak voice, "I don't want to leave Andrew."

That was a shot through the heart for Diggory and the Professor, for tears sprung to both their eyes as Richard was unable to keep from touching the boy now. He wrapped the boy up in a big hug, tears steaming down his face as he croaked, "I know, my boy. I know. And I would be more than happy to have you here but Andrew..." The rest of his words seem to catch in the Professor's throat. "But Andrew isn't here anymore, Diggory. He's with his parents now."

"No!" wailed the little boy. "He can't leave! He promised he would stay! He promised!"

There were no words to describe how painful that was for Diggory to not only witness but to hear. He could feel the phantom echoes of little Diggory's agony and he looked to the ghost.

The once stony ghost was hunched over, a hand pressed to their mouth. Beyond the hair blocking his view, tears fell fast and hard towards the floor. Diggory reached out, not sure what he was going to do but he knew he wasn't going to just leave the ghost alone in that sorrow. His touch brought the ghost's attention to him and from one instance to the next, the pair were holding onto each other in a desperate attempt to keep the emotions brought on by the scene from breaking either of them completely.

When they pulled apart, Diggory felt horrible but the ghost looked better, calmer. Rubbing at his own face, he looked around and found they were at some zoo. Little Diggory, now a good year or two older, was running up to the railing of the elephant exhibit, pointing towards the large creatures milling about. ""Look!" little Diggory exclaimed. "Look! An elephant."

Richard chuckled as he came to the boy's side. "That it is, my boy." He ruffled little Diggory's hair affectionately and little Diggory pressed into the touch. "Do you want to wander the reptile house one more time before leaving?"

Little Diggory hopped from the railing, excitement and slight apprehension coloring his expression. "Can we?"

"Of course!"

The world melted and the zoo changed into an indoor obstacle course of sorts. There were many people running about - most in their late teens, early twenties if not older - but Diggory's gaze was drawn to the smallest form sprinting down a long strip. Little Diggory wasn't so little anymore, now almost 13 or 14 years old. One of the groups started laughing at something as little Diggory leapt over a wide pit and rolling on the other side to maintain momentum as he kicked himself back upright.

"Excellent!" Richard shouted from a chalked off area. "Well done, Diggory."

A grin broke across little Diggory's face as the teen pounded towards the parallel bars. He leapt over the shorter one, his hands catching the higher one and flinging himself upwards towards a high platform.

The world shifted again and this time they were somewhere Diggory couldn't make out beyond being in the midst of a catastrophe. Little Diggory, now in his late teens, scrambled forward, hands collided with a section of what seemed to be wall started to fall towards him and Richard. Memory Diggory held his own, slowing it enough for Richard to shove something up against it, stopping it completely. Richard coughed from the dust as he walked over to memory Diggory, patting his shoulder. "Good job, Diggory. That seemed to have stalled the blasted thing. How are you handling? Anything overtaxed or in need of attention?"

Memory Diggory flexed his hands and shifted his weight but there didn't seem to be any such thing as he offered, "Not that I can tell."

"Good. Come here. I want to check you over anyways."

The world shifted again but Diggory paid it only so much attention as he commented, "You and the Professor became family, then."

The ghost nodded. "He became like a father to me after my dad's horrible treatment of me with his buddies the night he killed Andrew. Ever kind, ever present, and yet he started to change just as my father had."

Diggory looked over as the door opened and he was suddenly hit with a strong deja vu.

"I think all the loss finally caught up with him."

"Aw, Diggory. I was wondering when you would be showing up."

Memory Diggory was standing near the door, book in hand as Richard pushed a pair of welding goggles up. "Hard to get much work done when I'm lacking my assistant." Memory Diggory didn't react.
"Well, come on," Richard encouraged, turning back to his work. "I doubt you need an engraved invitation."

"What is the Crystal Heart?" Memory Diggory asked.

Richard gave a chortle. "We have been working on this project for five years and just now you are asking what it is we are making? Please, Diggory. I am sure you could answer that far more eloquently than I can."

Memory Diggory crossed the room in a few long strides, the young man approaching his late 20s looking conflicted. "No," he countered, almost slamming the old book against the metal worktable. Richard's gaze snapped to the book. "What is the Crystal Heart?"

"Where did you get that?" the Professor asked, voice grave and heavy.

"While I had been cleaning the lab last week like you had told me to do. It was open to this."

"You should have well and left it alone," the Professor spoke distractedly, turning back to his work.

"How could I have left it well enough alone when the goddamn title was what we were working on!" memory Diggory challenged at a higher volume.

"That is nothing but a fairy tale!" the Professor retaliated, slamming his tool on the workbench.

"IT'S A GODDAMN WEAPON!!" bellowed memory Diggory.

The ambiance of the room was deafening.

He spoke again, softer but still as sharp. "Professor, I am not stupid. I may be naive, but I am not slow. I have found probably most of what has been written about this to have a very good idea of what you are attempting and I can't let you."

The Professor laughed, the sound sharp, it was brief, and it was anything but humorous. "Let me? LET ME?! You expect me to believe that my lowly assistant can stop me from creating the ultimate tool for creation?!"

"It is a weapon of mass destruction!" memory Diggory countered, a plea on the edge of his words. Diggory felt the phantom pains of betrayal even as he didn't see it on the memory. "Professor, this will not only kill this planet but every planet in existence. Every star. Every planet. Every single molecule will be destroyed if you manage to create this."

The following silence was far longer than any previous.

Finally, memory Diggory spoke again. "Please, Professor. Don't go down this path. You do this, and everything we've been doing, everything we've created up to this point will be for not."

The Professor gave a low chuckle. "You think it will all be for not? That all this will be for not!?" The Professor got into memory Diggory's face, his voice dropping to a threatening rumble. "This was all for the final product, Diggory. I gave my life to this project, I gave you a life with this project. A homeless boy starving on the streets with no where to call home, beaten nearly to death. I took you in, I gave you a purpose." The hurt on memory Diggory's face was masked by the furious sneer as the Professor drew back. "And now you see it fit to bite the hand that feeds you. You are a fool, Diggory." The Professor turned back to his work. "Leave. Now. Before I call security."

"I'm sorry, Professor," memory Diggory offered, choked with emotions. He picked the book up and closed it. "But if either of us is the fool, it is you. You will only bring your own destruction with this plan of yours."

The Professor exploded. "GET OUT!!"

Memory Diggory barely reached and for the longest time the pair had a standoff. Memory Diggory eventually stepped away, crossing to the door. At its threshold, he paused and looked back, offering a final word. "I hope it works, Professor. If not for everyone sake's, then at least yours."

The door clicked shut and the room melted away, leaving behind some dingy basement, his kidnapper dozing at the bottom of the stairs that led back up to the shop above. There were boxes and crates everywhere along with an assortment of furniture and random things shoved on shelves.

One crate was glowing faintly and he crossed to it, already suspecting what was within. Sure enough, tucked into the crate was a crystal in a simple heart shape, smooth and perfectly rounded edges all the way around down to the single point at the bottom and the indent at the top. There were no imperfections anywhere inside the crystal itself where a soft light seemed to be coming from.

Diggory stared down at it. "Please tell me that's the last of our adventure down memory lane."

"Probably not," the ghost spoke. He didn't look their way.

"Why was it only a near-perfect artificial crystal heart could find the real one?"

"Resonance," the ghost offered, though that within itself was vague. The ghost must have noticed because they elaborated. "Those of the same vibration or frequency usually attract. If nothing else, an artificial crystal heart that matched the Crystal Heart's vibration would be able to find it. It also helps that there are memories contained in both that are of the same events."

He looked to the ghost, finding them watching him with an expression that appeared just as drained as he was feeling. "So why did the Professor want it?

"He wanted to bring his family back. I had figured it out and knew the consequences if he'd been able to try. I just didn't go about stopping him the right way and, in the end, never managed to help him as he had helped me."

Diggory looked back down at the Crystal Heart. "Can this really bring back the dead?"

"No." He looked at the ghost but the ghost gazing at the Crystal Heart. "Nothing can, not even a mythical object like this."

Diggory's gaze drifted back. "Why not?"

"Because it had been made that way."

Diggory's head snapped around, finding the Professor standing near the stairs. He didn't look like he was beyond 110 years old, though.
Instead, the man appeared to be in his early to mid twenties, the same age as the first memory. He leaned towards original Diggory and asked, "Another ghost?"

The ghost nodded, offering in turn, "Though I can only speculate on how."

The Professor- Richard offered a soft smile. "My soul was encased in the Crystal Heart, much as my Diggory's soul is encased in the crystal heart you hold. The only difference was that it happened without me actually having much say in the matter."

Diggory frowned as the ghost beside him took a step forward, voicing, "I don't understand. Surely you've been alive all these years." The ghost eyed Ricard's ghost warily. "Haven't you?"

Richard's expression turned a note sad. "No. I died the same time you did. In fact, it was the act of putting your soul into that crystal heart that bound mine to the Crystal Heart."

"You're kidding?" Diggory couldn't see the ghost's face to properly interpret that one line and Richard's solemn expression didn't help either.

"Do I have any reason to lie? Anything to gain?" Richard asked in turn, hands going out to either side. "I died in the aftermath of the explosion, though I don't remember specifically how my life was ended. I just know that it did and it hadn't been as peaceful as yours."

Diggory took a step forward. "But how did you get in the Crystal Heart?"

"The Crystal Heart is a collection of souls and magic, of memories and dreams. It is truly a heart crafted by those that give it life, and sometimes that life isn't given so willingly." Richard shifted his weight. "When I realized what was holding my soul from crossing on to wherever souls go after death, I felt no need to fight it. I wanted to find the Crystal Heart and now I was bound to it." His head tipped slightly to the side. "It didn't hurt that I could create a corporal form without needing to be summoned and I could see the ties that bound the Crystal Heart with the one housing my Diggory's soul."

Richard's gaze shifted to the other ghost. "You had been right, Diggory. I was a fool, a madman driven by the grief of losing his family and his best friend all in the same day. I had tried to pretend that I wasn't as affected as I had been by being the best I be could for you and I failed.

"I failed you, I failed your father, I failed Andrew and my relatives. I failed the world focusing on the Crystal Heart, and I failed future generations by creating a persona that grew long after I was gone no thanks to anything I did as a ghost.

"I failed...because I am flawed like every other human in existence and I had been denying myself that fact since the start of this whole mess."

There was a shift out of the ghost beside Diggory but he didn't look.

"There are no words that I can offer you, Diggory, to repair any of the damage done by me or your father, None beyond the reassurance that I was stopped before I could do something stupid, before I could condemn a world to oblivion." Richard's gaze settled on Diggory but he knew the ghost's gaze was looking through him to the Crystal Heart beyond. "Even being a part of it, I do not know the purpose of the Crystal Heart." The ghost's gaze focused on his face. "I do not know who the current person carrying on the Professor persona is, nor do I know what their intentions are. I have not been in a corporal form in many years."

Diggory looked to the Crystal Heart. "Should we just destroy it, then?"

Ghost Diggory shook his head at that, arguing, "We can't destroy the Crystal Heart. There is too much that would be lost if we did so."

Richard hummed an acknowledgement, not surprised by the other ghost's counter. "As much as I would be inclined to agree, it is a far greater risk of someone trying to use it for something it wasn't made to do compared to losing the knowledge contained within." Richard's gaze fell onto Diggory once more. "Besides. I believe it is no longer up to us to decide what happens from here on out."

Ghost Diggory sighed as Diggory watched Richard, frowning slightly.

"Ok," Ghost Diggory accepted. "I look forward to seeing you again, Richard. In whatever capacity that is."

Richard gave the other a happy, fond smile. "As do I. Take care, Diggory."

The ghost disappeared but Diggory's chest felt like it was burning. He pressed his hand against his sternum where his crystal heart was at. He looked back up at Richard. The ghost was watching him, expression serious. Richard met his gaze again. "You do know that following through with your intent will not be the end of this, right?"

Diggory turned to the Crystal Heart as it seemed to shine brighter. "Even if this isn't the end, it will be for the majority." He met Richard's gaze again as he pressed his palm against the Crystal Heart. "And that's all that matters right now."

The man at the bottom of the stairs jerked awake with a grunt. Groaning, he shoved himself to his feet and, figuring it was long past time that he got back to work. He moved to start up the stairs when an open crate caught his eye. Frowning, he crossed to it only to find the thing empty. Scoffing, he picked the lid up and moved it to the corner with the other empty crates. Honestly, how many times did he have to tell the kids to put the empty crates together?

He climbed up the stairs and entered the hallway only to stop. Standing near the shop was a woman and an androgynous person.

"Madam, I truly do not know who you are talking about."

[ArtisticVicu]

May 2018
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

He sucked in air greedily as soon as the biting air slapped him in the face. He choked, coughing on the salt water he dragged with him beyond the choppy surface. His chin dipped back into the water as he felt himself lose his level but he didn't submerge fully again as he hacked out a lung. Or, well, the minute amount of salt water he had inadvertently inhaled.

He squinted at his surroundings, eyes burning from whatever else was in the water he didn't want to know about. It was dark - far darker than he had hoped it would be - but the full moon was becoming clearer with every blink and he was starting to be able to see more completely.

A gust of sea spray pelted his face and he flinched, curling away and clamping his eyes shut in an attempt to protect his clearing sight. It worked, thankfully, but it was a reminder he didn't need.

The waves were reaching heights he was not particularly favorable for, especially when it meant he was getting farther from shore.

There was a very familiar chiming beep in his ear and he nearly sobbed with relief. He shook what water he could from his hand before pressing at the device on his ear.

"Whoever you are, I could kiss you right now."

"Tony?" came the startled, static edged reply. His heart dropped. Oh. He knew that voice. Knew it rather intimately, not that the other would know that, and now he was desperately wishing he hadn't opened with that line. Thankfully, it didn't seem to have fully registered in the caller's brain what he had said and he was at a point in all this that he was tempted to actually kiss said caller when they were face to face next, secret crushing be damned. "Thank God. Tony, we're triangulating your signal now and will be there as soon as possible."

"You in the quinjet?" he questioned idly. A massive wave sent him under and he missed the reply. He came back up gasping and coughing again.

"Tony!"

"I'm ok," he wheezed, "but you may want to hurry up whatever you got planned, Cap. Not sure how much longer I can hold out against the incoming storm."

Someone cursed on the other end. It was too muffled from the mic for him to pick it out but he hoped it was Cap. He pleased him every time he heard the Brooklyn accent sneak in when the soldier cussed. It reminded him that the other was just as human as he was.

He went under again, this time by his own doing. His head was above water shortly thereafter, thoroughly reminded that he needed to focus.

"Tony."

He sneered. Not that he could help it. He hated hearing his name spoken in such a way. "Can it, Rogers. I don't need your pity nor your 'woe-is-me' attitude, so stuff it where the sun don't shine and get me out of this frigged ocean so that I can find the nearest hot shower and down a bottle of whiskey while I'm at it. Maybe even eat something hot, I don't know."

"Tony."

His name cut through his thoughts, the word heavy with so much more than the strain the last one did. It made his chest feel tight to hear the exasperation, the worry, the fear with is own name.

"I don't hear anyone else. You're not coming to get me on your own, are you? Because that would be rather stupid of you to not come without backup, Cap. I thought we'd been over this."

Spray off the nearby wave crest pelted his face as his chin sank beneath the water. He was getting tired.

"The others are in the main part of the quinjet. I'm alone in the cockpit."

"Why?" A bemused laugh coloring the undertone of the word.

"Do you remember that time at the circus?" He felt the breath leave his lungs. "The one where you were vehemently adamant it was a business thing and you were only dragging me along because no one else was available?"

"Yeah, what about it?" he countered a bit sharper than he had intended. He was tempted to just sink beneath the water to not hear the other's response but morbid curiosity made him keep his head elevated.

"There had been that photo booth next to some of the booths outside the main tent. I had made some off comment about it, something about not getting the point or not having enjoyed it or something equally dismissing."

He remembered; Steve had caught sight of the old photo booth and had grabbed at Tony.

It hadn't been the first time that afternoon but it still made him jump when Steve's large hand wrapped around his wrist, firm but ever so careful. "Tony, look. They've got a photo booth."

Tony rolled his eyes and patted Steve's hand. "I can see that. Do you want to try out the fun fantastical futuristic technology, oh 'Man Out of Time'?"

Tony's lips quirked towards a smirk as Steve shot him a flat look despite the enjoyment dancing in those blue eyes. "Don't patronize me, Stark. You forget that I had photo booths back in my day."

That didn't change the fact that he was leading Tony directly to the thing. He grinned, the expression feeling just a tad too tight. "Ah, right. The age before the selfie stick."

"I still don't understand that," Steve commented offhandedly as he pushed back the curtain that was in rather good condition, all things considered. Tony doubted Steve even noticed as excitement exploded across the other man's face. Those blue eyes turned on Tony so full of emotions that he found himself drowning in them. "Do you want to take a few photos before we move on?"

The 'yes' was nearly passed his lips before Steve was even done. But then reality seeped into the fantasy and Tony found other words tumbling off his tongue instead. "You do remember we're here for business matters, right?"

This was not a date and photo booths were meant for dating couples or large group of friends. Or a pair of teens, not a pair of fully grown adult men.

"Come on, just one set."

Steve could have been asking him to go fetch him the nearest star and Tony still would have agreed as readily as he did now, his sanity be damned. "Alright." He raised a finger. "Just one set."

They did two. Would have done three if Tony hadn't ruined the mood by nearly kissing Steve.

Sea spray smacked him in the face again.

"We took two sets of photos despite you saying we were only doing one." Static filled what Steve's voice left behind as the other paused. Tony wondered if he was reliving the event as he had. "I keep the photos on me."

"Why?" he asked, the word no more than a sigh,

His chest ached.

"Because they keep me going, remind me that there's gonna be someone waiting for me when I get home, someone I can lean on when I need help."

Tony gave a sad little chuckle. "Cap, come on. What-"

"Because they remind me that I'm being an idiot," Steve continued, stalling Tony's words. "They remind me that I'm not back in the 40s where this kind of thing wasn't ok, was a threat to living a long, happy, safe life should anyone find out."

He felt the first raindrop smack into the top of his had as he tried to pull apart what Steve was saying, where he was going with this.

"So, Tony?"

"Yeah?" he reflexively responded.

"Don't go dying on me. I want to tell you the last reason why I keep them on me when we're face to face, ok? So hang in there till we get there."

His eyes stung as lightning streaked across the sky. He laughed as the thunder rumbled low in the air around him. "I'll try, Cap." Clouds started obscuring the moon. "But I can't hold out forever."

"I know," Steve breathed, the words choked and Tony felt his chest constrict. "Just a little bit longer, Tony. We're almost there." A pause full of static as his head was forced under by a large wave. He came up hacking and coughing again but it was in time to hear the last of Steve's words.

"I'm almost there. Just hang on."

Hours had passed since the sun had vanished beyond the horizon. The night was dark but the swaying lanterns lit the way just as easily as the sun had.

The caravan was mostly foot traffic with the four vehicles packed with everyone's measly belongings and what food supplies were left. The man at the head of the caravan came to a stop at the crest of a soft hill, the sword on his waist glinting in the low light. He looked at his companion. "Keep going. I'm going to check on the others."

The youth nodded and kept going. He gained curious looks from those that walked passed but most were placated with a soft smile and some sort of acknowledgement. A few stopped for words.

"Everything alright, Salazar?" an older gentleman asked, coming to a stop at his side out of the way, wife hovering close with their two grandchildren clinging to her skirts.

He reached out and gave the man's shoulder a squeeze. "Of course. I'm just checking on the others."

The older gentleman nodded and beckoned his wife and grandchildren on. The youngest of the pair waved goodbye and he returned the little one's wave with a fond smile. Children were always so carefree even in hard times.

He caught sight of her robes before he actually saw her face. The diadem in her dark curls glimmered in the lantern light.

"Everything alright here?" he asked, cutting off whatever her comment was going to be.

She dipped her head in a nod. "Everyone is in high spirits, thankfully. However, we won't last much longer. The children are already growing exhausted."

He nodded. "I've noticed. The next area shouldn't be that much farther."

She nodded in turn before returning to the flow of the caravan.

He stepped into the stream as the cart of food started to pass. He fell into pace with the front seat. "How's everything here, Helga?"

The normally bright woman looked far more tired than others he had seen. His heart went out to her. "Not good, Sal. We'll need to find a way to replenish stock somehow. Magic can only get us so far."

The same, then. They never did had quite enough. "I'll see what I can get gathered. We may need to tightened our belts for a while."

She gave him a solemn nod. "Best tell Rowena that, then, and have her spread it among the adults. I'm not rationing the children portions."

"I wouldn't ask you to," he assured her. "Hopefully it will only be for a night or two, though."

"For everyone's sake, I hope you're right."

He let the cart get ahead of him before returning to the edge of the caravan.

The flow of people petered out till only a few stragglers were passing. A good number were children running about at the back of the caravan but a few were the less able. He was pleased to see that no one was alone and that it was only a few. Finally, the last to pass him were those of the makeshift guard and the man he had been waiting for.

The other smiled warmly at him and he found some of the day's tension leaving. "I hope it's not bad news that has you gracing my company," the man teased as they fell into step with each other.

"Thankfully, no," he assured in return. "We should be nearing a place to stop so I thought I would check in with you and the others."

"And?"

"People are in good spirits, thank Magic, but they're starting to tire as expected. Additionally, our food supply has not gotten better during the last few hours so there may be a need to ration."

The other hummed but didn't comment. He didn't expect him to.

The light from the lantern the other carried bounced off the swords they both wore.

The treeline broke to reveal a massive lake, an a massive field not far off that the caravan was settling in.

"Nice place."

He looked back, finding the other had stopped and his gaze beyond the lake itself. He returned to the other's side, looking out in the same direction.

"Well protected, for now," he responded. "I don't think it would be wise to stay for too terribly long, though."

"Wise or not, we can't keep traveling, Salazar." He looked to his companion but the other's gaze had yet to relent whatever he was discerning. "Besides, I doubt we'll find anything better from here." He finally gained that rich, brown gaze. "The cliffs on the other side are well protected and if we build tall enough, we could see anyone coming in every direction. All four of us could ward the grounds to secure it."

He turned his gaze to the mentioned cliffs. "It would take some work. Those aren't necessarily the levelest of places to build and it would have to be large enough to house everyone while also having enough space for people to simply be."

"Castle, then?"

He gave the grinning other a flat look. "Are you looking for something to be done in a few days or a few years, Godric?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to stopping permanently."

He looked towards the caravan. Rowena and Helga were approaching, Rowena with a soft smile while Helga matched Godric's grin.

"We could set up farms and hunting grounds," Helga added onto Rowena's words. "Would help our food situation. Especially if the lake has fish."

He gained a thoughtful look. "I would be surprised if it didn't but we can check in the morning. Right now we have a camp ground to secure and people to tend to."

The others nodded, starting for the caravan. Fires had been started, dotting the tattered tents that were starting to pepper the grasses. He slowed, falling behind. He looked back towards the lake, uneasy about stopping but sharing in their excitement. Maybe stopping and fortifying themselves was the next logical step.

His gaze turned skyward. Overhead the stars reflected the glimmers of life he could practically feel from the settled caravan and his companions walking towards the camp.

And the moon shone bright overhead, encouraging the spark of hope burning in all of them.
He sagged against the stone wall, the heat of the summer sun burning him through the armor he wore. Lethargy pulled at him as he popped open his canteen and took a long swig. The cool water was refreshing and if it hadn't been such a limited resource, he would have poured the rest over the back of his neck.

"Becket's got the right idea. Down some water while we've got this prelude. The heat'll take us out faster than their weapons."

There was the sound of shifting bags, weapons and armor all around him as he lowered is canteen. The man leading the team settled beside him, taking out his own canteen as Becket capped his own.

"What are we going up against, Captain?" he asked softly, aware that a few of the other soldiers were listening in. "Truly? I read the report and all but that can't be it, can it?"

The man slowly lowered his canteen, eyes slowly roving over all listening. Those too far to hear were watching unabashed. "You all read the reports on what we're up against, right?"

There was a chorus of varying affirmations.

"So what do you all think? It accurate or are we up against something more?"

There was silence from the gathered troops and for a moment, Becket thought that he was being toyed with till one of the seasoned soldiers spoke up, his voice hard. "Bar none?"

The Captain nodded. "Sure."

"They lied."

That made every rookie flinch in some way. Becket's was through his entire body stiffening. The Captain looked his way. "You had some inclination."

Becket shook his head. "Speculations, overheard whispered words here and there, nothing concrete for me to build an argument with."

"We've been sworn to keep our tongues held among those that have yet to face it," another seasoned spoke, her voice cutting through sounding just as hard as the other seasoned. "Since we're bound to come face to face in a matter of hours, it doesn't hurt to be loose lipped now. You'll all be sworn silent if you survive."

"I thought this was a low risk mission," one of the greener rookies spoke up, tone speaking of an annoyed confidence that was visibly faked.

"It is," the Captain confirmed. "But that doesn't mean shit on the battlefield and you should know that." The soldier looked properly cowed. "The only reason why it's a low risk mission is because we have the advantage during the dog days."

"Dog days?" someone asked but Becket didn't see who and didn't recognize the voice. The downside of a newly formed team.

"Hottest days of summer," Becket spoke, eyes not moving from the Captain. "Originally named for the star Sirius - also known as the Dog Star - as it rose with the Sun during the allotted dog days."

"Right. While we may not necessarily like the heat that comes this time of year in this region-"

"That's an understatement!" someone shouted from the back. There was a bout of laughter. Even the Captain was smiling.

"There's not any real affect on us," the Captain continued. "For them, though? While the heat has no affect on them, there's something about the dog days that do and we have yet to figure out what."

"How many reconnaissance teams have been sent out to find out?" one of the more seasoned soldiers asked.

The Captain shrugged. "Over the last two years? Couldn't tell ya. But we're not here for reconnaissance. Our mission is to go in and gain back ground we've lost in the last year one enemy at a time."

"So we're getting close and personal," someone voiced.

Becket pulled at his helmet. "Thus the loose lips."

There was a hum of confirmation from the Captain. "You all will be facing this up close and personal. Shouldn't be too difficult to get in and take them out without losing your life."

There was a lie to that no one warned them about. Becket gasped as he pressed his back to what was left of some wall, the sound of war going on all around him. He could hear orders being yelled over the comm but no one had eyes on him, nor orders for him. He knew they wouldn't the instant he had gone too deep.

He suddenly had full view of one of what they were going up against and he froze around his weapon as the thing leapt at him.

He opened his eyes to find the night sky above him. It was so crisp, so clear, that for a moment he thought he was dreaming, but then one of the enemy came into view and he knew he wasn't.

He scrambled backwards off of whatever fabric he had been laid on into the sand of the desert, the course grain irritating his bare hands and feet. The creature was quick to grab him, to pull him out of the still burning sand.

"Easy," the thing urged as he struggled. "The sand is still too hot for your kind's flesh."

He was sat back on the mat he had woken upon before crossing to the other side of a low fire. The air was still warm but it did nothing to combat the cold night air rolling in like the fire did. He was tempted to scoot closer to the fire till he realized it put him closer to the creature.

"What are you?" he asked, words tumbling passed his lips faster than he could think them. "Why haven't you-why didn't you kill me? We were killing you and yours!"

"Is that what you were trying to do?" the creature asked, it's head tipping to the side. "Even after knowing it was foolish this time of year?"

Dread froze him more than the sudden gust of cold air on his back. "What?" he choked out.

The creature pointed towards the stars. "Unlike your kind, we're affected by the stars. When Sonis and your star rise together, we are gifted with physical strength. Your hand weapons have no affect on us."

"What?" Becket squeaked. "But they said we could kill you. We had to kill you. It was a low risk mission."

The creature focused on him again. "That probably is at this time of year. While we are alert, we can prevent your hand weapons from harming us terribly even outside of Sonis and your star together in the sky and we can still be killed if you aimed your hand weapons at vital points or got a lucky shot in. But this is also our celebration season, the time most of our lives come into being and we celebrate even on the battlefield. It makes us less alert but, with Sonis protecting us, there is never a worry despite the luck your kind seems to have."

Becket rubbed at his face, burying his hands in his hair. He wondered why he wasn't freaking out more that he just realized he was missing all his equipment. He brought his gaze back up over the fire. "Is the star you call Sonis the same star we call Sirius?"

The creature's head tipped to the side and he wondered if they even understood the question.

"Yes."

[ArtisticVicu]

June 2018
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky,
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

The air rushed passed as the ground came up to meet him. His back collided with the ground first, several things breaking upon impact as the air was ripped from his lungs. He had no time to reorient himself, to even get a breath back in his lungs, before he was rolling out of the way of the incoming attack. Pain rippled down his back, weakening the muscles in his arms and legs as he tried to get distance between him and his assailant. Another dodged attack and another till he misstepped and took a hit to the shoulder followed by a hit to the chest. His back collided with a wall, agitating breaks and breaking a few more things. The pained cry slipped out with the air in his lungs.

Words were being spoken as he collapsed to his hands and knees. What had once been beautiful wings looked battered and unkept, draped from his back as useless limbs since far too much was broken now. He looked up through sweaty locks, finding his vision blurred and images duplicating.

That wasn't a good sign.

A hand suddenly came into clear focus and he flinched back, expecting a hit. Instead, the hand fisted the front of his outfit and hauled him upwards so that the other could scream in his face. What headache he had been managing intensified ten fold, blinding him with pain. He grabbed at his assailant's wrist, snarling but unaware of the words he was uttering, if any. His tongue felt too fat to even utter things properly and the ringing in his ears was helping none.

He was dropped. While normally it wouldn't have been an issue - he could have stood up and been taller than the hold had been - there was no strength in his legs to even fathom attempting to support himself with. The impact with the unforgiving ground was crippling and he swore he broke something else. A wrist, probably, with how he had landed. There was too much pain and too much exhaustion to discern anything properly now.

Something touched him and he flinched. His head throbbed from the motion and he spat something. Words, he hoped, but at that point, could have been jargon and saliva and he wouldn't even know. Nor did he care but it certainly hadn't stopped whatever had touched him from touching him again.

He realized hands were pressing firm into his shoulder and hip, though there was no pain from the touch, like the person wasn't putting any weight behind the gesture.

Blessed relief rushed through his body as the pain all but vanished.

When he came to, it was to a sore body cushioned in a familiar room.

He closed his eyes as he ground out, "Who let you into my home."

There was a pause but the shifting of fabric told him he wasn't alone.

"We...didn't take you home," came the hesitant reply.

He opened his eyes again. No, that was indeed a very familiar roof and a very familiar set of walls at the edge of his viewing limits. He turned his head, taking in the guests to the left of his bed. The furniture and trinkets were his.

"Lies," he spoke but it came out breathy. "This is my room. Those are my things."

He watched the surprise and horror wash over the faces he could see. He wondered if there were others in the room mirroring their expressions. The girl sitting beside his bed had her hands over her mouth. She had figured it out faster than the others, it seemed. That or they were new. Wouldn't surprise him at this point.

"Alexander," she whispered.

One of the boys behind her started, his staring going from her to him in an instant. He would have smirked if he had the energy.

He head pounded painfully.

"It's been a while since we've been on a first name basis, Rebecca," he replied in kind. His gaze moved to the boy staring at him. "You look well, Marcus. I'm impressed you've lasted so long."

"Sir, what's going on?" a voice asked from somewhere he couldn't see. He didn't care to move to look.

The other boy behind her looked towards the owner of the question. "In a minute."

He blinked and suddenly those kids weren't kids anymore. Heck, they had never been kids despite the ages they bore. Young adults too young and now they were all well into adulthood and looking it. He was certainly feeling it.

Rebecca's marred hands closed around his, the scars of countless battles pale on every inch of exposed skin. Marcus behind her had a nasty one on his face. He was certain he had given the other man that particular scar, destroying one of the man's depth-less blue eyes.

He still didn't recognize the kid with them.

It was probably unfair to call the adult a child but, at this point after all he and the others had seen in the beginning, they were all kids to him.

"Alexander," Rebecca spoke again, her voice stronger this time. "Why..."

He wasn't surprised she couldn't finish that. He was certain she had so many 'why's to ask that they were all blending in that quick mind of hers. She had always been one to fight against the onslaught of words in her head.

"I didn't ask for this roll, Bear," he confided, the old nickname bringing tears to her eyes faster than any speech would. "I didn't even want to take it up but I ended up in it and I had to keep to it or my past was going to take me out and destroy all we had done to hold what remained of the world together."

Marcus shook his head. "You could have leaned on us. Spoken to us. We weren't about to abandon you."

A tight, tired smile pulled at his lips. "You two might not have, but Tenner certainly would have. Pin too." Marcus shook his head again. "Same with Lolly and Hector, not to mention that you two would have at the time as well. We were too seeped into the black and white views on 'Good and Evil'. It's why I never said anything, why I hid it."

"For so long?" Rebecca choked.

He sighed, too tired to placate her. "I had no proof you guys had changed. Those you brought on seemed too bound to the old ways for me to try."

"But Sasha-"

"That she-wolf can go-!" he screamed, the force of his anger actually propelling him upwards till the action registered in his body and sent rolling pain through his body. His words jerked to a stop as Rebecca and Marcus leapt forward, hands outstretched. He curled away trying not to hack up a lung.

It just made the sudden coughing fit worse.

By the time he was able to breathe again, he was on his back once more, Those that had been on the other side of the bed were closer now and he was surprised to see a few more recognizable faces in among the crowd leaning over his bed.

"What did Sasha do?" one of the unnamed familiars asked.

He gave a dry chuckle. He lacked the air to support it fully or the words he spoke. "What didn't she do." The breath he took rattled, pain erupting through him at the same time. He winced. "Not that it matters. You guys did more damage than she ever did."

"Alexander."

He flinched. He was trying to ignore the fact that they were in the room, trying to deny himself the painful joy of even knowing their eyes were on him once more. He denied himself the knowledge that they held nothing more for him in those gorgeous eyes.

Their hand burned his skin when they touched him but he had no strength to pull away.

"What did Sasha do?"

Even after all these years - after all the years of pain and torture he had been through by his own doing and the doing of others - he could not keep himself from giving them what they wanted.

He wasn't sure if it was his heart hurting or if it was actual physical damage he was feeling.

"Betrayed me as I betrayed you." He couldn't bring himself to specify which 'you' he was referring. "Twisted my mind, my thoughts, till I believed lies and damaging thoughts. Not that it matters. I've overcome it as I do anything else."

Their hand tightened on him.

He wished they'd let go.

"Did she sway you to that side?"

"No, I swayed her." He frowned. No, that wasn't quite right, was it? "I think," he added, confused. Odd how he couldn't remember so clearly anymore.

"Do you think-" Rebecca started to ask the others but he cut in, annoyed and hopefully two steps ahead of her.

"I am not coming back," he cut in. "There is too much at stake, too much that has to change before I come back."

"But-"

He didn't give them the change, didn't dare look at them as he yanked his arm out from under their touch. He felt unbelievably cold as he slipped out of the bed brushing away Rebecca and Marcus's hands. He was grateful the bed was between them.

"Thank you, for your kindness," he offered solemnly, his wings still aching even as he knew they were well healed. Rebecca's healing magic was always so impressive, not to mention she probably had help once he had been brought into his old room if not before. "I will take my leave now."

"You won't be able to come back."

He stopped in the doorway leading to the balcony he still dreamt about. He turned back, forgetting for a moment how horrible of an idea it was to look at them, to make them real. Their gorgeous eyes held no contempt, no hate. In fact, the love they still held for him made it so much harder and far more painful to even breathe than he would have ever thought possible. He tried to smirk at them but it felt off on his face.

He hoped they couldn't tell.

"I was never planning to come back."

He took off before the pain in their gaze could register in his brain because when it did, when that image seared itself into his mind well after he had looked away, the anguish he felt was devastating.
They called it growth.

Actually, the technical term was House Adjustment. With so many years gone since the war ended, and after so much had changed - good and bad - it was deemed important that students that grew out of their house were properly resorted the next year.

Rumor had it that it wasn't a choice made by the Education Board or the school staff. Students were just suddenly being reassigned houses and people were trying to hide that it was the castle's doing.

The first time it happened, there had been severe backlash. It had been so long ago, it's only in the words of those in their last year, those that were told by those long since gone from the castle grounds. The backlash didn't come from the parents till after the events in among the student body itself but by that point, it was too late.

Twenty students of varying years over the span of three months woke up to find that their school attire had changed color. The first three - a Sixth Year Ravenclaw, a Fourth Year Gryffindor, and a Seventh Year Slytherin - thought that their housemates were pulling a prank till their Head of House came for them. The Slytherin was now a Hufflepuff, the Ravenclaw now a Slytherin, and the Gryffindor now a Ravenclaw. Out of the three, surprisingly the Ravenclaw had the easiest time adapting. The Gryffindor supposedly had things to prove but it was nothing compared to the backlash the Slytherin got not from Hufflepuffs, but from their old house.

Despite the teachers doing their best to put things back, none of the students were able to access their old houses. Despite the teachers doing their best to run interference, Hufflepuffs proved to be not only loyal but brave and cunning during those short months of turmoil. It worked out better for all in the long run.

The next batch of student gained their new colors two weeks after the first and changed everything. Suddenly there was a camaraderie among the Turncoats - the label placed upon them regardless of their lack of choice in the matter - and it wasn't uncommon to see groups of mixed houses all over the castle. Classes were suddenly blended and at the start of the near year, the schedule system had been completely revamped.

Shift quickly replaced Turncoat.

After a few years, Shifts were common. They didn't happen as regularly after the initial onslaught of recoloring but they were common enough that each house had grown to creating certain rituals for reintroduction into a new house, some kinder than others and the more severe generally being apart of the highest most years. First Years never became Shifts. Only a small few - a very small few - of Second Years had ever become Shifts and the stories surrounding why they were Shifts were never pleasant.

But to find that one has shifted out of the house system? Now that was unheard of.

That is, till he was staring at the solid white tie in his hand.

"Just what I need," he muttered, clenching the tie. The robe still on his trunk had a blank white crest, void of any other color beyond the initial black of the robe itself. The sound in the room told him that the others hadn't noticed yet as he carefully wrapped the tie in the robe and made it a little package before anyone else could notice.

"Where you going?" one of the other boys called out. "We've still got a few minutes before we were planning on hitting breakfast."

The smile came easily to his face as he half lied. "I want to stop by the library before class."

"With your robes under one arm?" There was a spattering of chuckles and his smile grew.

"Hey, got to hang on to the last of the weekend somehow."

That got a riot of laughter out of them and he took the chance to truly step away and close the door behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest but the relief of not quite getting caught was calming his nerves.

He quickly left his house - ex-house, if what he had bundled under his arm was anything to go by - and prayed that if they did gather his belongings, they found all of them. He had items stashed for a reason and he wasn't about to leave them behind.

He nearly ran face first into his Head of House. There was a stern expression on the woman's face but he could see the worry and concern that created the off putting look. He took a step back, aware that there were two other Head of Houses present and one student. She looked to be a Fourth or Fifth Year if he had to guess.

"Professors," he greeted.

"Ah. Good. Just the student we were looking for. We will be going to the Headmaster's office shortly. There is one other Shift we must go collect first," his Head of House stated.

He nodded and fell into step behind the professors next to the younger year.

It wasn't till they were nearly to the final house that she whispered, "Which house?"

He looked to her. "Ravenclaw," he lied, because it was believable. "You?"

She sagged, looking relieved. "Ravenclaw." A hint of despair returned to her expression. "Do you think their Welcoming will be a test of knowledge or something? I hope not. I don't even know why I was Shifted to Ravenclaw in the first place. I'm not studious like they are."

He looked at her, truly looked at her, and it wasn't hard to discern which house she had been from. Her Head of House kept glancing back at her, worry in the man's gaze. He reached over and touched her arm, offering softly, "You'll fit in just fine. Hufflepuffs are treated far kinder in Ravenclaw as Shifts than any other."

That had been what she had needed to hear even if he had been making it up. He barely paid any attention to Shifts and the different Welcomings. He had never believed he would ever experience that. He pressed the bundle of fabric against his side more. It seemed he had been wrong, though.

They stopped outside the final house. Minutes passed but the Professors didn't seem to be concerned. He was certain it was because they had been through this countless times and knew that sometimes it took a while. Word had made it even to his ears that sometimes students were very stubborn about Shifting or a party was thrown. The in-betweens never took long to gather.

By the ruckus that was starting to reach their ears, he wasn't sure of a party was being thrown or a riot. The Seventh Year that exited the house was proudly sporting his new colors so he was going to lean towards a party.

The group moved on and he let the Seventh Year and Fourth or Fifth Year talk. He found his words echoed by the ex-Ravenclaw Seventh Year, stating that the Welcoming for her Year - she was a Third Year, of all things - was very easy and there was no quiz, not that a few of the older wouldn't try and get her to do a few tests so that they could help her get up to par in her classes.

He wondered how accurate the Seventh Year was being or if he was being kind.

He was tempted to grab for his wand and send a stinging hex at the thought. She didn't need to be lied to by the house she was entering.

The Headmaster was waiting for them outside the Headmaster's Office. He was one of the oldest in the school but was far younger than many of the past Headmasters and -mistresses. There was still a sense of power and knowledge behind him, though, that had none doubting that he was well prepared to handle a school full of children and the staff that went along with it. He'd been there since the First Shift, after all.

"Congratulations on your new Houses," he offered the three of them warmly as the Professors stood behind them. "I expect that you will bring great things to each of your new House as well as your old. Do not forget that friends of any color are just as important as those of the same, alright?"

The Seventh and Third Year on either side of him nodded, their expressions determined. He found himself unable to respond. His Head of House placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The Headmaster's gaze fell on him at the peak of her gesture.

"If you would be willing, I would like to speak with you in my office before you move on," the Headmaster implored. He was surprised that it truly was an offer by the older man and found himself unable to deny the request regardless. He nodded and the soft smile grew a bit. The Headmaster looked to the Heads of Houses. "If you would be so kind as to escort the others to their new Houses, I would be very grateful. I am sure they will have lots of questions on the way."

He and the Headmaster stood in the hallway watching the others leave the way they had come till they had all left their sight. He turned back, meeting the Headmaster's steady gaze. There was no smile on that face but the expression was nothing but kind. "Come," the older man spoke, gesturing towards the Headmaster's Office. "We have much to discuss and another to discuss it with."

He frowned at that and found the answer to his unasked inquiry seated in one of the chairs before the Headmaster's desk. He recognized her as his Year but from Hufflepuff. She gave him a nod in greeting and he returned it before seating himself in the other chair. He did not miss the fact that she too was not in her school robes.

"Do you both have your ties?" the Headmaster inquired, leaning against the front of his desk rather than sit behind it like he had expected.

The girl pulled hers out of her pocket as he started to unwrapped his. Where his was still a solid white tie hidden by the robe in his lap, she held out a gray based tie patterned by every house color. It was artistically done, the colors not grouped by house but rather by what looked good, seeing as there was a bit of clashing between the bolder house colors that was negated by the design.

The Headmaster hummed, taking her tie with a careful hand as he wondered what her tie meant and what that meant for his. He didn't miss the fact that the Headmaster didn't ask for his.

"It would seem that you are stuck between Houses, Miss Alphaeus," the Headmaster offered genially, admiring the tie's pattern. "An easy matter to attend with, truly. Would you like to choose a new house or remain where you are?"

She gave him a flat look and the tie in his hand shifted its pattern. He wasn't sure if she had noticed but he would bet that the Headmaster had.

The Headmaster chuckled. "You do not have to answer right away, Miss Alphaeus. You are welcome to sit and ponder it as long as you wish."

"Why would I want to change houses?" Again, another shift in the pattern, equally subtle.

The Headmaster's expression turned somber. "Corinth." She didn't drop her glare. "I am aware of the hardships you are experiencing in your house. Moving houses may be what you need to finish out the rest of your years here at Hogwarts."

"But what if I don't want to?" she challenged and suddenly only two house colors were on her tie. "What if I want to leave and never come back? I don't want anything to do with this stupid school anymore!"

The colors in her tie settled and he wasn't sure if that house was going to be any better if she was having issues in Hufflepuff. The Headmaster simply offered a soft smile, handing the ex-Hufflepuff back her tie. "If you would be willing to finish out these last two years, I'm sure your new House will help you through what is left of your education."

She laughed, the sound tight and full of disbelief. "Slytherin. Really."

The Headmaster shrugged. "You would be surprised."

Neither moved, the Headmaster's calm gaze holding Corinth's incredulous one till at last Corinth reached out and took the tie from him. The Headmaster smiled at her. "I will send for your new Head of House. Please wait out in the hall for them."

Corinth nodded, standing. She left without a word.

The Headmaster's gaze turned to him and he reluctantly revealed his tie. The plain white tie was far too bright against the black robes.

"I was wondering when another student would have such a Shift," the Headmaster offered gently, taking the tie and leaning against his desk once more.

"Sir?" he questioned softly, not understanding.

The Headmaster smiled at him. "Do you have an idea of what this means, compared to Miss Alphaeus's tie?"

He opened his mouth to say no but a thought came to mind, one that he wasn't sure he believed. He let it roll passed his lips. "I no longer fit at Hogwarts."

The Headmaster laughed and he jumped, equal parts surprised and offended. "No, not quite." The Headmaster beamed at him. "It simply means that Hogwarts has nothing more to give you."

He gave the still beaming Headmaster a flat look. "I still have another year of schooling left, Professor."

"Indeed you do!" the Headmaster readily agreed. "But that doesn't have anything to do with the House system, now does it?"

He frowned. "I don't understand."

The Headmaster placed the tie on the edge of his desk, humming in thought. "Do you know why this school is set up with a house system, rather than just having all the same year in a single dorm?"

"I could guess," he responded. "But I'm sure you'll just tell me anyways."

The Headmaster laughed again. "Awe, the cheekiness of the youth. I can see why there is no color to your tie. Intelligent, brave, loyal, and cunning all in one." He opened his mouth to ask what the Headmaster meant by that, uncomfortable by the notion, but the Headmaster was already continuing on. "The Houses have become a way to allow students a safe space with like minded students they can turn to for aid. The house rivalries were always student driven, though I dare say that Quidditch and the House Points do not help with the staff partaking of the rivalries. The striking hatred between house has thankfully dwindled since the First Shifts as everyone has learned that the traits of each house are not as black and white as everyone seems to think they are."

The Headmaster gestured at him with his own tie. "This simply means you have reached the point where the house system no longer benefits you. You have reached a point only two other students have ever managed, a fact that is both impressive and disconcerting." He frowned as the Headmaster gained a wistful look. "I do not think the house system is a bad way of doing things, but it creates a separation among the students that I do not think is helping. I do not want to completely rid the school of the four Houses because that is what the Founders had created, but I do want to change it into something far better than a 'Them' and 'Us' mentality it currently creates. This-" the Headmaster hefted his tie up in emphasis, "allows me to gain a bit more insight on how the students not only benefit from the current system but surpass it. You are, however, the youngest so far to surpass the system. The others were Seventh Years. It would seem that the mark has gotten lower and I expect I will see a number more of white ties in my office in the coming months."

"So then what happens now?" he asked, only half understanding what this had to do with him and a white tie.

"I can have the sorting hat place you in a house once more or..." The Headmaster reached behind him, riffling through the mess of scrolls, parchment, paper, and files on his desk before turning back around with a few pages trapped in hand. "I have a few ways you could finish your schooling while starting into a career field. Apprenticeships, internships, other schools and whatnot."

He blinked at the Headmaster, only gaining a patient, warm gaze in return. He opened his mouth again. "And if I want to finish my schooling here? Do I have to get resorted?"

The Headmaster's expression turned mildly surprised. "You want to remain a White Tie?"

He looked at the tie, finding it hard to give up his last years at Hogwarts just because he wasn't part of a house anymore. "I don't want to leave."

"I can offer you a private room in the castle, if you would like, as the start of a new dormitory for White Ties, though we'll need a house name at some point if more do Shift till I can sort things out properly." He looked up, startled by the Headmaster's words even as the latter bits were mutterings of a thought process. The expression he found there was serious, edged with wariness and worry. "It will be isolating, seeing as you are the only White Tie for now. I am sure that will not last beyond the middle of your Seventh Year but there is no guarantee you will find another that Shifts into the White Tie as you have before you graduate."

He looked at the tie and the thought of that kind of isolation - the kind that came with being shunned by friends and fellow students - was daunting, but he couldn't get beyond the thought that he wanted to stay a White Tie and finish off his years as Hogwarts. He stood up, taking the tie and offering the Headmaster a smile. "Guaranteed or not, I don't mind being the first to wear their White Tie proud."

The Headmaster beamed at him.
His breath escaped him far too easily and he despaired when it abandoned him. His entire body fought the air he tried to suck in to replace it. He choked on it, coughing so hard that any air he took in didn't last long.

"Get back up," a sharp voice demanded. He wondered if the sneer he heard was his imagination as he pushed himself up onto shaking arms. "All the way."

"She's so mean," someone whispered from the edge of the boundaries and he somehow found the breath to chuckle at that. If they thought this was mean, they clearly didn't know his father.

He staggered to his feet and nearly ate dirt when he pitched too far to the left. Her strong hand was tight around his arm in an instant. He went with her guidance, stabilizing on his own two feet under her watchful gaze. "Thanks," he muttered, turning to face her again.

She dipped her chin as she turned. Even if they had heard his word, no one would have seen her acknowledge it. "Again," she barked as she walked away. "And this time," she turned and faced him, "try to actually do harm."

He kicked off the ground before his lungs even felt full enough to act. She met him as she always did, countering his attacks without moving. Chunks of earth, gusts of wind, even a bolt of electricity neutralized every attack as she retaliated. Water sent his way would suddenly turn to ice and he would be forced to counter. He could even feel her force in the air around him and it took all that was left of his attention to focus on keeping himself in control airborne.

Her will won out in the end and she slammed him back into the ground, back first into the same crater he had created the first time.

The impact stole his breath but nothing felt broken. Bruises were a different matter.

He winced as he drew himself upright, coughing again. Most on the edge of the boundaries were white as sheets. Those that weren't had a range of expressions; the one that mattered to him most was disappointed and almost scowling. He looked away, not caring for the mix of emotions now churning within him as he shoved himself back to his feet.

His legs gave out and his knees hit the dirt before he pitched forward. The ground didn't come up to meet his face, though, and it took a moment before he realized a strong arm was pressed against his chest, keeping him upright.

No words came from the other but she approached, speaking to the one that had caught him. "I'm impressed. It took you a full month before you would actually have at me."

The one holding him huffed before growling out, "Lay off me. I was still wary of your condition."

She chuckled, her hands taking over. "I know. And I love you for it."

He found himself on his back, blinking against the clear sky beyond her head. Her hair had pulled free of its tie still just a touch too short to stay put. She offered him a soft smile when he focused on her. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got my ass handed to me," he replied readily, a dopey grin making its way onto his face. "I'm glad Dad's got someone to go up against that can keep him on his toes."

"Of course," the aforementioned man spoke from his side, still looking like he was almost scowling. "Why would I choose to marry someone that could not keep up with me?"

As rhetorical as it probably was, he actually opened his mouth to answer the man but was cut off when she spoke up. "Last time I checked, you married me before I had my powers back."

The man sputtered. "Wha-That has nothing to do with this!"

Even from his awkward angle, he could see the smile creeping onto his dad's face. Despite the rough exterior the man maintained once more, there was no way those seven years of her influence on him would ever wear off. He tried so hard to fake it now and he just didn't understand why.

"If you say so," she returned, and he found himself wondering if she had a death wish. As changed as his dad was, he never tolerated that kind of sass well.

The grin that spread across the man's face spoke differently and he was once again left reeling from the fact that his dad was nothing like he remembered as the man's arms wrapped around her. "Of course I say so. I am a Prince, after all."

She went with his pull easily, leaning into the smaller man as if the mock fight had worn her out more than she was letting on. "Is it sad I'm mildly disappointed you're not a King?"

The man huffed, his face against her neck. He could see his dad's body shift and flex, supporting her fully even with the display of flirting. He was starting to get the impression they were doing that for a reason. "Not a King yet. I'm still working out the details but I keep getting distracted by this beautiful woman I know."

"Get a room," he groaned, loud and whiny.

His dad kicked dirt at him but it had been the right call. For one, it had been dirt and not an actual kick, let alone one his dad's attacks, and for another, the way she gave in during the moment those on the edge of boundary were distracted spoke of a pride similar to his dad's, if that was what kept her from just simply sagging against the man and never leaving.

"Go to your own room, brat," his dad barked without missing a beat. "You no longer have to be a waste of space in my presence."

His mom called his dad out from the boundary line, chastising the man for treating him as such. He didn't really mind as he stood. She looked better, standing on her own as they all got to their feet. He didn't miss how his dad's arm was still tight around her waist.

[ArtisticVicu]

This is Halloween 2018
An Assortment of Writings

This is Halloween was an event on a different site centered around Halloween through writing challenges and other sub-events. Each section in this thread contains the content for that given writing event.

Before you dive in, I did write to the limit to all prompts with word count caps, partially because I'm a sadist and partially because I like to. A few were simply because the story got away from me as well.

Scottie's Spoopy Stories

I request of you lovelies: give me my Halloween without the scariness! Give me your spoopiest story!! I want you to choose something scary (axe murderer, vampires, SPIDERS) BUT make it funny. Give me a story about a vampire who is scared of the dark! Give me a story about killer candyfloss! Give me a story about a spider who forces the reader to tap dance…Actually scratch that...it’ll just give me nightmares!! I request of thee, 100 to 1000 of your spoopiest words!! Title it whatever you wish.

I've got the juice

Well, I need a good juicy tale for a very scary night. The story needs to be at least 1000 words!! You are free to write your story as you wish, but it has to have a scary element to it.

“And….there.” She leaned back in the chair, studying her craftsmanship. She beamed at him. “I think that about does it. Do you want to see?”

He nodded his head, grinning from ear to ear in his excitement. Her smile grew and she reached over for the hand mirror. “Ok, ok,” she soothed. “Give me a second to get the mirror.”

She settled before him again, the reflective side of the mirror pointed to her chest. “Ready?”

He nodded again with more vigor and she turned the mirror around. He gaped at his reflection.

The costume he had wanted to wear wasn’t something common enough to be in the stores so his mom had helped him gather the necessary pieces. He looked so cool. He bounced up and down, gesturing widely in his excitement. She laughed. “Slow down. I can’t track your signing well when you gesture like that. I want to know what you were saying.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he sad instead, no longer remembering what he had said in his excitement. The repeated gesture was quick, sharp and belayed his enthusiasm. She laughed again and hugged him, mindful of his face paint.

“You’re welcome,” she gushed. The doorbell rang as she pulled away. She glanced towards the direction of the front door, her expression softening. “That must be them. Ready to go trick-or-treating?”

He nodded again, grabbing his candy basket in the shape of a pumpkin head before grabbing her hand.

The front door opened to reveal Nathan and his dad, Mr. Jones.

“Thank you again for taking Luther trick-or-treating, Marcus.”

Mr. Jones gave her a soft smile. “Not a problem, Samantha. I hope things are not as dire as they can be if you’re being called in this late.”

She chuckled. “Probably not but we can hope.” She knelt so that she was eye level with Nathan. “You look amazing in your Batman outfit, Nathan. Did you make it?”

“All by myself,” the other boy announced fiercely, puffing up in pride.

“Daisy helped with the gluing while I was stuck on cutting duty,” Mr. Jones offered to her in a soft voice. He and Nathan still heard him but it only made Nathan puff up more.

“Sounds like you did a fantastic job,” she directed to Nathan. The boy flushed but pushed his chin higher.

Mr. Jones looked to him in turn and Luther wrapped his fingers around the hem of his mom’s uniform shirt. “And who are you, Luther?”

“He’s the Scarecrow, obviously,” Nathan announced loudly. Luther beamed at him.

Mr. Jones smiled softly down at him. “Now I see it. Ready to trick-or-treat?”

Luther nodded but didn’t move from his mom’s side even as she stood up. “Will you be ok with, ah..”

“I can manage,” Mr. Jones assured her. “If anything comes up, I can Facetime you or see if Peter’s able to translate.”

She nodded. “I’ll keep my phone on me, then. If you do catch a-hold of Peter tonight, tell him I say hi and I expect a call from him sometime this week. It’s been too long.”

Mr. Jones dipped his head. “Of course. Come on, Luther.”

Luther hesitantly grasped the offered hand, letting Mr. Jones lead him from his home and away from the door. He waved at his mom with the hand still grasping the bucket and she waved goodbye back before she disappeared back into their home.

He had expected them to get into Mr. Jones’s car when they stopped at it but instead Mr. Luther simply opened the trunk and pulled out a child’s coat and a tote bag. He passed the bag to Nathan as he shut the trunk. “Here’s your bag, Nathan. We’ll try the homes around here first.”

“Ok,” Nathan announced, taking the bag. The boy took the lead down the sidewalk and Luther followed behind at a slightly sedated pace.

They turned a corner and suddenly the streets weren’t so empty. Left and right doors were being opened for trick-or-treaters and families standing on doorsteps chatting with neighbors. He looked around in amazement, eyes wide under the paint he wore instead of a proper mask. Nathan charged up to the first house and rung the doorbell himself. Luther hurried forward to stand by Nathan as the door opened.

“Trick or treat!” Nathan all bout shouted when the owner appeared.

“Sweet costumes, dudes,” the man appraised. “Here’s some candy.”

Candy was dropped into Luther’s bucket and Nathan’s tote and Luther beamed as Nathan exclaimed, “Thank you!”

The man blinked at them but Nathan was already marching back towards his dad. Luther gave his own thank you before chasing after Nathan.

“Did you two get some candy?” Mr. Jones asked, looking down at their displayed stashes. Luther beamed upon Mr. Jones’s praise. “Well done. Shall we see about the next house?”

The two of them nodded and it was easy for Luther to run with Nathan to the next door. That is till he realized which house they were going up to.

The yard was dark, the front porch lit by an eerie light, and his feet skidded to a halt at the top of the walk. Nathan was already a third of the way, ignoring the first trap that jumped at him, but Luther jumped and he wasn’t even near it.

Nathan stopped before the next spook. It was almost like someone had commanded him to stop but had left any other command unsaid. Abruptly, he turned and stomped back to Luther. He grabbed Luther’s free hand with a determined look on his face. “I won’t let the bad, scaring things get you. This way you get candy too.”

Luther blinked at him and Nathan made a face. He tugged on Luther’s hand. “Follow behind me and watch my feet. I will get us to the door.”

Luther fell into step behind Nathan, gripping tight to the other’s hand. He did as the other had said, watching Nathan’s feet and keeping pace. The spooky things moved and made noise but he ignored them. Nathan stopped and moved Luther to the side. With a sharp nod, Nathan rang the doorbell and shoved his tote forward when the door opened almost instantly. Luther mimicked him as the other shouted, “Trick or treat!”

“Here you go, boys.” Luther’s eyes grew wide at the bag of Skittles. Those were his favorite and they were giving him the big bag!

“Thank you!” Nathan shouted and Luther gestured, beaming.

He raced with Nathan back down the walk, the scary things not seeming quite so scary with Nathan’s hand in his and a big bag of Skittles in his bucket.
The scream cut through his dream and he jerked sideways as a cacophony of sound assaulted his ears. Gun fire, the sound of rain, people shouting, the wretched screams of the things outside trying to get in pounded inside his head as he scrambled to gather his things.

Bedroll was bundled in swift, practiced motions and tied securely to his already packed bag. He shoved on his shoes, his heavy coat that was several sizes too big, and then yanked the oversize backpack onto his back. She was there, arms wrapping around him, forcing his head down, leading him out of the room.

The icy air stung his exposed head, clawing at his ears and his face, at his hands. He curled in on himself, denying the air access, but she didn’t let him get far. She shoved him forward, forcing him to move faster. He stumbled, legs too short to keep up with the pace she was setting.

The air outside was even worse. The wind found its way up his coat, freezing him before he even got the chance to step into the freezing rain. She yanked at his hood. It blocked most of the view but it kept his face dry. He felt her yank on his bag as she had done in similar weather and knew she was pulling out its protective shell. It a matter of seconds they were in the thick of the storm, her feet sure in the slick mud he kept losing his footing in.

He was sure there would be a bruise on his arm by the time they stopped moving.

This way and that they rushed, trees eating at what light was barely there to begin with. Many times he was jerked away from a tree that suddenly appeared, marveling at how she had yet to actually collide with one.

His foot slipped in the mud of the sudden incline.

There were sharp things in the mud his hand sank into to keep himself from falling in it completely. Her grip on his arm saved him the rest of the way but her touch was not gentle when she yanked him back to his feet. Up the hill she shoved him, staying behind him so that she could keep him upright as he slid almost every step on the steep incline.

She didn’t stop when they reached the top.

He curled his throbbing hand against his chest under the coat. It was throbbing painfully, as was his other shoulder, and he wanted to just curl up and go back to sleep now that the adrenaline had worn off. He was tired, cold, and muddy, and yet she wouldn’t stop. On and on she forced a quick pace with a tight grip on his arm. But he knew better than to cry out when he slipped again, something digging into his leg this time. He knew better than to make any more noise than they were already making as she forced him to keep going.

The tears, though…those he could let fall at will and silently sobbed as he was dragged along on a leg that burned and with a hand that was growing painfully numb.

He didn’t see what happened.

The hood she had shoved over his head had only fallen lower over his face the more they walked in the rain and so when her grip suddenly jerked on his arm, he was thrown to the ground unprepared for the yank. Mud surged up around him and he pressed against it to get out of its cold grip. The scream escaped as a strangled cry nearby was swallowed in the rain. His hand went from a painful numb to excruciating pain and he was nearly blinded by it. He curled as best he could around his hand, shaking as he started to sob.

Something touched his head and he jerked away, the momentum too much and sending him backwards in the mud. Whatever had touched his head grabbed his shoulder and his momentum was halted by a hand far larger than his own.

His hood, however, kept going, leaving him clear to see what exactly had caught him.

He screamed.

A gruff, echoing voice offered soft shushing noises as the thing lowered itself. Its form quickly settled into something human shape. He was barely able to see that the thing was kneeling before him, hand still on his shoulder.

“I’m taking you to safety,” that low, echoing voice spoke without a mouth, the final words the only ones to register in his brain.

He shook his head, shoving the words around a choked sob. “N-no. You’re gonna kill me. You’re going to take my soul!”

The thing quivered at that. “There are things in these woods that certainly will,” the thing assured him, “but I am not one of them. Please. Trust me.”

“But what of my mom?” he asked as he started crying harder.

This time the thing cringed, curling away from him. “I wasn’t fast enough,” they spoke, but the echoing made the thing’s voice quiver oddly. “But I can be fast enough to save you, if you’ll let me.”

He sniffled, rubbing at his face. He flinched when pain flared in his hand. Curling his injured hand into his chest, he rubbed at his face awkwardly with his other hand. “Ok,” he muttered.

The thing shifted closer. “I’m going to pick you up, ok?”

He nodded, too tired and too cold from the icy rain on his head and dripping into his shirt to care. The thing’s arms wrapped around him, blessed darkness washing over him as a blessed warmth chased the cold away. Sleep came almost instantly.

When he awoke, he found himself in a room where the walls and ceiling were made of wood. In a corner a fire was crackling merrily in a metal contraption he had never seen before and the bed itself was covered in furs. He shifted about, finding a few quilts creating a layer between him and the furs. He petted the closest fur that looked interesting, the fur itself soft and leaving an odd sensation in the back of his mind.

There was a soft knock on the door to the room. He realized there were no windows as it opened.

The thing entered carrying a tray. The thing had created a form with a bit more details than a humanoid shape and he found himself relaxing at the kind expression on the thing’s face. There was still no mouth, though, as it spoke, “I made some food, if you’re hungry.”

A ball of fur which was actually several balls of fur came rushing past the thing and launching onto the bed. His squeals of fear and surprise quickly turned into shrieks of delight and laughter as he quickly found that the balls of fur were dogs of varying types and he quickly grew elated to have such loving creatures seeking his affection.

Soft noises echoed through the room and slowly, one by one, the number of dogs hounding him dwindled till one settled on his lap happy with the belly rubs he was giving as the thing settled in a chair at the side of the bed, tray no longer in hand and the dogs all happily sitting or laying about the bed and surrounding floor. An old golden colored one he hadn’t seen yet rested its chin on the thing’s thigh, getting slow, gentle pets in return.

“She was the first puppy I took in,” the thing offered gently, the words heavy as the echo made them ring. “I had taken in other dogs but never a puppy before. It had certainly been interesting to learn how to tend to a puppy but I certainly wouldn’t change anything. She’s been an incredible companion ever since.”

He reached out carefully. The dog lifted her head from the thing’s thigh and pressed her nose to his hand. Her breath ghosted over his skin before she licked slowly at his palm, exhaustion in the gesture. He moved his hand to the top of her head, making long petting strokes over the soft fur and she returned her chin to the thing’s thigh.

“Have you been around dogs before?” the thing asked into the silence.

He shook his head. “We came across another group that had a few but I wasn’t allowed near them. I only saw the dogs as they were leaving.”

The thing seemed to smile at him. “You are very good with dogs if this is your first interaction.” The thingreached out and scratched one of the smaller dogs’ ear. “They certainly are happy you’re here.”

“Where is here?” he suddenly asked, looking up at the thing. What eyes it had formed were simply white on a shadow of a shape, shifting in shape and size in a way to convey emotions.

Those eyes blinked at him. “Some place safe,” the thing offered. “A cabin not far from where I found you.”

“How far from the camp did we go?” he asked, gripping at the quilt on his lap. The dog there had yet to get up from laying on its back. He was pretty sure it fell asleep like that.

The thing shook its head. “I don’t know. I tried to find your camp while you slept but I wasn’t able to find much. I’m sorry.”

He dropped his gaze, returning to rubbing the dog’s belly. It shifted in its sleep, rolling slightly onto its side and arching backwards so that there was more belly exposed. He rubbed the larger area.

He didn’t really have a response to the thing’s words. His mom had always been too concerned with keeping them alive that they never really stayed in one group long enough for him to get attached.

His thoughts went to the damage he had sustained from their last escape, of how she had pulled him along without a concern for his well being, and clenched his wrapped hand, tears welling up in him.

The thing’s hands wrapped around his clenched one and he blinked, looking up. The tears escaped, clearing his sight. “It’s alright,” the thing assured him. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”

And that was even worse.

He woke up feeling icky. There was gunk all about his eyes and it felt like someone had stuffed his face with cotton but at least he woke up to a bed full of dogs. The thing was removing panels from the wall with the utmost care, muted sunlight filling the room. A soft breeze drifted over his face from the window by his bed that had already been opened.

“I didn’t think this room had windows,” he commented. His words came out in a croak sort of way and he made a face.

The thing turned to him and those white eyes turned crescent shape in a sort of smiling way. The words carried the same soft smile expression. “I board them up at night to keep the Rogue out.”

“Rogue?” he parroted.

The thing pushed the window open. “The thing that attacked you and your mom. They’re like me, except not.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

The thing finally faced him, expression searching. “The Rogue are driven by….well, I guess it could be considered instinct.” The thing drew the chair a bit away from the bed and sat down. He didn’t like the distance suddenly between them. “Or just a single desire: the desire for human flesh.”

He flinched at that and the thing cringed before putting its hands up. “I know it sounds bad but hear me out real quick.” The thing hesitated. “I…It isn’t as simple as it sounds. We don’t have what makes a human,well, human. Whether that’s their heart or their soul, I don’t know. What I do know is this: whatever the Rogue desire, it is not something they can gain from consuming a human being but they are driven to obtain what they do not have.” The thing pressed a hand to its chest. “Deep within me is the desire to be more than what I am, to be that of a human, but I still have the cognitive strength - my mind is strong enough to know that doing harm to another sentient being will not give it to me.” The thing leaned forward, elbows going to its knees. “But the Rogue do not have that. They do not have the same strength of mind as I do, cannot think about things logically. They only desire and go after that desire in the only way they can see.”

He curled up, hand going to the nearest dog. It woke up, looked at him, and happily rolled over, tongue lulling out in joy. Another dog woke up enough to get up and settle against his hip, effectively creating a sort of safe guard.

“Do you fear me now?”

He looked up, bandaged hand stilling in the long fur of the dog he was petting. The thing had its face angled towards the ground but the eyes were a bit flat and looking up at him.

He shook his head. “You are taking care of me. And these dogs don’t fear you.” He rested his chin on his knees, returning to running his bandaged hand through the fur he could reach. “There was always talking about getting an animal of sorts. The things that attacked always made the animals uncomfortable just before the things would harm us.”

The thing made a noise but he didn’t understand what it meant. It didn’t seem important because the thing left it at that. Silence settled over the room, the only sounds coming from the open windows and sleeping dogs. After a long moment, the thing stood up, though it seemed hesitant in its motion. “Let’s check your leg. Your hand was easy to check and re-wrap while you were sleeping.”

He stopped petting the dog, allowing the thing to start waking and moving some of the dogs out of the way.

“What’s your name?” he asked a while later as the thing re-wrapped his leg. Supposedly it wasn’t bad but he didn’t trust the thing. The injury still hurt and looked nasty.

“I don’t have one,” the thing replied.

He made a face at that. “Why not?”

The thing shrugged before standing. “Never needed one. Do you want to go outside with me while I tend to some chores?”

He nodded and took the thing’s offered hands. He kept weight off his wrapped leg, waiting with the thing as the dogs started moving about. The largest came over and nuzzled him in the gut as he decided, “I’m going to call you Papi, then.”

“Poppy?” the thing parroted, helping him onto the dog’s back. The dog seemed quite content with having such charge and padded right along the thing’s side without a care in the world.

“Papi,” he confirmed. “Like Pauper but without the last ‘er’.” He let the thing pick him up and sit him in one of the chairs on the porch. “The Prince and the Pauper was my favorite story my mom used to tell me. The other kids used to say it wasn’t the right story the way she told it but I don’t care.”

“Well, since I’m Papi now, what do I call you?” the thing asked.

He grinned. “My name’s Daniel Prince but my mom called me Danny.”

Time passed in a blur after that. Papi taught him all that they knew, showing him how to tend to the different edible plants, what wild growth was and was not safe, and how to keep himself safe from the Rogue even without walls to protect him. Before he knew it, he was hunting on his own with a pack of dogs he had taken in himself and living quite well.

His leg hadn’t healed right, though. Neither really had his hand but he still had both so he counted himself lucky. He had learned to use his left hand just as efficiently as he had been with his right and despite the pronounced limp and occasional collapsing of his left leg, he was still able to be quick through the trees and steady on uneven terrain.

He saw less and less of Papi till they just stopped returning home. It hurt to look out into the darkening woods searching for Papi in among the growing shadows but he did it every night, putting up the star crystal they had found together next to the front door so that Papi would always have a light at home on.

The Rogue activity around his home grew worse as the years progressed. The number of groups of humans that would pass at the edge of his dwellings dwindled till it had been nearly half a year since the last group had passed with dire words. The things were becoming more aggressive and brave, or so the whispers had said. There had even been whispers of a possible sanctuary but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his home. Not while Papi was still out there.

He found a young girl lost or - stars forbid - abandoned in the woods near his home. He took her in, cleaned her up, and put her to bed with a full stomach. A Rogue tried to break in, too, but she thankfully slept through it.

He stopped putting the star crystal out after that.

The girl barely old enough to walk couldn’t remember her name so he called her Poppy in Papi’s memory. Nightmares and other challenges made that first year together fly by and by the time they were forced to leave the house he had basically grown up in, she was almost as tall as he was and able to hold her own as he had.

The house was brutally attacked, leaving him with an injured left leg once more and a nasty injury to the face. They had put some distance between them and the house before they had stopped, what number of the dogs that had survived, settling on the ground panting as hard as they were.

He hissed when she washed the injury on his face. “Gentle, Poppy, please,” he urged, trying his best not to flinch away from her touch.

She gained a conflicted expression. “I’m trying but it has to be cleaned before it gets infected. Do you want to bite down on something?”

He shook his head, shifting pressure off of his newly injured left leg as best he could. “Clean it, but be gentle around my eye. It hurts there the most.”

And gentle she was, but it did nothing for his eye. Two weeks later after it had healed they discovered he was now blind in that eye. His depth perception was shot for another few months as he adapted to it. His left leg wasn’t much better but at least it supported him now.

They started losing dogs in the middle of the night.

He shot upright, his good eye quickly snapping around their little camp picking out Poppy’s form and the three dogs. Heart pounding in his chest, he got up. He had to use a tree for support without his brace. They hadn’t had company of any sorts in the last two years of them traveling across the continent and he wasn’t sure if it was because there was no longer a threat or if there was no one else around to be hunted. His fingers dug into the bark as he tried to pick out what was in the trees. With a shaking hand, he pulled on the string around his neck and pulled the star crystal out from under his shirt.

The area was suddenly illuminated in a soft light that didn’t blind him in the process.

He gasped, nearly crashing back to the earth as the strength in his legs vanished. The star crystal thudded against his chest as he grabbed at the tree. He lowered himself slowly to the ground, staring at the shape in the shadows beyond their little camp.

“Papi?”

He got the distinct impression the shadow was smiling softly at him. “Hello, Danny. It’s good to see you again.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand. You’re here?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

There was a pregnant pause and the longer it lasted, the more uncomfortable he grew.

“You’ve done well for yourself, Danny. She’ll be able to go far and do great things with your teachings.”

Fear stole his breath and a primal desire to protect drove him to his feet. He quickly placed himself between Papi and Poppy. The oldest of the three dogs woke at the commotion. Its head came around and it bared its teeth, growling. He found himself agreeing with the dog.

This was not Papi.

At least, it wasn’t the one he remembered.

“Please, Papi,” he tried, taking a shuffled step forward, hands reaching towards the shadow. “Think about this before you rip me from her life.”

“Would that be so bad?”

He stilled, a different emotion freezing his insides.

“It would allow her to move faster, to lessen the burden of another soul. It would free her, allow her to move without the hindrance of taking care of another soul.”

“What?” he choked, taking a startled step back. Papi - this thing - wasn’t saying what he thought it was, right?

The thing shifted its weight. “Clearly you have felt the weight of another soul on your shoulders. On your soul, even. You know how heavy that burden can be.”

He shook his head, arguing, “But that’s a burden that’s welcomed greatly. To help another through hard times and to find pleasure in their gratitude and willingness to offer aid in turn is what makes us human.”

“Does it, though? So many humans torture each other, it’s no surprise the Rogue exist.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice quaking against the underlying meanings he could make out.

The thing blinked at him. “Humans created the Rogue, the Shadows, whatever you want to call us. Some changed willingly, becoming the Rogue without a thought and annihilating what of humanity remained. Others fought it, fought what others forced them into, and changed into the benign things that became known as Shadows. But there were always a few that used it to their advantage, used it to experiment and discover just how far a human could be pushed before they broke and changed.”

He closed his good eye against the answer, his heart heavy in his chest as he asked, “And which one were you?”

The silence was heavy and it wasn’t till after he focused back on the thing that he got an answer.

“You are the 7th child out of 56 that I have taken away from parents in an assortment of manners. You were the first one that I killed the remaining parent and the only one to make it this long; though, that doesn’t mean much, seeing as there are still a few within their first five years.”

The words were stated with no emotion or inflections. They still hurt, knocking the wind out of him so thoroughly that he found himself on his knees as his lightheadedness faded. He gripped at the ground beneath his hands, asking, “And how many of those 56 are currently alive?”

“Including you and 'Poppy’?” His gaze snapped up in horror at that.

The thing stared at him. “That would depend. In what state would you consider them alive?”

The words were like a slap to his face as he choked on the scream. “Still human,” he clarified, the words wavering under his fight against screaming them at the thing still staring at him.

He didn’t get a direct answer and the longer the silence between them lasted, the sicker he felt.

Finally, the thing answered him.

“4.”

“And beyond Poppy and me, how many are of age?”

Another long pause.

“None.”
31 Days of Horror! Writing Marathon

This event forces writers out of their comfort zone and into the challenge presented. Every day a new prompt will be available for writers to look at and take up the challenge of. The writer is given 48 hours to complete the prompt. Each entry must have 100 words but can go over. There is a maximum of 1000 words.

Prompts are bold in each entry.

Day 1: All Hallows' Eve
Day 2: Pumpkin head
Day 3: From The Beyond
Day 4: Scarecrows' Scream
Day 5: Rotten to Grotesque
Day 6: Casting Spells
Day 7: A Witches' Brew
Day 8: Heart Attack Zombies
Day 9: Poisoned Apple
Day 10: It’s Close to Midnight
Day 11: Spooky time
Day 12: Did I just see it?
Day 13: House on the hill
Day 14: Flying on a broom
Day 15: Lucky candy
Day 16: The beauty of the lie
Day 17: I see clearly
Day 18: Oh mummy!
Day 19: This is hell
Day 20: Birthday in the holiday
Day 21: Toilet decoration
Day 22: Light vs. Dark
Day 23: It's almost time
Day 24: Don't forget 3 Oct 1
Day 25: Growing in the dark
Day 26: Shivers
Day 27: White cat, Black cat
Day 28: No more mister nice guy
Day 29: 13 is unlucky number
Day 30: Ego Zombie
Day 31: This is Halloween
The morning air was crisp as the sun cleared the horizon. Frost obscured most windows as the snow from a few days prior still had the grass buried beneath a blanket of white. Children were already bundled and playing in the snow, thrilled to be out of school for the weekend and finally able to enjoy what fall had brought them.

It was only a glance of the scene but his brief gander outside filled him with content. He turned away, tapping at the tablet’s face as he focused back on her.

It wasn’t overly cold in the room but it certainly wasn’t cozy warm either. They were both in sweaters, though he dared not take his off because he happened to be contently warm, but he wasn’t sure if she was still in hers for the same reason or something else.

The sweater was clearly not hers. In fact, he was fairly certain it was from the unspoken depths of his closet. The sleeves fell a few inches beyond the tips of her fingers, a point she was currently utilizing to keep her hands warm rather than scalded by the hot mug of cocoa steaming in her grip. He could smell the shot of coffee that had been added to the hot chocolate. The bottom hem settled near her mid thigh, a fact most women would have exploited but she was dressed in jeans and a turtleneck underneath, said turtleneck covering what the collar of the sweater left exposed.

It was almost like she had been taken from some festive magazine cover and turned into a cardboard cutout placed before the window. Even her hair - with nothing more done to it than what she normally did - was draped around her shoulders in soft waves, silky locks reflecting the morning sun as natural highlights.

Absolutely breathtaking.

He pulled out his phone and quickly took a few pictures. She didn’t notice, not that he expected her to. He was prone to taking pictures at random and with the highest end camera setup one could by on mobile devices at his disposal, he took a ridiculous amount of pictures.

A goofy grin graced his face as he played with a few of the shots he had gotten, adding filters and adjusting lighting here and there and posting his favorites - a raw and two edits - to his Instagram.

He waited.

There was a chirrup from her person and she blinked, whatever thought or place she had been in disturbed by the notification. She shifted the mug into one hand before freeing the other from its sleeve and fishing out her phone. Giddiness filled him at the arch of her eyebrow and he waited excitedly.

“Impressive,” she spoke, amusement pulling her lips into a smile. She looked up at him, the smile settling on her lips. “I like them. Can I use one?”

“Of course,” he assured her, his tone playfully harsh. “And how many times will it take for you to stop asking?”

Her smile grew. “Oh, a few more, at least,” she teased.

“Few more what?”

He looked over, finding his roommate stumbling out of his room looking disheveled and grouchy. Said roommate paused, eyes narrowing. “I smell coffee.”

“Fresh pot in the kitchen,” she explained and his roommate made a beeline for the aforementioned pot. “Morning Aiden.”

She gained a grunted response but didn’t appear put off by his rather lacking reply.

“A few more reminders that Pandora has rights to use any photos I make of her, barring if it was taken for free and she makes money off of it, I at least get lunch,” he in turn answered Aiden’s first question.

“I don’t remember the lunch part,” Pandora helpfully interjected, a sleeve covered finger tapping against her chin.

He shrugged. “I just instated it.”

“As in our starving artist is currently starving,” Aiden drawled from the kitchen.

Pandora laughed behind him and he scoffed, though it was hard to not smile. He could see the smirk peaking out around Aiden’s coffee cup as the man took a drink. “Oh please. Don’t oversell me. I’m just your resident black hole. Always starving. None of this artist biz.”

Aiden snorted, shooting him a look. “Don’t let Maria hear you say that. She will have your hide if you up and quit before the holidays are out.”

His eyes got comically large as he sputtered in mock horror. “Abandon Maria before the busiest time of year? I would never dream of such a thing. She buys me lunch once a week because of it and it’s the only good meal I get.”

Pandora was bend over wheezing with laughter as Aiden rolled his eyes. The smirk was still on the man’s scruffy face. “I did not ask for a drink with a show, Peter.”

He just beamed at his roommate.

As Pandora calmed down, there was a scattering of screams and laughter out on the grounds and, despite not actually seeing anything from where he stood, he glanced towards the window, catching Aiden pulling at the blinds in the kitchen window to peak outside.

“You planning on hanging around and giving out candy tonight?” Aiden asked, gaze still out the window.

He shook his head, offering, “I got invited to the "office party”-“ he rolled his eyes with the air quotes, "but I wasn’t planning on staying for very long.”

Aiden frowned at him before his gaze moved to Pandora. “You going with?”

Pandora shrugged. “Maria said she wasn’t sure how I ended up with an invite seeing as I’m not actually staff there but she wasn’t about to say no to me showing up for their ’All Hallows’ Eve’ shindig.”

Aiden snorted. “‘All Hallows’ Eve’? Really?”

Pandora shrugged. “Wasn’t my idea.”

“I don’t even think it was Maria’s,” Peter offered, amused. “She had the same reaction when we first got the invites. Heard her muttering something about suffering through event planning meetings just to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Aiden threw back what was left in his coffee before asking, “Those things usually come with plus one invites?”

“Why? Wanting to come along?” Pandora teased.

Where she had found humor, he had found confusion, and he clarified on the tail of her words, “I though you had been planning on hitting up Marcus’s house party tonight.”

Aiden turned the tap on and rinsed out his cup. “It doesn’t start till 9. Marc said I was good to show up whenever but if I get to check out this ‘All Hallows’ Eve’ office party with my own eyes beforehand, I wouldn’t say no to tagging along.”

“It does start at 5,” Pandora added, walking over to pass Aiden her mug. She looked to him as Aiden took it without comment. “Would give you a reason to leave early.”

“Such a pity I’m out of a ride and Marcus lives too far out for us to stay long,” Aiden commented,

Peter chuckled. “That the excuse we’re going to run with, then?”

Aiden shrugged. “Not much of an excuse if it’s the truth.” Aiden fixed him with a look. “No point in taking two cars to an office party when you know that Marcus would be thrilled to see you guys.” His look moved to Pandora. “Barring you’re game on leaving early too.”

Pandora shrugged. “I’m not opposed to it.”

Peter clapped his hands together. “Then we’ll leave here at four thirty, get there when we get there, and leave by six at the latest?”

He gained a nonverbal affirmation from Aiden as Pandora agreed, “Sounds good to me.”

“Great.” Peter turned his attention to his roommate. “Is Marcus’s party a costume party?”

Aiden blinked at him. “Dude, you know Marc. Any excuse to throw a costume party, he’s going to jump on it.”

“You have a costume, then.”

Aiden’s look turned flat. “Why.”

Pandora shifted forward, gaining the scruffy man’s attention. “Office party is costume mandatory. Costume contest and all.”

Aiden made a face. “Seriously?”

Peter chuckled. “Hey, should be interesting to see what an office full of artists throws together.”

Aiden arched an eyebrow, clearly not sharing the same thought. “There are enough snobs in that 'office’ of yours that I’m expecting half those costumes to be half-assed.”

“Like none at Marcus’s party will be.”

Aiden pointed a finger at him threateningly. “Hey. At least they’ll be in good taste and actually meant to be something. Buying a child’s caplet and shoving those plastic ring teeth and calling yourself a vampire is a cop-out.”

“Wait,” Pandora cut in. “People do realize they make adult versions of those capes, right?”

Peter shifted his weight back, arms crossing over his chest. “I’d bet good money we see at least two of the same cheap store bought costume tonight before we leave the office party.” He met Aiden’s gaze. “And a shitty vampire walking in just as we’re leaving already sloshed to the wind.”

The grin that streaked across Aiden’s face was dangerous. “I’d take that bet. Shitty vampire already there, two of the same cheap costume but one is only wearing a piece of the costume over normal clothing.”

“Loser buys breakfast?”

“Oo!” Pandora jumped in. “I’m in on this. Shitty vampire is with third of the cheap store costume and they get there when we do.”

Peter nodded. “Ok. Winner gets to choose breakfast joint?”

Aiden frowned. “How’s the winner decided.”

“Person that has the most points,” Pandora piped in. “We’ve all got about three points total we could get.”

Peter chuckled. “We can’t do simple bets, can we?”

“Nope,” Aiden confirmed over his shoulder as he wandered towards the coffee table. “That’s why I’m writing this shit down.”

Peter focused on the tablet in his hand as Pandora bounded over to help his roommate. It turned it on, logging in without a thought. The email app was still open and he quickly refreshed the page before he started to scroll. Most of it was from his work email but a few were from his personal. Mostly ad stuff, what with him on a few mailing lists, but he found one from his mom rather easily and starred it before scrolling back up. It was one of the work ones that kept him from closing the app.

“Maria wants to know what we’re going as,” Peter announced, reading through the email.

“Why?” Pandora asked still bent over the back of the couch.

“Her original plan fell through and she doesn’t have any ideas that aren’t already beaten into the ground.”

“Well, I’m going as a witch,” Pandora offered, pushing herself upright and rolling over so that her lower back was pressed against the back of the couch between her hands. “You were going as a scarecrow.”

Aiden’s head came up. “I thought you were doing something with that pumpkin head mask of yours.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I am. I’m going as a pumpkin headed scarecrow.” The incredulous look he gained was unnecessary in his opinion. “What? It’s a good costume.”

Pandora leaned back, looking down at Aiden. “It actually is. Throw him in a corn maze and he’d be scaring everyone just by standing still.”

It was Aiden’s turn to raise his eyebrows in surprise, though the disbelief hadn’t left yet. “Really?”

Peter shrugged, a bit defensive. “What are you going as, then?”

Aiden gave him a feral grin. “A werewolf.”

Peter snorted. “That’s original.”

Aiden puffed out his chest. It just made Peter want to laugh. “I will have you know that I look badass in it.” His roommate pointed a finger at him. “And it’s not going to be anything anyone else has.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Unless you’re going in some realistic fur suit, I’m sure I’ve seen some version of it before.”

Aiden scoffed. “I’ll have you swallowing your tongue come this evening.”

“Well, as much fun as it is watching you two bicker like a married couple,” Pandora interjected, “I have somewhere to be.”
Peter blinked at her. “I thought you were staying in today to finish the last of your costume.”

She laughed. “That was yesterday. I’m meeting Jasper for breakfast. He wanted to talk business of some sort.”

“You still consorting with that one?” Aiden drawled. Peter was surprised his roommate hadn’t been more explicit.

Pandora rolled her eyes but there was a smile on her face. “Hey, I don’t like him as much as you do. But if it’s a good job, I could do with some extra cash.”

“If you need any backup with Jasper, you know we both have our phones on us,” he offered. He gave her an encouraging smile. “I do hope it’s a lucrative offer. It’s been a while since you’ve had a good project to focus on.”

“Me too,” she added. She looked down at what she was wearing before looking back at him. “I’m keeping the sweater.” She winked at him. “Hopefully it’ll keep any talk of romance at bay.”

He put his hands up in surrender, a chuckle edging his words. “The unspoken depths of my closet have always been at your disposal. I’m clearly not using it.”

She nodded. Aiden shifted forward on the couch, his arm resting on the back. “You want anything of mine or are you covered?”

Her smiled twitched higher. “I’m certain I’m ‘covered’ in this massive sweater.” Peter snorted, realizing Aiden’s pun now. Aiden rolled his eyes but there was amusement in his serious expression. “Thank you, though.”

Aiden nodded. “We’ll see you shortly, then?”

“I don’t see me being gone for more than three hours,” she confirmed.

Aiden stood as Pandora made her exit, stretching. “I’m going to go stop by the store. Marc wants me to grab a specific booze only sold near us. You manning the fort till we leave?”

He nodded in turn. “I have a few last minute adjustments to make on my costume.” Aiden started for his room and Peter called after him. “Hey, while you’re out, mind picking up lunch? I’m open to either making something or eating take out.”

“If you’re paying,” Aiden shot over his shoulder, “I’ll shoot you a message when I leave the liquor store.”

The Saturday seemed to just fly by from there. Aiden and Pandora returned at the same time and Peter made them all lunch before anyone could get too caught up in preparations.

Peter was also the first ready to go, pumpkin head resting on the couch beside him as he absently stitched a patch that wasn’t overly necessary for the costume but killed time. He looked up when he heard someone entering and found himself staring.

Aiden was, indeed, a werewolf. There was no mistaking it. But the way the costume looked made him uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure what.

“Well?” Aiden snapped, teeth flashing. Peter could see a number of them were sharper than normal.

“Well what?” Peter asked, his brain too focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with what he was seeing.

Aiden rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Original enough for you?”

Peter blinked a few times as he forced his brain to focus on the questions. Aiden was in a tank top, sweats, and sneakers, all rather basic in the sense of costume clothing, but it was the aspects that spoke werewolf that were the more impressive bits.

The clothing was in prime condition, looking a little worn but undamaged. In lieu of the outfit, Aiden’s arms, chest, throat, and hands were covered in fur. Most of it was short, especially around Aiden’s rather human looking hands barring the short claws the other had instead of nails, but there was quite a bit of longer fur around Aiden’s neck and shoulders, all of it the proper length for a wolf. It even went up into his roommate’s hair, blending seamlessly with some short fur like on the man’s arms and hands edging out onto his cheekbones. His chin was the normal scruffy it always was.

It was simple but made a very solid point.

“You were right,” Peter finally responded. “You’ve effectively made me swallow my tongue.”

Aiden smirked, crossing his furred arms over his broad chest, muscles flexing. Peter frowned as something in his mind told him that there was something wrong with Aiden’s costume.

“Ready to commune with those from the beyond?”

Peter turned, looking to Pandora as she entered the space, her question full of light and teasing. Just like Aiden, her costume wasn’t a traditional witch. Unlike Aiden’s, it didn’t send his brain into a frenzy.

She wore a leather vest over a dark blue button up shirt with sleeves far billowier than modern sleeves and simple black pants. Fabric that was closer to the size of a small blanket than a scarf was draped around her waist this way and that patterned to look like a vibrant night sky. He could make out hints of what looked like a galaxy in among the folds. Her knee high leather boots had no more heel than a man’s boot and looked just as rugged with belts and laces. Several belts laden with pouches and vials filled with interesting liquids were hanging from her person; she even had a satchel slung over one shoulder to rest on the opposite hip, the perfect size for a large tomb with an assortment of things hanging from it. A wide brimmed hat with a crushed pointed top sat on her head looking far more ancient than it had any right to be. The cloak hanging from around her neck was a near black blue with faint silver creating more stars in the lining.

He huffed in amusement, commenting, “You are certainly a whirlwind of a witch.”

She beamed at him. “I even have a staff.”

That strange wrong sense that had come with his first sight of Aiden returned when she pulled out a staff as tall as her from inside her cloak.
Or, at least, it had seemed as tall as her? That strange wrong sense didn’t leave as she stood proudly with a staff that came to her shoulder and looking as if it was made from a long tube of some kind with paper wrapped around wire to make it look like a branch at the top. He wasn’t sure what the crystal was made out of but it looked fake. Well made, but fake.

He suppressed the wrong sense and smile. “That’s pretty good.”

She rolled her eyes, though her expression never lessened. “You and I both know it looks like crap. I can sew like the best of them but any sort of crafting I’m as good as a toddler.”

“Now that’s just insulting to toddlers,” Aiden commented.

Peter blinked and he saw the latter of her throwing motion. He had no idea what she had thrown at his roommate but there was an indignant squawk from behind him with the sound of something making contact.

Peter glanced over but there was no sign of whatever hit Aiden even as the man straightened, a feral grin on his face. He shuddered as the strange sensation intensified at the sight and he quickly looked away. “We about good to go, then?” he interjected, looking to Pandora.

She tore her attention away from the silent battle between her and Aiden to give him a nod. “I’ve got everything I need,” she assured him, patting some pouch for an emphasis he didn’t understand completely. He at least took it to mean she had everything in that pouch if not most of it.

He looked to Aiden. The man pointed his thumb back towards his room. “Let me grab a jacket so that my phone and keys have a place to be. I’d rather not lose my pants because my phone was too heavy.”

Peter shook his head and picked up his pumpkin head.

“I regret this already.”

Peter didn’t actually have to turn his head to see Aiden but he did so anyways before looking back to the center of the office party.

He couldn’t blame the man. Five minutes late and it seemed the party had started without them an hour ago. People were laughing and making a ruckus. A few outer pieces of costumes had been removed but that was the extent of the demolishing of costumes. Peter was certain with how some were already far more drunk than sober that there would be more costume pieces draped and laying about than the cheap party decorations. There weren’t that many decorations to begin with.

“Oh thank heaven,” a familiar voice cut through the noise. Peter turned enough to spot Maria approaching. She was dressed as, well, Peter hoped it was some character he didn’t know because she looked rather plain to him. “For a minute I thought I was going to be alone in this madhouse.”

Pandora grinned, leaning on her staff. “That bad already, huh?”

Maria rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Kings spiked the drinks with something really strong.” She glanced back towards the party. “I’m just glad that he’s the only one that’s dumped anything in it. Otherwise I’m sure we would have had a few alcohol poisonings already with whatever he had brought.”

“Jasper brought the strong booze?” Pandora asked, her words heavy with disbelief.

He found himself in the same boat. As much as he didn’t like Jasper, the man didn’t seem the type. But he knew better than to assume it had been Jasper because Jasper wasn’t the-

Something heavy and unfamiliar landed across the back of his shoulders before his insides rolled over. He went from looking at Maria to finding himself facing a drunk chicken costume that was laughing too hard to remain upright as Aiden kept his arm across Peter’s chest. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought his roommate was actually growling.

“Aw man,” the chicken wheezed, looking to the sunny side up egg and wall socket. “Did you hear thatscarecrows’ scream?”

“That was uncalled for,” Pandora snapped and Peter shuddered. His brain wasn’t functioning well if he thought he could actually feel her anger rolling over him in waves. “I should kick your wasted ass to the curb.”

The drunk’s face turned dark and Peter instinctive surged against Aiden’s arm, the pull to place himself between Pandora and the creep overpowering his thoughts. Aiden didn’t so much as twitch.

“Oh?” the drunk challenged, his attention solely on her. “I would like to see you try.”

“That’s enough, Brutus,” cut through the scene. Jasper grabbed at the drunk’s arm, a stormy expression on his face. “First you spike the drinks and now you’re harassing everyone that so much as looks away. If you don’t correct your attitude, I’ll personally kick you to the curb. Pretty sure you’ll be sober once you finally make it home. On foot.”

It wasn’t an idle threat, either. Jasper was smaller than Brutus but that didn’t mean anything. Looks could and have been deceiving.

“Friend of yours, Jasper?” Aiden spoke up, cutting through the tension.“

Jasper sighed. "Brother, actually.” Point to Peter. He wasn’t surprised neither Pandora nor Aiden had previous knowledge of said brother. Peter only knew of the man because he actually worked in the office.

“Pleasant,” Aiden nearly spat.

“Hardly,” Jasper amended, lips pulled in a tight, humorless smile. He turned his attention back on his brother. “Come on. We’re going to see if you’re too drunk to play Pin the Tail on the Donkey.”

“A kid’s game?” Brutus whined as his brother dragged him away. Brutus’s two lackies followed without a word. “You’re kidding, right?”

“If you can get through it without vomiting, I’ll buy you breakfast,” Jasper appeased.

“Deal!”

Peter rolled his eyes. He had very little doubt that Brutus had been trying to extort that out of Jasper since the beginning.

“Fun guy,” Pandora commented, her face twisted into disgust,

“You have no idea,” Peter fully agreed.
Pandora’s face twisted into disgust. “That experience went from rotten to grotesque far too quickly.” She looked at them. “I almost feel bad for Jasper.”

“I do feel bad for him,” Aiden interjected. “Jasper may be creepy from time to time but at least he tries. Brutus seems like a brute.”

“He is,” Peter informed them. “Brutus isn’t any better sober but at least sober he’s able to keep from doing anything that could get him written up.”

Maria let out a heavy sigh. “If the HR reps weren’t equally drunk, I’d have already talked to them about this scene. If nothing else, he needs a good talking to about spiking office party drinks.”

Peter gave a weak chuckle at that. “Not that it’ll change anything. You know that he’ll just do it again and say he forgot or make it so it can’t be traced to him.”

Maria scoffed. “If anything gets ruined, I’m taking it out of his paycheck.”

“Just don’t drink the punch,” Aiden teased, a smirk on his face.

She returned the smirk. “Trust me. I’m going to keep sober so that I can make sure no one drives home drunk.”

Peter watched her walk off, losing her in the swarm of costumes far faster than he would have cared for.

“Whelp, I’m all for ditching this drunk fest,” Aiden announced, stretching. “Who’s with me?”

“I am,” Pandora confirmed, already making for the door. “I’d rather been in good drunk company than this.”

Aiden touched his arm and Peter looked over, willing the foreboding feeling to go away. He didn’t want to focus on the thoughts that had wandered through his mind. He didn’t want it to become real.

“You ready to go?” Aiden asked gently. “You the one with the keys.”

Peter offered him a soft smile, touched by the concern he could see. “Yeah. Sorry. Just lost in thought.”

“Nothing bad, I hope,” Pandora spoke up, standing between them and the exit.

He shook his head, his smile growing. “Nothing bad. I promise.”

There was doubt edging their expressions but he knew they wouldn’t call his bluff. He was too skilled for that in spite of their keen sense for his lies. She nodded, her expression turning amused. “Good. We don’t need a mopey scarecrow. If I had wanted one, I’d have gone to the nearest cornfield and grabbed a stuffed one.”

Peter chuckled as Aiden gave a bark of a laugh. He nudged Peter, joking, “Hey, you know how to rag doll? I’m certain I could carry your scrawny ass.”

Peter pushed him back without any force as he followed his friends out the door.

“This where the party is located?”

Peter turned and had to take a steadying breath. He had thought that Brutus had come bid them farewell in his own way but it was someone else in the same cheap chicken costume supporting a sloshed, shitty vampire. It was a miracle the man was even able to speak around the plastic teeth with how drunk he was.

“Yeah, already in full swing with most of the guests in a similar state as you,” Aiden replied hotly. He focused on the chicken. “If you don’t want your friend to end up in the hospital, keep the punch out of his hand. It’s been spiked with some strong shit.”

The chicken’s expression quickly filled with relief. “Thank you.”

Aiden nodded as the trio stepped around them. Peter glanced back, watching the pair disappear into the party. The chicken had been talking softly to the sloshed vampire, and that strange wrong sense tickled the back of his mind.

The drive to Marcus’s wasn’t long and Peter climbed out into the quickly cooling air. He let out a breath and watched it curl skyward. He quickly followed after Pandora and Aiden as they approached a familiar house. The hairs started to stand on the back of his neck but he ignored the faint feeling.

Aiden knocked heavily on the door, grip adjusting around the bag in his hand. Peter pulled his pumpkin head on.

The door opened and Peter blinked. He found himself staring at another shitty vampire but this time lacking the plastic teeth. “Aiden!” the vampire greeted. The vampire’s gaze turned to him and Pandora. “Hey, guys! Aiden. You were supposed to tell me if you were able to wrangle them into coming.”

Aiden snorted. “Come off it, Marcus. You don’t care either way.”

Marcus grinned at them. “You’re right. I don’t.” He opened the door fully. “Come on in, guys. Yer early so there’s no one else here.”

“Need any help with prep, Marc?” Aiden asked as he led the way to the kitchen.

Marcus took over the lead, stealing the bag out of Aiden’s hand. “Well, I could use some help with the last of the cooking. I’ve got a few more things set up to make so if I could get extra hands, that would be good.”

“I’ll help,” Pandora spoke up. “I’m the only one that knows how to cook here.”

“How rude,” Peter interjected. “Did I not make us lunch?”

She grinned at him. “You did, but that doesn’t mean it’s any good.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, unable to act properly affronted when a grin was pulling at his lips.

Aiden patted his shoulder. “Go see if Marc left any decorations laying about and leave the kitchen to Pan. I’ll go prep the backyard.”

Peter chuckled as Pandora and Marcus disappeared into the kitchen. “Alright. Call if you need any help.”

Aiden nodded and disappeared out the back door.

Peter suddenly found himself alone with only the sound of Pandora and Marcus’s voices drifting in from the kitchen too soft for him to hear any of the words. That strange wrong sense settled over him heavily and he turned away from where everyone had disappeared to.

He found the decorations easily; it seemed Marcus had just dumped them on and around the coffee table.
The strange wrong sense was electricity through his body as he dug through the decorations, separating things out as he went for the different areas. It got so bad he found himself frozen half stretched towards one pill with a bag of streamers dangling from his hand waiting for something to happen.

He shook himself and put the bag down.

He yelped when his phone chirruped at him and fumbled for it with shaking hands. There was no reason for him to be so jumpy. Everything was fine.

Right?

“You alright in here?”

Peter looked over to find Marcus sticking his head out of the kitchen, a splotch of flour on the man’s cheek. Peter gave him a sheepish grin, holding up his phone. “I’m fine. Just got a bit startled was all.”

Marcus relaxed and Peter wondered if the strange wrong sense was getting to him. It looked like Marcus had been expecting bad news. “That happens. You good with the decorations? There enough?”

Peter looked at the organized chaos around him. He gave Marcus a look. “With the whole party store in your living room?” He grinned, sarcasm heavy as he finished, “Absolutely not.”

Marcus beamed at him. “Let us know if you need a hand with any of it.”

Peter nodded and the other left.

Alone once more, all of his attention went to his phone. Marcus had been expecting bad news. Regardless if he was seeing things or not, he was not about to let go of the fact that he had seen relief when he had responded.

He found a voicemail waiting for him with no indication he had missed a call. Slightly annoyed at the lack of any further notification, he tapped his voicemail and brought his phone to the ear.

“You have one unheard message,” came the automated response.

There was a brief pause before the message started.

“Peter.” He jumped, becoming ramrod straight. There was the sound of a massive party muffled beyond Maria’s quiet voice. “Listen to me. For the next 24 hours, you have to be exceptionally careful. There are….people looking for you and your friends. You guys aren’t safe. I’ve stalled what I can but I’m not able to stay here and keep an eye on things.”

There was a pause filled with the faint sound of fabric shuffling. “Tell Aiden….tell Aiden that it’s time we removed the veil. It’s been on long enough and we need-” She choked and he pressed the phone closer to his ear, a lump in his throat as his heart went out to her. He could see her huddled in some empty office trying not to cry. “We need what was obscured back. We need to be able to see, regardless of the consequences, because right now the veiled cannot speak for themself. Please Aiden.”

A sob broke her words and she choked it and others down. When she continued on, her voice was steadier, stronger. “We cannot be blind anymore. They’re coming, whether we want them to or not.”

He shuddered. He may not know the context but the warning was clear. Whatever or whoever was coming was something that they needed to be prepared to face in whatever fashion that was.

He turned as the automated voice started talking and crossed to the sliding glass door. It slid without hindrance and he found Aiden unstacking some chairs in the grass around a large fire pit already prepped with kindle and wood. Aiden looked to him as he stepped out of the house, a frown quickly overtaking the happy expression. “What is it?”

Peter brought his phone back to his ear, hearing some chunk of the automated voicemail system and pulled it away just as quickly to press a button. He shoved the phone at Aiden. Confused and worried, Aiden took the phone and listened.

That strange wrong sense increased. He almost wanted to say it had returned but he knew it had never gone away since the moment he entered Marcus’s home. But the longer he waited for the message to reach its end, the more Aiden’s expression closed off.

Aiden removed the phone from his ear. “You listen to it?”

Peter gave a sharp nod. “All of it.” He stepped forward, almost begging, “What did she mean? What’s after us? What’s after me?! What’s veiled?”

Aiden didn’t answer his questions. He did wait till Peter had finished asking before stepping around him and starting for the sliding doors. Something potent washed over him and he suddenly reached out, grabbing AIden’s arm. Something was telling him if he let Aiden enter that house before him, without him, he would never get answers.

He ignored the part that was telling him that he wouldn’t even remember he had questions.

Aiden stopped, startled even as he looked back at Peter. Peter’s grip convulsed as he demanded, “What are you going to do.”

“Tell Pandora,” Aiden responded.

Liar.

“Then give me my phone.”

Aiden frowned at him. “What? Why? I’m going to give it to Pandora to listen to.”

He shook his head. “Marcus had asked me if there was anything wrong earlier. I want to be able to amend things before you go storming in.”

Aiden seemed hell bent on pushing the matter. It left the phone in easy reach and Peter snagged it before Aiden could even notice the mistake. He was through the sliding door before the other could grab him.

He didn’t give the others a chance to speak. Quickly restarting the message, he shoved the phone at Pandora. “Listen to this.”

Confused, she pressed the phone to her ear as Aiden stepped into the house. Slowly her expression changed just as Aiden’s had but there was a sort of sorrowful resignation to it. She met what Peter assumed was Aiden’s gaze over his head. “We can’t ignore this.”

“So, what, you’re just going to start casting spells without explaining anything to him?”
Peter’s gaze snapped to Aiden, cutting in, “Casting spells on who?”

“I’m not that eager to follow through with her urging,” Pandora countered as if Peter hadn’t even spoke. “I’m the one that had put the veil on in the first place. If I had thought it wasn’t a good idea, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“But to remove it now?” Marcus interjected, apparently in on whatever was happening. Peter felt jealous. “Wasn’t it put on to keep things hidden for a reason?”

“Reasons Maria doesn’t believe matter anymore,” Aiden ground out, crossing his arms.

“So, what?” Pandora challenged. “I just erase this and we move on with the party? What if Maria is right? What if we’re in danger - if Peter’s in danger?”

“Peter would like to know what he’s in danger of,” he interjected sharply.

He was, unsurprisingly, ignored again.

“Then we put up necessary protections and leave it at that,” Aiden stated as matter of fact but even Peter could tell it wasn’t that simple and he wasn’t even in on the conversation.

“Doing that would create problems with several of my guests ,” Marcus spoke up, sounding affronted. That peaked Peter’s interest but he had learned that he wasn’t about to be told anything any time soon. “I will not risk that. This event is important to me and the others. If you’re that concerned, remove the veil or leave but you cannot stay here.”

Peter was starting to get the impression the conversation was about him.

A little voice certainly was adamant about it.

“Leaving would just draw attention to us,” Aiden countered but Pandora was on his heels.

“Staying is going to do so moreso.” She shook her head. “As much as I don’t like it, I think we should go with Maria’s word. We need to be able to see what’s coming.”

“But removing the veil will only make him a beacon!” Aiden shouted. It’ll make it harder to stay in one place for too long, let alone getting away at all. For all we know, they could be right outside.“

"They’re not.”

The silence rang in his ears but he ignored it in favor of meeting Aiden’s gaze. At least now he had everyone’s attention. “They’re not right outside,” he repeated. He wasn’t sure who ‘they’ were but he knew in his every being that 'they’ were not right outside. In fact… “Maria was good on her word. We have probably an hour.”

Something in the room shifted and that strange wrong sense settled over Peter again. It was Marcus that broke the silence. He looked to the other as the man shifted. The strange wrong sense intensified when he focused on Marcus’s face as the man smiled tentatively. “Peter, this is going to sound weird, but what do you feel when you look at my face?”

He bristled, suddenly feeling very exposed. “Feel?” he tested. “Not see?”

Marcus’s gaze flickered over his shoulder to Aiden but it told him nothing. “We can do that one next. But first, I need you to tell me what you feel.”

Peter made a face, feeling wrong just saying it but a part of him knew he had to do it, trusted in this in a way he didn’t understand. “I don’t know how to describe it beyond a strange wrong sense. It’s not quite a feeling and it’s not quite a sensation but it’s very tangible.”

“Do you get that with me?” Aiden questioned.

He looked to Aiden still in full costume and the strange wrong sense didn’t diminish. He nodded, explaining, “But unlike with Marcus, it’s with all of you.” He made a face. “Well, barring your legs.”

There was a thunk of something tapping against the floor. It flared the strange wrong sense for a moment. “Anything with me?”

Peter turned his gaze on Pandora, already speaking by the time he faced her fully. “Not with you specifically, but I have it when I look at your staff.”

If he had thought that would let him in on the conversation, he was sadly mistaking. Pandora’s gaze snapped over his head to Aiden. “It’s already lifted.”

“But he hasn’t said anything,” Aiden countered.

Peter gave him a bewildered look as Marcus inquired, “So what does that mean? Is it failing?”

Pandora scoffed. “My spell? Failing? Not a chance.”

“If it’s not failing, then it’s got to at least be wearing thin,” Aiden pointed out sharply.

“But the only way for that to happen would be if he was in constant contact with High Magic,” Pandora denied. “He’s been around us since I put it on him and none of us are High Magic.”

“Could he-” Marcus started but Pandora cut him off with a scoff.

“He’s far more human than magic.”

“Gee, thanks,” he commented, finding it odd that he found the comment familiar when pointed at him.

Pandora’s gaze snapped to him, her hands going to her hips. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she defended and he threw his hands up in the air, finally getting fed up with all of it.

“No of course not!” he agreed, the sarcasm there at the edge of his words. “The only thing wrong here is that you all seem to be having a discussion about me without me.” He gave them all dirty looks. “And last I checked, I’m just as much part of this group as Marcus was.”

Marcus blinked before shooting him a grin. “Hey, thanks!”

Peter gave him a flat look. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Awe,” Marcus moaned, sagging. The sight was amusing.

Aiden seemed to growl with his sigh. “Fine. Say we do remove it. Do you need to create a witches’ brew or something?”

Pandora opened her mouth with a retort but seemed to think better of it as she stated instead, “No, nothing like that. It’s a simple spell. Takes no preparation and little to no participation from either party.”

“Then remove it.”

All eyes were on him again.
“Remove it,” he repeated. When no one responded, he pressed, “I don’t want do be the only one with no clue what we’re running from and why. Yes, I’ve gathered it’s something to do with me,” he shot at Marcus as the man opened his mouth, “but I don’t know why or what is after us and I don’t want to be dragged about half blind and inadvertently get us caught.”

Pandora started shaking her head, her expression belaying her hesitation. “It’s not that simple, Peter.”

“Why not?” he challenged. “It seems that simple to me. A half clinging spell needing that final shove to release, right?”

Pandora closed her eyes at that. “You make it sound so easy.” The air was heavy with something he didn’t understand. She looked at him. “But it’s not. A half clung spell is far more dangerous than one that is complete. Trying to remove it could have dire consequences, consequences far worse than death, and I don’t want to risk that with you.”

“And if I asked you to?”

“Peter!” He looked to Aiden as both the other men’s voices echoed in the home shouting his name.

“You can’t ask her that,” Aiden ground out, a snarl escaping the man as he took a step forward.

Peter held his ground, a flat look on his face. “It was a question, not me actually asking her to do it.” There was a pause full of confusion. He could almost taste it. He looked back at Pandora. “And if I asked you to?” he repeated, his voice soft, gentle.

Her arms were wrapped tight around her torso as she stared at him. He wasn’t certain if she was looking for anything and whether or not she had seen what she wanted. She shrugged. “I’d deny you, do what I could to keep you from pushing the issue.”

Peter nodded. “And what would it take for me to convince you it’s what we have to do.”

Aiden stepped closer, growling, “Peter-”

He was surprised when Aiden actually stopped when he raised his hand, his attention on Pandora. Her gaze was searching his.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “It would have to be some rather powerful points, if nothing else.”

“Peter, please,” Aiden urged.

Peter couldn’t spare him a look as he spoke, “I don’t know what’s going on, Pan. I have no idea what we’re up against and why it’s after me. I have no idea what to look for, what to listen to, and certainly no idea what we’re in for. Please. I’m not asking for it to be lifted immediately, nor am I asking you to go against your beliefs in this because I’m still trying to just wrap my head around the fact that there’s supposedly a spell on me.” There was an involuntary twitch at her tight frown like she had wanted to smile. He smiled softly for her. “And, quite honestly, it’s going to keep me freaked out for the rest of the evening.” He sobered a bit. “What I’m asking instead is for you to figure out a way to remove what of the spell remains. I’m certain Marcus would be willing to help where he could and I know that Aiden is always willing to help.”

“Without question,” Aiden assured before giving a cheeky grin. “Unless it’s heart attack zombies; then I’m out.”

There was a joke there that he didn’t get but it was clear how both Marcus and Pandora relaxed and laughed at it that Aiden had done well to break up some of the tension.

She didn’t give in completely. Her grip on her staff flexed, drawing his eyes. That strange wrong sense settled over him but now that it had been faced in a half sort of way, it almost felt familiar. He let the sense be, wondering if he could see what was hidden.

He wasn’t stupid. That or he was overthinking things. Marcus had not dismissed the ‘see'ing aspect of the sense. In fact, it had come across as if he should be seeing something different. Focusing on her staff, he tried to figure out a way to see beyond what had to be a magical illusion.

The staff was taller than Pandora by almost a head. His eyes must have gotten comically large because the others noticed. Marcus even started laughing at him as Pandora swatted at the ball of laughter slowly curling to the floor. She turned her gaze on him, concerned. “What’s wrong? What-”

“Why is your staff taller than you?” he blurted out, cutting her off before she could get going.

She stared at him so long he feared he wouldn’t get an answer. When tears welded up in her eyes, he grew concerned. As they spilled over and down her cheek, he nearly took back his words as she reached up to rub away the tracks.

She gave a watery chuckle. “I never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

Peter floundered and looked to Aiden, lost and confused. Marcus was no use. Peter didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him.

He took a step away from Aiden in shock.

The sense was gone but what he had believed to be a costume looked very real. Even Aiden’s face was a bit more wolfish, ears peaking through the nest of hair shaped far closer to wolf ears than human. The fur stood on end as Aiden bristled and Peter could see the other put up walls against an attack.

Peter wondered why Aiden expected so little out of him after all these years.

Had their first meeting not gone so well?

“How do you get away being half transformed like that in public?” he asked, his voice taking on a chastising tone without his consent. “Are people just that ignorant?”

“Yes,” Aiden said with so much conviction and surety that it made Peter laugh, He gave the other a smile. “Alright. Fair enough.”
He found himself steeling himself against what he would see when he turned to look at Marcus’s face. Whatever he had been expecting had been far worse than what he saw. Marcus’s face didn’t change like Aiden’s had, not structurally, at least. Instead, Marcus’s face now sported some new features; freckles that looked more like stars than actual freckles - he wasn’t even sure if he was seeing things or if they were actually twinkling at him - dusted the man’s nose and cheeks under eyes that had gone from a normal brown to such a complexity of yellows and reds that it was almost like he was looking into a sun. Marcus’s skin had also gained a sheen of color Peter couldn’t name.

He made a face. “Should I know what you are?”

Marcus gave a bark of a laugh and every hair on the back of Peter’s neck stood on end. There were far more sharp teeth in that mouth than he was comfortable with. “Not out of the water, no,” Marcus assured him.

He frowned. “Merfolk?”

Marcus grinned at him. “Of some variant, yes.”

Peter looked to the others, a sheepish smile on his face. “Is it kind of sad I was hoping for a vampire?”

Laughter filled the room and Peter found himself relaxing. Though this explained nothing, it was nice to have some of the truth. To think his friends were supernaturals was wild.

Which left the question…

“So what does that make me?” Peter voiced, looking around as the others grew somber. “Am I just the human tag-along?”

The group shared a look and, had they done so earlier, he would have thought they were keeping things from him. But now that he could ‘see’, it was easy to tell that it wasn’t that.

“Well, you are the most human out of all of us,” Aiden confirmed.

“But that’s not why we stayed around,” Pandora assured him. She moved her staff in her conviction. At the top, the wood thinned, branching off into three stick branches that curled at their ends to create a sort of alcove. The vine that wound its way up the staff created a loose weave around the branches turning the alcove into a loosely confined space. In that space was a stone or crystal or a combination of the two that shifted about reflecting light even as it glowed. It shifted against the motion of the staff even as it remained perfectly centered in the enclosure. “You are, uh…”

Her words died as she flicked her gaze to Aiden. The man supplied, hopefully far more crass than he had intended, “You’re a psychic. A Seer. You are able to See things we can’t, understand things before we even get a glimpse there’s something to understand.”

“I can see the future?” he asked, bewildered.

Pandora stepped forward, clasping both hands around her staff and leaning on it. “From what you had told us, it wasn’t that straightforward. It was more you saw the consequences, the most likely thing to happen, and sometimes you saw things that shouldn’t happen. You never really spoke of it as 'seeing’ so much as it being a feeling.”

“I came into the picture farther down the road after you guys had been on some wild adventures,” Marcus interjected, his weight shifting backwards into a nonchalant stance. “This meant you had time to come into whatever it was that had these guys rather hesitant to introduce us. And a chance to figure out how you explain what you do to others.”

There was a pause as Marcus’s gaze moved away in thought. It settled on the stone in Pandora’s staff. She didn’t seem to care. “Pandora and Aiden were arguing in the kitchen over something and you were just standing awkwardly in the entryway even after being encouraged to enter the house proper. So, to break the ice, I asked you what made you so special?”

“So what makes you so special?”

Peter’s gaze snapped to the other in the room. It was easy to see beyond the man’s illusion, to see the signs of the merfolk on the human like face, but he let himself see beyond it only briefly. He didn’t want to be caught off guard again. “I’m just their human companion,” he tried.

Marcus laughed. “Oh please. Aiden toting around a normal human? Not a chance.” There was a flash of a mouth full of very sharp teeth. “So what makes you so special?”

He knew what Aiden and Pandora were arguing about, could feel the conflict in them both on whether to tell this merfolk anything. But he knew too well how much of an asset this particular merfolk was going to be, regardless how infuriated his friends were going to be.

“I can See.”

Marcus gave him a flat look. “No shit. So can I.”

He chuckled. “No. I’m a Seer. I see things others don’t.”

Marcus frowned. “Like a fortune teller?”

Peter tipped his head to the side. “More like knowing things about the present I shouldn’t be able to.” He gestured at the apple abandoned on the coffee table in among a mess of things. “I would be able to tell you if you received a poisoned apple in a bushel given to you or what consequences awaited you should they be dire enough. I would be able to tell how powerful death tolls for you and, if it’s close enough, how you will die and if it can be negated. I’m able to See beyond magic, beyond our perception of the world into something new. But it isn’t necessarily through sight that I See. Many times it’s through a sense of knowing than actual images.”

“So you’re a psychic?”

Peter chuckled at Marcus’s lack of understanding. The man would come to understand in time. Far sooner than any of them would have liked if his Sight was to be believed. “I guess in a way I am a psychic.”
“It was shortly after our conversation that you nearly got me killed.” The words seemed teasing as Marcus smiled at him. “Or, as you put it, saved my life. I’m still not convinced you weren’t toeing that very thin line to make me see what you did, to make me understand.”

Peter shook his head, frowning. “I would never force anyone into something they don’t want.”

Marcus chuckled. “You said the same thing when I yelled at you for it.” Something in Marcus’s expression eased. “But even with that mentality in the beginning you knew how to get us to go with what you See even with our stubbornness.” Marcus’s gaze flickered to Aiden. “I don’t know what transpired just before the spell was placed on you, but I do know that you had changed. I wasn’t around you long enough to know the details but you certainly had no hesitation in doings things not so kind from time to time.”

Peter shuddered, glancing to Aiden and Pandora. Aiden had a hard look on his face while Pandora didn’t even seem to be conscious of the conversation anymore, her gaze locked on some spot on the floor. He focused on Aiden. “Tell me I didn’t become some horrible person.”

Aiden started as if he had been just as checked out as Pandora was. He shook his head, taking a step forward as he open his arms towards Peter. “Not a chance. You were a bit more crass and certainly didn’t shy away from having to force people to stop, but you never hurt anyone without trying every other option available. You just…” he glanced at Pandora. “You became numb to it all.”

“The nightmares didn’t help.” Pandora looked up to meet his gaze before continuing, “You never slept well even when we had first met but you had always passed it off to intense dreams, things that you didn’t categorize as nightmares.” A heaviness settled over the room as she dropped her gaze. Something dark crossed over her features. “That is, up till a month before I put the spell on you. You didn’t always wake up screaming or crying but you always had a nightmare.” The look she gave him was so complex, he wasn’t even sure he could interpret anything from it. “The worst ones were the ones you woke up from and stayed in a catatonic state till Aiden or I stirred you. You never responded to anyone else.”

Peter frowned. “Catatonic?”

“You would wake up without making a sound hours before either of us woke,” Aiden supplied, taking a step forward. “We would find you staring off into some distance, sometimes nose to nose with a wall.”

Peter ran both hands through his hair bewildered. Too much seemed to come crashing down in his mind that he couldn’t make sense of what was his Sight and what was meant to be memory. There were no images in any of it to help him figure it out. He dropped his hands, looking between the others. “Did I ever say what the dreams were about?”

Pandora shook her head. “Only that they were from what you Saw.” Her head tipped down till she was looking up at him from under the brim of the hat. “The spell hadn’t been planned when I cast it. We were waiting for something but you never told us what. Then, one morning after I woke you from a catatonic state, you grabbed my arms and begged me to cast it. You wouldn’t explain anything. You just kept saying there was no time, no time to explain any of it. That we just had to trust you on this.”

“So you cast it.”

She shook her head vehemently, stepping forward as her arm slashed through the air. “I had no choice! You were begging me to, saying you couldn’t take the nightmares anymore! What was I supposed to do? Let you suffer?!”

Peter took a step back, his tongue feeling fat from too many words he wanted to say. “That’s not what I had meant, Pan.” He brought his hands out to his side. “If what you guys have said has been true, I was probably manipulating you for whatever reason. For whatever reason, the spell had to be cast at that point in desperation so that whatever I had or hadn’t Seen would occur.” As much as he felt that as true, logic made him bite his tongue. “Though, without my memories, it’s just mere speculation at this point.”

Aiden shifted his weight. “Could that have affected the spell?”

Pandora rolled her eyes. “Of course it could have.” She gestured at Peter. “Clearly it did.” Peter watched as she paused, eyes closing as her chest expanded in a slow breath. She released it slowly. When she opened her eyes, they were clear and her entire being seeming far calmer than she had been previously. “Spells are affected by everything. That’s why the more powerful ones are more ritualistic than the simpler ones.” Her gaze flickered to Peter. “While the spell wasn’t overly complex, I didn’t know much of how anything affected it. It could have been influenced by the time of day, the lunar stage, star placement, even the tides could have added some sort of interference.”

“Do you remember when you had cast it? What time of day?” Marcus interjected, startling Peter. He had forgotten the man was there, not that he was sure how he had forgotten. The man wasn’t subtle in any sense of the word.

“Who was it that had said ‘Let’s clock some midnight’?” Aiden asked, hand on his chin.

“'It’s close to midnight’.” Peter looked to Pandora. She was staring at the stone gem in her staff as it turned and rolled. “I was exhausted after casting the spell in high stress. Peter was unconscious again with his head on my lap. You were making sure we were both taken care of, if I remember correctly.”
She dropped her gaze, blinking a few times before looking up at them. “I had mentioned it was close to midnight because the new day was about to start. It never crossed my mind that it would have had any affect on the spell at the time. In fact, I would have thought it would have made it stronger if nothing else.”

“How long has the spell been active? Could that have caused something?” Marcus interjected. “As mythical as my kind can be, the only magic we ever deal with is lunar and tidal and even then it’s nothing more than stage magic.”

Pandora looked to Aiden. “Do you remember? Too many of those days have blended since then.”

Aiden frowned. “Couldn’t be more than a year.” His face twisted up into a show of concentration and frustration. “No, I remember it being cold that night, the threat of snow on the wind.”

Pandora gained an incredulous look. “There’s no way it’s been a year.”

Peter actually found something to note with that. “I don’t know how much of my memory is reliable, but what of my memory is certain starts back after last year’s Halloween.”

Aiden buried a hand in his hair as he let out a sharp breath. “Seriously? It’s been a whole year?”

Pandora shook her head but the unease written on her face countered her statement. “It can’t have been that long.” Her sharp gaze came up and worry edged it. “Even if it has been, there is no way time has affected the spell. It’s got to be something else.”

“What about the day itself?” Peter asked, his gaze on the themed salt and pepper shaker on the counter across from him. He looked up and sought out Pandora’s gaze. “Is it possible it got tied to the veil between worlds thinning?”

She started to shake her head but stopped. There was conflict in her expression. “I…I want to say that I wouldn’t have done something so stupid but it would make sense if I had forgotten the structure of the spell. I wouldn’t have thought of the consequences if I thought having a year to finish it was enough.” Her gaze met his, something burning there he didn’t understand. “What I don’t understand is why I can’t remember more than that brief moment in the aftermath of the spell. Why can’t I remember anything else around it?”

“Does it matter?” Marcus interjected. “Right now, there are things coming after you guys and the spell has not removed itself enough for Peter to be of any use. So either figure out how to remove the spell or come up with a plan that can work around it.”

Pandora looked to Aiden. “Could we do that?”

Aiden huffed. “There’s only so much planning we can do. I still don’t know what we’re up against and it sounds like you’ve gained no more insight yourself since that night.”

She shook her head. “None.” She turned her attention to Peter even as an image started to swirl at the edge of his mind. “Can you See what’s after us?”

He started to say no but Aiden quickly said, “We don’t care if your Sight is accurate or not right now. Anything we have to work with - even if you’re making it up - would be something.”

“You can’t honestly believe that me just guessing at it would be anywhere close to accurate,” he challenged even as the image stilled.

Aiden’s eyes narrowed. “Peter. What do you See?”

He ducked his head at that. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Nothing like that.”

Pandora’s touch was barely there on his arm. “Come on, Pete. Your instinct is usually right.”

The image got stronger. He tried denying them a folly. “I don’t want to risk causing more damage than good.”

“Keeping this kind of thing from them will do that, Pete,” Marcus imputed, turning away from the small group to tend to things in the oven and on the stove. “Chat away. I’ve got a few things I’ve got to keep an eye on before spooky time.”

“Spooky time?” Pandora teased despite the tension clinging to her body. “Really?”

Marcus grinned at her and the image seemed to scream at him. Aiden’s hand was heavy when it landed on his shoulder. “What do you See, Peter?”

Peter let out a sharp sigh as he gave in, running a hand through his hair. “Not much, honestly. Mostly dark figures that are there but they’re not. They are ignored or invisible but still very much there.” He half threw his hands up taking a step back. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Do you feel any magic?” Pandora asked.

He looked at her like she had grown a second head. “What? No,” he immediately responded. He found himself having to amend that. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’s weird.” He screwed up his face. “They’re weird.”

Aiden’s hand tightened on his shoulder and he shoved it off, pointing a finger at the man. He knew what Aiden was intending, knew what the man wanted and would say. “No,” he snapped. “You have far more experience in my Sight than I do and you know that I cannot always describe what I See. It just is. It is just weird.” He gestured broad. “They’re just weird. If I had the knowledge of before the spell, maybe I could explain what was weird about them but I have no context - nothing to base my impression on - and asking me to elaborate is going to get us nowhere.”

“Can you at least tell if they have magic?” Pandora tried again. He gave her a flat look and she gave him a pleading look. “Please, Peter. We need to know if they’re going to be a magical threat or not.”

He tore his gaze away as he clenched his jaw. He wanted to berate her, to deny her, but the answer was slipping out without his consent.
“They’re of magic,” he told her, bitter as the words left him without his say. It didn’t help the words didn’t quite fit. “That’s the best way I can word it.”

“Of magic?” Aiden questioned and Peter almost chewed him out. The only thing that stilled his tongue was the fact that the other was looking at Pandora and not him. “So we’ll have to worry about magic being a factor in their search, then?”

The wording rang wrong in his ears but he had nothing to supplement or correct it with.

“That was always something we had to keep as a factor,” Pandora reminded him. “There are only so many ways one can track someone. And if they are targeting Peter because of his Sight, then that means they have a way of tracking and the only way I can think of is through magic.”

Peter didn’t like the sound of that. “Am I that easy to track, then?”

Pandora’s gaze drifted in his direction but she didn’t turn to face him. “In a sense. Seers are not overly common.”

“Rather rare, in fact,” Aiden added cheekily. The man’s weight shifted as he continued, “Scent wise, you’ve got a unique scent like any other thing on the planet but nothing that stands out. I couldn’t say anything for the magical part of things.”

Pandora shook her head. “He feels human to me.” She focused on him again. “If there is something they are picking up on, we’re still not sure what it is. I’m not the greatest at sensing through magic but I’ve worked hard to be above average at minimum and I have yet to figure out why they are being drawn to in you.”

Peter sighed. This was not how he had ever imagined he would spend a Halloween. Not only was he friends with two magical beings, he was some sort of special token that was drawing danger in like a lamp did moths. But a part of him didn’t feel the need to fear as the others did and he wondered if that was due to his lack of memory or something else.

“Then what do we do?” he asked. He met both their gazes. “What did we do before I was spelled?”

“Kept moving,” Pandora supplied. “We had some goals but you kept us moving.”

“Me? Why?”

Pandora shrugged. “You never really explained it.” Confusion edged her expression before she looked to Aiden. “Had he ever explained it?”

Aiden had the same look on his face as the man slowly shook his head. “Not that I can recall. I just remember we kept moving,” his gaze focused on Peter, “that you had an urgency about you that had us moving. If you had explained it, I don’t remember what it had been.”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t even understand the situation enough to even have a glimpse at that urgency so whatever we’re doing, I’m all for us doing it now.”

Aiden looked to Pandora. “We had been looking for something before we had to stop. What was it?”

“A book, I think.” She pulled out the tomb from the bag on her hip. “If we’re lucky, I’d written it down.”

He watched her bring the book to just beneath chest height and let it hover there as it fell open. A number of pages flipped over without her touch, settling on a page. Her hand flew to the words scrawled there so he assumed it was the page she needed. “Did you write down our journey, then?”

“Only certain things from time to time.” She turned the page and kept skimming. “I’m not a good record keeper but I did try and write down the important things.” Her hand stopped and her gaze flicked upwards at them, a smile on her face. “And it would seem our last hunt was important enough for me to write down. Look at this.”

Peter and Aiden stepped closer, closing her in on either side. Peter dropped his gaze to the book only to find he couldn’t read the runes she had written in. They made his brain itch with familiarity but he couldn’t decipher any of it. He fought off the disappointment.

She traced her finger under the words as she read, “Finally something to go after. We’ve been told about some book that’ll answer all our questions. The downside of it all is that it was with a more traditional Mage-” Pandora scoffed. “Old coots always talk in riddles.”

“I don’t remember this, Pandora,” Aiden voiced, his words gruff and almost sounding threatening to Peter’s ears.

She gave him a flat look. “And you think I do? I had to look it up.” She turned back to the book, continuing, “A more traditional Mage that left us more riddles than answers. Supposedly this book is stowed in some wayward town of Little Hagshire and we’re supposed to find the true house on the hill, whatever that means.” She made a face at that. “Have to agree. I have no idea what that means, nor where this Hashire might be.”

“Sounds European,” Marcus quipped. Pandora threw something at him but Peter didn’t give much thought to what she had thrown.

“He does have a point,” Peter spoke up. Marcus sent him a grin but he ignored it in hopes of not encouraging the other. “It’s not like this whole thing’s been a walk in the park.”

Pandora said something rather snide and sharp, and he knew he deserved to bear the words she had just thrown at him, but he was suddenly drowning from the image of a book old and worn resting on top of a pile in the back of a dingy, cluttered room, before being thrown backwards, revealing the building and its home.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he sucked in air, hope suddenly choking him as much as the image itself had. “Did I just see that?”
“Peter?”

His gaze snapped to Pandora and he pushed off the counter, his hand reaching out for her. He grabbed at her arm. There was a buzzing under his skin that made him want to cry. “Pan. Pan, I think…I think I saw it. The book. I think I saw the book in a house on the hill.”

“What?” she breathed. “Are you sure?”

“Does it matter?” Aiden cut in. “He Saw something that has him shaking like a leaf.” Aiden’s attention turned to him but Peter couldn’t pull his gaze from Pandora. “We’re going after whatever you saw and going from there. If it’s the book we need, great. If not, it’s at least something to do.”

Peter sagged, relief heady. He couldn’t stop yet. “It wasn’t Europe.” There was silence but he didn’t care. “They-the cars had licence plates. Plates from…” He knew he had seen them clear enough. He wasn’t about to let it go yet. It tumbled from his tongue. “Pennsylvania.” His brought his gaze up. “They had been Pennsylvania plates.”

“Oh good.” Peter looked to Aiden. The man had his arms crossed but his expression was pleasant enough. Aiden explained, “There’s a pack in Pennsylvania I’m in good standing with. You as well, though it’s going to be hard to explain the memory loss.” He looked to Pandora. “This was before you tagged along.”

Pandora closed her tomb. “I gathered as much, though I too know people there. A clan and a coven of all things. It’ll be nice to reinstate contact if both are still in good shape. You may actually like both of them, Aiden.”

He dipped his head. “I’ll give them both a chance at your discretion.”

“Good.” Pandora shifted about, asking Marcus, “Mind if we use your backyard? I don’t want to end up marking your living room with the transportation spell.”

“Wait, we’re leaving now?” Peter squawked.

Pandora looked at him. He wasn’t sure what to make of her expression; or lack there of in this case. “I trust the coven, if nothing else, and I know the waypoint they use for magic travel. It’ll be discrete and we’ll be welcomed warmly enough. Besides, we don’t have time to waste getting a plane ticket and flying there. That’d take too long.”

Aiden guided Peter after Pandora with a large hand just below his shoulder blades. “Do I have to remind you that I have no recollection of ever doing magical travel before?”

He pressed against Aiden’s touch, delaying his exit of the kitchen enough to shoot off, “Bye Marcus. Thank you and have a great night!”

The merfolk grinned at him, waving a sauce covered utensil while calling back, “Have fun you guys! See you soon.”

The patio door thudded shut as Aiden used a bit more force than was strictly necessary in Peter’s opinion.

Pandora commented, “You had no issue traveling by it before. I doubt enough’s changed in the last year for you to dislike it now.”

“She isn’t wrong,” Aiden piped in. “I have a natural aversion to any travel that isn’t my own feet if I’ve shifted recently but I’ve never had it when it came to Pandora toting us around.” Aiden’s expression darkened. “Though, I would have preferred a method that didn’t wear you out.”

Pandora waved him off as she stepped into the middle of the yard. “Oh please. I’ll be just fine.”

There was a sudden burst of light and Peter recoiled into Aiden’s hand in shock. It was like the dust particles around them had become mini suns, giving off their own light and drifting about aimlessly as Pandora made a motion with her arm. Her tomb came out of its bag on its own, the pages fluttering to settle on a specific section. He watched in awe as runes started to glow on the page as she started speaking in a language that echoed strangely in his ears.

The glowing particles in the air started to move with a purpose as a sigil made of light started writing itself into the earth beneath the grass. It was incredible to watch as the magic in the air condensed and streams of it bent this way and that around them.

He now understood why Aiden was concerned for Pandora. Despite its beauty, he could See how much magic this required, how much she had to pour into it, and he knew that if she was without her tomb and staff, this would cost a much steeper price. He shuddered to think it costing her life.

Something told him the leap would have to be greater than this to take her life from her completely.

To what capacity counted as “greater than this” he didn’t care to dwell on.

He felt the spell finish at the same time the magic vanished. The world around them had changed and he hadn’t even noticed.

It looked like they were standing in a cathedral of all places and he suddenly felt very inappropriately dressed. At least his pumpkin head was sitting back on Marcus’s couch. His hands quickly pressed against his pockets. He had his phone and wallet but no keys. Hopefully those were on the pumpkin head he had left on Marcus’s couch, then.

“Marcus will be nice to my car, right?” he voiced to no one in particular.

“If he isn’t, I’ll punch him for you,” Aiden supplied, hands going out to wrap gently around Pandora’s arms. The tomb fell heavily into her hands still open wide but nothing was glowing and her face held a tired smile.

“I’m fine, Aiden,” she assured him. She tucked the book away before looking at them both. “Let’s go greet our hosts before they decide we’re unwanted guests.”

“You already are, Pandora Kind.”

The trio turned to find a group of people standing in a line across the front of the church, a single person standing before the line. Peter felt his stomach drop at the sight.
Pandora turned, sweeping her hat from her head in the fluid motion of a deep bow. The hat pressed over her cloak on the same side as her tomb. “Lord Ezekiel.”

Aiden chuckled not so quietly. The person standing before the line snapped their gaze to the man. “Something funny, mutt?” the person demanded, confirming they had been the one to speak.

Aiden grinned and it held a promise that made Peter’s hair stand on end. “You will have to forgive my blasphemy, rat. The irony in your name is hard not to laugh at.”

Lord Ezekiel narrowed his eyes and Peter moved, thoughts flooding his mind even as he worked to deny them. His hand covered Aiden’s eyes as he kept his gaze on the man opposite them. That gaze moved from Aiden to Peter just as quickly and Peter froze, refusing to drop the gaze of a vampire.

Lord Ezekiel frowned. “What are you doing?”

Peter found himself smiling as he responded calmly, “To be honest, my Lord, I cannot say. Part of our haste to get here is on par with my lack of understanding even my own actions now; I belief Pandora was just about to explain had our companion not interrupted.”

Pandora finally straightened at that, though she kept her hat from her head. “I apologize for the intrusion, Lord Ezekiel,” she tried again, her hands worrying the brim of her hat. “I knew of no better way to get to this area quickly without using the waypoint.”

“Surely the clan has a waypoint claimed for their own?” Lord Ezekiel drawled without removing his gaze from Peter.

“If they do, they have yet to share it with me as the coven has.” She took a step forward, her knuckles turning white as the brim of her hat crinkled. “Please. It’s All Hallows’ Eve. The veil is thinning and there are dangers we are trying to…” She hesitated and Peter sucked in a breath. “…evade. The faster we reach our destination, the sooner we no longer grace your doorstep.”

Lord Ezekiel’s expression didn’t lose its hard edge but he did sigh as he finally looked at Pandora. “Fine. You will meet with me before you leave so that I may decide whether it is worth putting forth the effort to help you.” The others relaxed, Aiden going so far as to remove Peter’s hand from his face, but Peter could feel the other words waiting to be said. “But only after the next hour is out,” Lord Ezekiel amended sharply. A soft edge curbed his expression. “During the time till our meeting, I expect you to rest, Pandora Kind.” The vampire’s gaze was on Peter again. “For now, you will keep the dog with you while I speak with your other companion. I wish to speak with him privately.”

His friends both made to surge forward but Peter was faster and stepped forward, away and out of reach of his friends. He pivoted, smiling sweetly at them as he encouraged, “It’s alright. I’ll see you guys in an hour. We’ve got time and you do look like you need a good nap, Pan.”

Aiden looked about ready to stomp over to him and drag him with by his hair as Pandora sagged against the inevitable. She nodded, her tired gaze settling on him once more. “Be careful, Pete. No flying on a broom.”

“Is that like flying by the seat of my pants?” he wondered out loud, still grinning. She gave him a look despite it being a true inquiry masked by a quip and he laughed. “I will,” he assured her, the words far heavier than he had intended. He turned. It was nigh impossible to not jump when he found Lord Ezekiel within arms reach. Aiden’s growl only made the hairs on the back of his neck stand taller. Right, vampire. Quelling his sudden adrenaline rush as best he could, he gave the Lord a soft smile. “Shall I follow you, my Lord?”

Peter found that sentence odd on his ears and tongue, and by Lord Ezekiel’s arched eyebrow, the other thought similar. Without a word, the Lord turned and started walking towards where the line of people had been. Peter found it easy to match the other’s even strides step for step.

The silence of the building was only broken by their shoes against the stone floor till they were so isolated, Peter wondered if he was either going to be killed or if he was going to die from starvation before he found his way back.

He jumped when an arm appeared in front of him out of nowhere. It took a moment too long for his brain to register it belonged to his dangerous companion, of who was watching him with an expression he didn’t understand.

“Are you alright?” Lord Ezekiel asked, his voice far warmer and softer than it had been upon their first meeting.

He offered the other a soft smile, dipping his head. “Of course, my Lord. Simply too lost in thought to pay much attention to what is going on.”

Lord Ezekiel’s expression darkened but Peter couldn’t figure out why as the other pulled open the door to a rather impressive office. Peter entered as soon as he was permitted to, though another odd look seemed to cross the Lord’s face when the man gestured for him to enter.

The walls were obscured by floor to ceiling bookshelves full to the brim with books. A few shelves held trinkets and objects but these were squished between bookshelf and books more times than not. The only wall not completely obscured was the far wall where floor to ceiling windows opened onto a balcony and he gaped at the view of a city light filled night landscape. Lanterns on the balcony’s banister softly illuminated the small outdoor space without obscuring the view beyond.

“Do you see this every night?” he asked, transfixed with a hand on the cool glass.
“Most, yes,” the man offered tentatively. “Do you not have a similar view back home? Certainly a city nightscape is nothing new for you.”

“Well, no,” he confirmed before turning to face the man. “But it’s nothing quite so picturesque. I live in the heart of the city so I don’t get to see the night like this often.”

He found it hard not to look back out as he spoke. A sort of melancholy settled over him but it was weird and complex in a way that made it hard for him to focus upon. So, instead, he focused on the thoughts drifting through his head and he soon found himself speaking again.

“When I was, I don’t know, 6? There was this kid that had convinced most of the other kids that he had lucky candy and if they gave him a quarter, he would bestow this lucky candy upon them, though probably not quite so eloquently.” He gave into the temptation to press his forehead against the cool glass, letting it sooth whatever had become frayed. “I wasn’t ever really part of any group of kids so I hadn’t been included in this amazing thing. But I knew that it was a scam, that the candy was nothing more than a baggie filled with Skittles and M&Ms. And I had said so, has said it over the noise of the group.”

He stepped away from the window, looking to Lord Ezekiel. He didn’t care to try and decipher the rather emotionless mask. He knew he could figure something out but there was no need. “That was probably not the first time I had demonstrated my gift of Sight, Lord Ezekiel, and, for some reason, I can’t remember anything pertaining to Seeing or the supernatural. I am trapped in a spell that has robbed me of my memories in order to delay the inevitable and now my friends are on a wild goose chase after some book that may not even be the right book.”

There was a pregnant pause. Peter wasn’t sure he knew how to interrupt it.

“So what do you want from me?” Lord Ezekiel asked.

Peter shrugged. “The opportunity for Pandora to say her piece? To offer what aid you had been willing to offer in the beginning?” He gave a humorless chuckle as he looked back out the window. “As much as I wish I could say I came at this conversation with a plan, I cannot. For me, this is simply another bizarre hour in a very bizarre evening.”

The sound of fabric shifting came from behind him and despite its sudden appearance, it did not frighten him like he had expected. He turned, finding Lord Ezekiel standing once more within arm’s reach. He met the other’s gaze without hesitation. “Please, my Lord. I have no more idea of what is coming after me as you do and the only clue I have is a half realized Sight.”

Another pause but this one was nowhere near as heavy as the last.

“I may actually know something.”

Peter stared after Lord Ezekiel as the man crossed to one of the bookcases. “You do?” he nearly squawked.

“If what you say is true, then you have no recollection of our….” Peter found himself uncomfortable with the break in Lord Ezekiel’s words. “…interactions over the years. You met young Pandora Kind through me, though it had never been my intent for such a thing to occur. She had been here while you visited and after shared introductions, you two were quite the pals.”

Lord Ezekiel stepped away from the bookcase, an old hand-bound book in hand. He offered it to Peter. “This is a collection of information you had chosen to share with me.” Peter undid the tie and let the book fall open in his hand. “The information you are looking for should be more towards the back of the book, should it be a newer topic.”

Peter stared at the pages displayed before him.

His own handwriting stared back up at him.

“This…” The words died on the back of his tongue and he swallowed thickly before trying again. “This is my handwriting.” He wasn’t sure what kind of response he had been looking for but silence had not been it. He brought his gaze up half expecting to find Lord Ezekiel had ditched him. To his surprised, Lord Ezekiel was still standing in the same spot he had last seen the other, though the man’s gaze was anywhere but on him. “Lord Ezekiel.” It took a moment for the man to finally look at him. The resignation that was there twisted Peter’s insides. “What is this?”

“It is as I had said it was,” the man cryptically replied. Thankfully, for Peter’s sake, the man explained, “It is a collection of notes you chose to leave in my care on what you discovered of the supernatural world. Though I doubt that is enough to explain the complexity of the book in your hands.”

Peter looked back down at the pages still staring up at him. There were things here he did not understand and flipping through the book gave him nothing to grasp upon. As much as it was his handwriting, he recognized none of it. The words started becoming difficult to read and he didn’t even realize he was having a hard time breathing till Lord Ezekiel startled him by gently grabbing his arms, effectively bringing his attention to the fact that he was crying.

One of Lord Ezekiel’s hands was suddenly on his cheek, thumb wiping away escaping tears. He flinched from the initial contact, startled, but found the gesture oddly comforting even as confusion ate at him. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head without dislodging the other’s touch. The confusion was quickly building into anxiety as he started drowning under the desperation to accept the offered comfort by this complete stranger. “I don’t know. But I can’t stop crying.”
The hand on his face was in his hair at the same time the book vanished from his hands. He felt it press against his back as his face collided with something firm and he found himself being held by Lord Ezekiel.

His initial reaction was to shove at the man, to get away from this dangerous stranger that was behaving in a way that should not be allowed, but there was no fight left in him when the first breath he took in this position filled his senses with Lord Ezekiel’s scent. He didn’t understand why it made him so weak, why it made him cry harder, and he didn’t want to know.

Something in him told him that if he knew, there would be things he would have to live with that - right now - he would not be able to stand strong under. So, instead, he grabbed at the fabric on the other’s chest and held on as the sobbing rid him of any thoughts for a blissful moment even in the height of the confusing blend of emotions.

He didn’t know how long he had been standing there crying but now he was too tired to even care. A numbness had settled over him. It left him with nothing and he was quite content with that. Though he did find himself faintly marveling at the fact that Lord Ezekiel was still supporting him. He was certain his entire weight was on the vampire at this point.

He finally registered the soft touches in his hair, too; Lord Ezekiel’s hand was carding through his unruly hair in such a soothing manner.

“Do you want to lay down?” the man asked, voice soft, hesitant almost, as it washed over his ears. From the sound of it, Lord Ezekiel’s face must be near the top of his head. The warm breath on his scalp was a rather obvious giveaway now that he thought about it.

He found his numb state being interrupted by the question. Without his say, reality came back and he shook his head, pulling away from Lord Ezekiel as he forced his legs to take his weight. “No. There…my friends and I have things we must do. I cannot allow myself to delay them anymore than we have already been delayed by taking a nap.” He looked up at the other’s face, trying to offer the man a soft smile. It didn’t feel right but he hoped it looked fine regardless. “Though I do appreciate your intent, my Lord. I have had very few show such gestures of kindness when I…”

The words stalled out. He wasn’t even sure he knew where he had intended for those words to go but it didn’t seem to matter for Lord Ezekiel’s frown had deepened. “You truly do not remember anything, do you?”

A watery chuckle bubbled up from his chest without his consent and he fought back the new waves of tears as he shook his head no. There was something there on the edge that he could not grasp - or did not want to grasp - that terrified him and filled him with so much sorrow just by simply recognizing it. Lord Ezekiel either somehow knew what was going through his head or simply acted out of a kindness in his heart because the man had wrapped him in a hug again, the book no longer in the man’s hand. Distractedly, he wondered where the book had gone.

He could feel the words Lord Ezekiel wanted to share, could almost speak them for the man, but Lord Ezekiel never settled on anything to say and they simply stood there for another long moment as Peter grasped at the back of the man’s outfit, face buried in the man’s chest once more knowing it was futile to wish for it all to disappear.

“You are not alone in this,” Lord Ezekiel started to mutter. “You have companions that care dearly about you, that are doing their best to support you. You have so many allies waiting for you to reach out to them and all you have to do is See beyond the limits of whatever has your memory locked away. Nothing says you have to suffer alone and I would much rather you didn’t, if I had any say in it.”

He gave another watery chuckle. It lacked any real humor. “And why would you care to worry about a nobody like me, my Lord?”

Perhaps the other had finally realized how weird it was two strangers were clinging to each other while one was being irrationally emotional for Lord Ezekiel pulled away, leaving Peter’s hands to fall back to his sides. Lord Ezekiel proved him wrong when the man’s hands cradled his head, keeping his gaze on the man’s face. “Would you hate me if I showed you?”

“I could never hate you,” he responded, the words tumbling out almost before the other had finished asking. He wasn’t sure where the conviction came from but he truly believed he could never hate Lord Ezekiel.

Lord Ezekiel gave a humorless chuckle. “The beauty of the lie for which is offered me, taken as truth by the speaker at hand.”

The words rang oddly familiar but any thought he had been intending to give it was whisked away when Lord Ezekiel kissed him.

And it was no little peck; it was a full blown kiss on the mouth that set every nerve ending Peter had buzzing. He grabbed at the other and stilled, not sure if he intended to push him away or pull him closer as he was suddenly trapped between how wrong this was and how right it was. Every part of him was focused on the kiss, drowning in the soft touch of Lord Ezekiel’s hands on either side of his head and the man’s lips on his own.

Lord Ezekiel pulled away, gingerly pressing their foreheads together as Peter tried to calm his shuddering breath.
Peter found himself shaking, struggling to grasp at the strange, twisting familiarity that had been with the kiss, drowning his thoughts when the kiss wasn’t, when the other’s touch wasn’t. And it scared him that he didn’t know why.

Except for those strong hands in his hair, the other’s lips against his own, the strong body pinning him down, caresses and kisses. Soft words shared in moments of solidarity.

He choked on the sudden sob. His hand flew to his mouth as if it would stop the sudden onslaught of tears. A second sob choked him and he found he couldn’t fight the grief from washing over him.

Long nights filled with words, passing moments filled with love and care, all of it suddenly came crashing down on him and there was nothing he could do beyond waiting out the storm.

He wasn’t sure if it had lasted a few minutes or a few hours but when it finally came to an end, he felt like he had been sobbing for days. Ezekiel was holding him tight, shielding him against anything else that may want at him now.

“Peter?” Ezekiel coaxed, his voice soft, careful, even as it was choked with worry.

Peter had scared him, had suddenly broken down without a word and it churned bitterly in his chest. He shifted so that he could press his face into Ezekiel’s neck and ignore the horrible feeling of his tears trapped between their skin. “I’m so sorry, Ezekiel,” he muttered, words tumbling hard and fast past his lips while he still remembered. “I hadn’t-I don’t think it had been in my plan to cut you off like that, to suddenly vanish without a word. So much must have happened that I had forgotten to reach out to you, to keep you in the loop, and I’m so sorry.” He tried to fight the new wave of guilt. “I’m so sorry.”

Ezekiel’s arms tightened around him. There was a slight buzz to Ezekiel’s body and the words confirmed the sensation. “You remember? Just like that?”

He shook his head, refusing to remove his face from Ezekiel’s neck. “Too much has suddenly returned that I can’t-I can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake, what happened when. I’m so confused and drowning in all of it but I know - I see clearly what had been between us, what I had left unfinished and unsaid between us, and right now that’s all that matters.”

Ezekiel pulled away and Peter couldn’t help but feel like he deserved the hurt that came at the gesture. Clearly it wasn’t enough and he looked away, not wanting to see what the other was thinking. He knew that if he looked, he would be able to see the nuances in the other’s expression that was born out of years of close proximity.

It seemed Ezekiel was having none of that. The other cupped Peter’s cheek and gently guided his head about to meet the man’s steady gaze. He didn’t belief the relief and the love that he saw blended in with the rest of the emotions he could pick out.

“Seeing and remembering are two different things, my love,” Ezekiel offered softly. Peter flinched from the endearment. He didn’t deserve it but it seemed Ezekiel was going to drop it any time soon. “You knew that better than anyone I have ever known. My love, there is nothing to be ashamed of and if I have to wait till all of this has settled to even get the chance to help you through your confusion on the matter, what’s another few hours - or, the stars forbid, a few more years - when I have already waited this long?”

He grabbed at Ezekiel’s wrist as a lifeline as the guilt tried to drown him again. Tonight was just not his night, was it? “But you shouldn’t have to wait on a fool like me,” he tried, the words sounding desperate even to his own ears.“

Ezekiel pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. "You are and forever will be my fool even if you choose to leave my side. Much has happened to you since we last spoke and even more since the last we had shared the same space. My love, do not feel as if you owe me anything. All I ask is the chance to talk this out when all is said and done so that we can decide together what to do next.”

“Ok.”

The single word felt inadequate but it seemed to be enough for Ezekiel. The other kissed his hair before stepping away, offering in turn, “It is approaching the time for me to speak with Pandora Kind. We still have some time, should you wish to see if this book of yours draws anything more out of that spell. Or you are welcome to go speak to your companions about what has happened, especially since the caster of this spell is one of your companions.”

He found himself shaking his head. “I don’t want to tell them.” It was strange how adamant he was with that statement. He knew logically that it was wise to share what had just transpired but a much larger part of him wanted to keep such a private thing private. “Besides, she doesn’t know anything more than I do about the spell. Maybe I had at some point, maybe she had as well, but whatever that had been, I don’t know it now. And I don’t think she does either.”

Ezekiel picked up Peter’s book from the desk, offering it to him with a patient look. “As I had once promised, this remained here untouched and unopened. If it had not been of any significant threat, you may have written about the spell.” Peter looked at the bound pages, apprehension filling him. Ezekiel added, “And just as my opinion, I think it would be wise to at least share the aspect of your memories returning with them.”
Peter took a hold of the book but Ezekiel didn’t let it go. The man pulled on it gently, gaining Peter’s gaze again. The man’s hard expression softened. “Sometimes there are repercussions to spells failing. If nothing else, Pandora Kind and Aiden Evanworth need to be as prepared as possible.”

Peter’s shoulders sagged as he gave in. “Ok. I’ll tell them.”

The man’s expression gained a bit of its edge back. “Before I speak with Pandora Kind?”

Peter gave a breathy chuckle, an endearing smile on his face. “Immediately upon our reunion.”

Ezekiel let go of the book and Peter took its full weight. It wasn’t truly heavy but there was something about it that made it seem heavier than it was. With a steady hand, he opened the bound pages once more.

The first pages was oddly familiar now as he slowly started flipping through. At some point he had wandered to the desk and sat down because when someone tapped on the desk near the corner of the book, he started, his back connecting with the back of the desk chair. Pandora and Aiden were looking at him with odd expressions but his attention quickly moved to Ezekiel as the man set down a mug of steaming liquid. “It’s been about an hour. Pandora Kind and I have already had our discussion.”

“Shit,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair and grabbing for the mug. The warm liquid was edging on hot as he took a drink, enjoying the familiar taste. He let out a content sigh as he lowered the mug back to the table, half of the mug’s content gone. He gave the object an endearing smile, faint as it was. “It’s nice finally being able to taste such an elusive brew again. Do you still blend it yourself?”

Ezekiel hummed an affirmation. “As well as mix in the other ingredients. I still have yet to find anyone that can add the right amount of honey and milk.”

“Pity.” He paused halfway back to his book. “Have I managed a good run with it yet or does it still turn out a burnt, watery mess?”

“Last I remember, it wasn’t quite the worst you had done but it was close,” Ezekiel teased.

Peter chuckled, his gaze going back to the page he had been on, eyes flickering over passages that were growing more and more familiar the more he read.

“Peter?”

He blinked, his gaze coming up from the page as his hand slid to mark his spot. Oh, right. His friends. “Ah, sorry,” he offered with a sheepish grin. He stood up. “I guess I’m just getting caught up in my notes again.”

Pandora frowned at him. “So the spell has dispelled some more, then?”

Reality snapped back into place and immediately he became aware of the magic emanating from the writing on the bound pages. A sentence was slowly pulling itself off the page letter by letter to rise in slow snaking chains and at least one picture had long since pealed itself from the page to float a few inches above its original location. Words that could only be read through magic glowed on or hovered over sections, hits of a spell that protected bits of text from others’ sights as he read, all of it visible for him to see and understand.

He wondered if Pandora saw any of it or understood the significance. He certainly didn’t, not that he didn’t have a suspicion; he was already a solid chunk through the book and already there was far more for him to read than he thought a book that size could hold.

He pulled his hand away and immediately the magic vanished. All that was left was a ragged looking bound set of pages.

“I…” An apology was on his tongue but he didn’t understand it, let alone even know what it had been. So, he went with what he did know. “Yes. Quite a bit of it quite suddenly, actually.” Ezekiel shifted somewhere off to his left and he glanced at the man, continuing, “I’m still piecing most of what memories have returned at this point but it would seem diving into my notes wasn’t probably the wisest idea I’ve ever had.”

“Probably not,” Pandora offered him and he grew wary of her. She gestured to the book. “How much magic is poured into that thing?”

He shook his head, hands coming up in surrender. “I don’t have any clue. I didn’t even realize there was magic in it till you asked about the spell.”

“Did you cool the drink on purpose, then?” Aiden inquired, his gaze scrutinizing.

Peter gave him a bewildered look. “I did what now?”

“I don’t think he would have even noticed had he not lost his memory,” Ezekiel spoke in turn. Peter’s attention went to him but did not interrupt. “That particular action had become quite habitual to him even before we had met. It never occurred around those that did not know about his use of magic…” A sharp edge came to Ezekiel’s gaze as the words slowed briefly. “…though by your reaction I would say you were unaware of it.”

“Of him being able to perform magic? Yes,” Pandora stated hotly. “He’s never registered more than a human to me and he has certainly never performed such a spell around either of us.”

Ezekiel looked to Peter but Peter shook his head. “I can’t remember anything to even help the situation one way or the other. If I did what Aiden is accusing me of doing, I don’t remember even doing it. I can remember grabbing the mug and taking a drink but never performing any sort of magic.”

The doors to the study burst open and a lanky man with large glasses came bursting in disrupting everything. But the determined look on the man’s face immediately vanished and Peter wasn’t sure of if the man actually muttered, “Oh mummy!” or something else.
“Lord Ezekiel,” the man said, dismissing whatever muttering he had released. That strange wrong sense whispered at him from the back of his mind. “I apologize for intruding. We have guests at the door that are being rather adamant about seeing you and your company present. They spoke of each by name.”

“It is alright, Azar,” Ezekiel spoke, his hand falling upon Peter’s shoulder. “They are trustworthy.”

Azar’s hand flicked up to the large glasses, adjusting them. The strange wrong sense steadily grew louder as Peter took in the form before him: thin - lanky, even - with pale skin, pale hair, and pale blue eyes. There was nothing that spoke of strength in that form and Peter gave into the strange wrong sense’s urge to see beyond the magic.

The change was instantaneous. Azar went from a lanky, pale of a man to a creature just as lanky but very clearly powerful. Pale skin had turned the richest of blue hued blacks he had ever seen, hair appearing to be made of starlight. Azar’s eyes became similarly colored as his hair pupilless. Peter found himself in awe with what he saw.

“My Light?”

Peter jerked back to reality, finding his breath ragged in his chest and Ezekiel’s arms around him. Pandora and Aiden were standing between them and Azar but even with them in the way - with this strange creature’s pupilless eyes - he knew that Azar was speaking to him.

Azar took a step forward, a hand rising to reach for him, but Aiden took a step forward, growling. He was fluffier than he had been. Azar paid him no mind. “My Light, are you alright?”

“Why do you call me that?” Peter asked around his ragged breath.

Confusion flickered over the other’s face. “Are you not?”

Something pulled at him as Ezekiel shifted around him. He ignored that something as Ezekiel spoke. “Azar. It would seem that quite a lot has happened to our Light-” Peter recoiled from the term on Ezekiel’s tongue. “-since last we had seen him. If you would at least inform our guests that we will be present in a moment, it would be appreciated.”

Azar bowed deeply before slipping out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, everyone rounded on him.

“Are you ok?” Pandora asked as Aiden demanded, “What the hell was that?”

Ezekiel’s words were far calmer than his companions’. “How are you feeling?”

He focused on himself, finding he wanted to know the answer to Ezekiel’s question as well. But beyond his now calming breath, “I’m fine. Though I’m not sure what happened.”

That thing pulling at him started screaming. He tried to ignore it.

“Azar had released his illusion and had called you by ‘my light’,” Aiden offered. “Next thing we know you’re convulsing. I honestly thought Azar had harmed you.”

Peter shook his head. “Azar’s harmless. The Moon ones always are. It’s the Star ones you have to keep an eye on.”

“Star ones?” Pandora parroted.

Aiden gestured towards the door. “You know what he is, then?”

Peter stared between them, confused. “You don’t?” They gave him an identical bewildered look. “Azar’s a Ona. A, ah…” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not sure if I can explain what he is beyond that. There are generally two kinds, the M-Ona and S-Ona, though Azar tells me there are others. He won’t tell me what they are called though.”

“Generally the Ona and Seers don’t cross paths and for good reason,” Ezekiel explained. “Ona are able to enhance a Seer’s ability but there is no true control on how that affects the Seer. A Seer influenced by an Ona could see beyond their limits but at the cost of their own sanity. Some never recover from an Ona’s influence, Moon or Star. Moon Ona, or M-Ona, are not as volatile as their Star counters, meaning that their influence is far smaller and softer on a Seer.”

“So he collapsed because of Azar’s influence?” Pandora clarified.

He shook his head, cutting off anything Ezekiel was going to say. “No. I was unable to feel his influence. Azar’s good at making sure to keep a distance unless absolutely necessary or I say to.”

“Then what sent you into a fit?” Aiden all but demanded.

The hold he had over the thing screaming at him broke and the Sight rushed him. He fought to keep his appearance unaffected. “Those asking for us aren’t bringing good news and for whatever reason, my Sight was refusing to let me go into this meeting blind.”

The other two gave a start but Ezekiel only moved closer, asking softly, “Anything you can disclose?”

He pushed himself to his feet. “They’ll be able to explain it better.” He looked down at Ezekiel still kneeling where he had left him. “I’m not sure I could put it to words as eloquently as they can.”

For the second time, the door to the study slammed open. Peter looked towards the crowd storming in, not surprised to see Azar tailing the lead.

“Madam, please,” the Ona was urging. “They will see you when they are ready.”

Ezekiel rose to his feet as the lead snapped, “We do not have time to wait on their whim.”

“Madam Van,” Ezekiel spoke evenly. “I am surprised to see you within my coven’s walls.”

“Enough of the formalities, Eza, there’s no time for it,” she spoke heavily. “I’m calling on the Summons. Fourteen and Seventeen were taken out not even an hour ago, Two, Sixteen, Five, and Nine within the hour prior to that. I’ve received confirmation from Twenty-six and Twenty-seven that the Shadows are on the move again.”

Ezekiel tensed at that and Peter noticed that Pandora and Aiden were behaving in a similar manner. Did they understand any of this because he was lost when the woman started spewing numbers. At least he had Seen enough to know what they were intending. “This is hell, then,” he said carefully.
All eyes were on him in an instant. He tried to ignore the fear that surged through him. Must not have worked. Ezekiel’s hand closed around his and his friends took steps closer. He didn’t break his gaze away from Madam Van, at least. “I….am not as well into the know as I probably ought to be but I Saw enough to understand what you intended to get across; that hell is breaking down the door and the only thing we have is a toothpick and a sock.”

Someone laughed in the back but it was quickly choked silent. He wasn’t able to see who had laughed. He wish he knew. He liked them. He offered all those around him a soft smile. “The Shadows, the things that Maria warned me about, you think that they are responsible for the disappearances.”

“We don’t just think they-” some dude started but Madam Van raised her hand. Her gaze was hard, her expression equally so, but her voice held a kindness to it her expression did not translate.

“There is some evidence leading to us believing they are at least involved. But, no. I do not think they are the sole cause for my people’s disappearances.”

“Madam,” the same dude started but her hard gaze was a glare when it landed on him.

“Enough. Of the years I’ve served, this is the first time the Shadows have ever hinted at posing a threat to anyone.” Her gaze returned to him, lacking the heat she had sent the other. “I do not think the Shadows have the capacity to harm but some of my people claim to have witnessed shadow like creatures taking the specified personnel out. However, that was the extent of the description I received and no one could offer me a better description than that.”

Ezekiel took a step forward, a frown on his face. “Because they couldn’t see it well enough, hadn’t seen it well enough, or something else?”

Madam Van met his gaze. “A small few hadn’t seen it well enough, one couldn’t see it weil enough, and the rest seemed to simply have a block against being able to describe it any more than that.”

“PTSD?”

Madam Van shook her head. “If it is, it’s got a magical twist to it. Some of the healers found traces of nasty magic left behind in their minds. Trying to free them of it has been…unsuccessful.”

Peter flinched at the involuntary Sight of what she meant.

“I want all of the Summons on alert for this, if nothing else,” Madam Van continued. “From there, the Council and the Network. The rest of the word can be spread by word of mouth once we’ve gotten more information about what we’re up against.”

Peter took a step forward, cutting through this before things got rolling out of reach. “There is something I must find, a book.”

Madam Van looked at him, her gaze searching in a way that made him uncomfortable. “You once told me that I would have to let you do something stupid in the face of something dire. Please tell me this is not what you meant because I do not want to send you and yours off to find a book when we have bigger problems.”

Peter gave a sheepish grin. “I’ll let you know when I remember that conversation.”

Her gaze narrowed, but eventually she sighed and gave in. “Fine. But I get your fiance for a few minutes before you leave.”

Peter whipped his head around to gape at Ezekiel, mouthing, ‘We’re engaged?!’

Ezekiel looked to Madam Van, gently grabbing Peter’s arm. “Just give me a moment with him and I’m all yours.”

Peter willingly followed Ezekiel to a secluded corner of the study. He caught sight of Pandora greeting Madam Van happily and Aiden easily mingling with those that had trailed after her before Ezekiel’s body got in the way. He looked up at the man, asking in a rushed whisper, “When were you going to tell me we were engaged?”

“It wasn’t something that needed to be mentioned till a later date,” Ezekiel tried to assure him. It only made him mad. “There was no ring or anything. We had talked about it before you dropped off the face of the planet and Madam Van has always teased us about being forever engaged. She’s an annoying woman once you get past the stuffy professional air.”

“I can assure you that I am no such horrible creature, thank you very much.”

Ezekiel moved to the side so that Peter could see Madam Van standing a few paces behind Ezekiel, her entourage and his entertaining themselves. She offered him a soft smile and Peter was certain this was a different woman.

“You have done stupid things these past few years, haven’t you, Peter,” she softly chided, the teasing tone only heightening her smile. “Had I’d known before hand of the loss of your memory, I would have had so much more fun with that.”

“Please no,” Ezekiel all but begged. “It’s almost worse than a birthday in The Holiday.”

Peter blinked, looking up at the man. “Why does that sound capitalized?”

“Because he doesn’t like calling it Christmas,” Madam Van stage whispered to him.

He blinked owlishly at her as Ezekiel scoffed. “That holiday should no longer exist in my opinion.”

“Oh, posh,” Madam Van countered. “You like the excuse to spoil your friends and family. With that said…” Her gentle gaze returned to him. “Before you left all behind, you came by for a final visit and left something with me. When this is all said and done and you remember what it is, my doors are open.”

Peter felt the weight of her words heavy on his shoulders. He nodded, offering, “Hopefully I can quote the conversation word for word by the end of this.”

Madam Van laughed. “That would certainly be impressive. You were never one to remember things well to begin with.”
“Madam Van.”

His gaze moved with the others to the intruder. The young man bowed towards them all. “i apologize for the interruption. You wanted me to keep us moving.”

Madam Van’s expression suddenly hardened. “Right.” She looked to Ezekiel and Peter once more. “With the pleasantries over, we must get down to business.” She focused on Peter. “As much as I don’t want to send you and yours off on some wild goose chase, it would seem I don’t have much choice in the matter. I will send Ezekiel after you when we are done making sure everything else that can be prepped is prepped for the coming war.”

Peter nodded. “The only snag with that is we don’t know where a Little Hagshire is at. Or, at least, we can’t remember where it’s at. All I know is that it’s somewhere here in Pennsylvanian.”

Ezekiel frowned as Madam Van gave a hum. She offered, “Speak with the pack your companion knows. They travel the state rather regularly so I would be surprised if there wasn’t one that didn’t know where it was located.”

“None of your clan knows?” Ezekiel asked.

“I would be surprised if they did. We tend to stay in the same area of which there is no Little Hagshire. Would one in your coven know?”

“I’m not sure,” he confessed, his hand going to his chin. “I know I’ve heard of the place before but I don’t know where from.”

Peter touched Ezekiel’s arm. “See if you can’t find the answer. In the meantime, we’ll go check out this pack Aiden knows.”

He wasn’t sure if it was hurt or something more that flashed across Ezekiel’s expression. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for me to come with?”

He offered the other an encouraging smile. “It’ll be faster to go our separate ways for now. But unlike last time, we’ll actually see each other in an hour or so.”

“Might be longer than an hour, my love,” Ezekiel pointed out. “I have a lot of ground to cover.”

Peter nodded, fishing out his phone. “Then make sure I have your number. Text me and I’ll tell you where you can come meet us.” Ezekiel took the device and tapped at its screen. Peter turned to Madam Van. “Would it be too much to ask for you to aid him in searching?”

“Not at all,” Madam Van assured him as Ezekiel returned his phone. Peter smiled at the sight of the contact picture. “If Eza is open to it.”

“I can give you a list of those that would be more receptive to you asking than me.”

Madam Van clapped her hands together. “Perfect. Xavier.” The young man that had interrupted them straightened. “I’m going to send you with Peter and his friends to go meet with the pack. You will be the stand-in for the swap spell.”

Xavier nodded even as Peter asked, “Swap spell?”

“A faster way of traveling if there ever was one,” Madam Van explained happily. “Though generally it’s done between objects, it can be done well when the object you are bringing back has magic to help it trade places with the other object. While Ezekiel does have some magic in him innately, it is of no use in spell work. Xavier will be a strong anchor point as well as be able to help boost the spell on his end so that the swap is far more simpler.”

“I am used to this, my Light,” Xavier explained helpfully. “I have the natural ability of creating doorways between to points. If I have been there, I can go there. But to take another along or to pass through the same doorway, there needs to be someone as an anchor on the other side. I am familiar with both Lord Ezekiel and Madam Van that there would be no issue even if they were in some location I have never been. Especially since Madam Van will be the one to instigate the swap.”

Peter shook his head. “I’ll have to trust you all in this, then.” He looked to Ezekiel. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Very,” Ezekiel amended, capturing Peter’s lips in a chase, loving kiss before sending him off.

Peter glanced back towards Ezekiel and Madam Van only when he was with his companions again.Whatever conversation the pair was having, it was rather serious and he did his best not to See what it was they were discussing. He found he didn’t really want to know.

“How you holding up?” Aiden asked as Pandora and Xavier shared a brief hello. It would seem introductions were unnecessary, then.

“Decent enough, I guess,” he replied.

Pandora nudged him with her elbow, teasing, “And finding out you have a hot, vampire boyfriend?”

Peter’s face burned at that. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Aiden laughed, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Of course not. It’s not like we all didn’t see that goodbye kiss.”

Peter shoved Aiden off despite the smile creeping onto his face. A part of him was very relieved by all the teasing, as strange as that was. It brought to light, though, some of their previous comments. “I don’t get one thing, though: when we were talking about coming to Pennsylvania, you acted as if you didn’t know I had a boyfriend who happened to be the Lord of the coven we were visiting. Had you guys forgotten or were you trying to act like it was something that needn’t be mentioned like Marcus’s toilet decorations?”

“Should I be blissfully unaware what sort of toilet decoration this Marcus does?” Xavier asked as both Pandora and Aiden reacted in ways that could be depicted as negative reactions.

Peter offered him a soft smile. “Marcus likes any excuse to decorate.”

“Such a weird trait for a dude,” Aiden muttered.

“Says the dude that is content with belly rubs and chick flicks,” Pandora teased.

Aiden chuckled at that. accepting his loss.
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Aiden and Pandora sobered up at that. Aiden shrugged. “I knew you had a vampire boyfriend but I had thought you two had broken it off a few years ago.”

Pandora shook her head. “I never knew. When I had first met you, I had thought you had just been passing through the coven as I had. I had thought that coming here would be familiar for you in that sense. Not in breaking apart a large section of the spell.”

Peter gave them both a bewildered look. “How did I manage to hide my vampire boyfriend from both of you?” They unhelpfully shrugged at him. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. Madam Van suggested checking in with the pack you know, Aiden, and seeing if any of them have come across Little Hagshire.”

Aiden arched an eyebrow, glaze flickering towards Madam Van. “She truly believes that the pack will know something the clan and coven don’t?”

“The clan doesn’t travel much,” Pandora interjected, parroting Madam Van’s earlier words. “I wouldn’t know about the coven, though.”

“From what the few vampires I know have said,” Xavier interjected, “they can be either always traveling or have settled in a given area. Generally any settling is in magical communities.”

“What are the chances of Little Hagshire being one?” Aiden asked, though it sounded a bit rhetorical to Peter’s ears.

“Very small,” Xavier answered, the comment heavy with something close to regret. “Despite our lack of travel, we do converse quite regularly with the other magical communities around. We’re looked upon for healing and wisdom - or, at least Madam Van’s clan is - and so we know the majority of the magical communities in the surrounding area.”

“And the pack would know of it before the clan would?” Aiden tested. “What would make her think that?”

“Do the packs travel to specific locations or do they just go wherever there’s food?” Pandora interjected.

Aiden blinked at her. “Food,” he responded, now sounding hungry. Peter found himself hungry too but kept the sudden realization to himself. “We’d go where there was food. I don’t know about this pack specifically but I can see her thinking now. If they had wandered close enough to this Little Hagshire, they would have entered it looking for something to eat, even if it was one lone wolf.”

“Speaking of food, can we detour on our way to the pack and grab food?” Peter glanced at all of them. “Even it it’s a stop at the kitchen.”

“My Light.”

Peter jumped and spun around, startled by the sudden appearance of a new person. A few feet away Azar was watching on. Peter focused on the youth before him and the item they carried. “The Lord had requested the kitchens prep food for you and yours for your journey.”

Peter’s gaze flickered over Ezekiel and the hard expression looked pleased even if he never glanced their way. Peter took the bag with a soft thanks before focusing on Azar. “When he is done, will you please let Ezekiel know we appreciate the food and gesture and that we look forward to seeing him soon?”

Azar nodded as the youth bowed and scurried over to Azar. Azar turned, placing a hand on the youth’s back and showering them with praise. Peter smiled at the sight before turning and gesturing with the bag. “Food obtained. Any more talking can be done on the road. I want to get moving while there’s still time.”

“How much time do we have left?” Pandora asked as the group started for the door.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Enough, hopefully.”

Peter hadn’t thought on how they were going to locate the pack till they had been driving for an hour. He was still taken aback by how giving the coven had been, what with the food and now the car they were letting them use, that he hadn’t even realized it had been an hour till Aiden growled, “Where in the Moon’s good graces are they?”

Pandora patted his shoulder. It did nothing for the death grip Aiden had on the steering wheel. “We have just a few more stops. We’ll find them.”

Xavier curled in on himself, muttering, “I hope we find them soon. I don’t like this place.”

Peter couldn’t blame the other. Wherever Aiden had taken them, the scene outside his window was eerie. The thick night was not helping the matter but he felt that it would have been just as eerie in broad daylight. Wherever they were, it didn’t want them staying long.

There was the sound of rushing air before a repetitive muffled thumping of sorts. Aiden bit out several cuss words and quickly pulled over.

The rear driver tire was flat.

“At least it wasn’t shredded,” Peter commented, trying to see light in a situation that was making Aiden pissed.

“Yeah, well, a flat ain’t gonna get us anywhere.” The man turned a sharp gaze at the two magicfolk. “Either of you got a spell for this?” They both shook their head no. “Then help me get the spare out of the trunk. I ain’t doing this by myself.”

Peter wandered to the front of the car, feeling as if he was in the way as Pandora started talking with Aiden in a hushed voice. Xavier quickly joined him after he caught a few words.

“Are they together?”

Peter looked to Xavier watching the pair empty out the trunk. “As far as I know. But, then, I’ve been under some magical spell so I don’t know how accurate that is.”

“What’s a battle of Light vs. Dark without the threat of a loved one getting harmed?” Xavier joked. The smile on his face spoke of the stress of that statement.

“Do you have a partner?” Peter asked, trying to decipher what the stress was stemming from.

Xavier chuckled, though it came off both parts sad and dark. “Not like that.”
Peter frowned. “Then how?”

Xavier looked to him, studying him before replying, “I have someone I’ve worked with for quite some time, someone I care about.” His gaze drifted back to Pandora and Aiden. “But it’s nothing like what you have with Lord Ezekiel nor what they have. We’re just friends. Almost family, even, but lovers? I’m not even sure that’s what I want in the end.”

“How so?”

Xavier looked to him, his expression curious. “Was Lord Ezekiel your first partner?”

Peter shrugged. “If he wasn’t I don’t remember any of my previous relationships.”

He also couldn’t tell how old he was anymore but Xavier nor the others needed to know that.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t my first relationship. Otherwise I probably would be taking the risk and asking Orion out.” Xavier sighed and focused on the trees that surrounded them. “I grew up in a world where being gay was punished by an assortment of violences and when I started dating, I never thought to look towards the same sex. But then I met this boy that could see how much of a lie I was living and changed my whole view on life itself. It was easy to be friends in public and lovers in secret. He had been so kind and caring….”

Peter fought the lump in his throat as Xavier’s words petered out. Despite everything, he could See what Xavier was struggling to admit. “You don’t have to tell me, Xavier,” he softly urged. “There is no need for me to hear any of this.”

Xavier gave him a soft smile. “No, but I want you to hear it if you want to listen, my Light. Maybe that way I can finally get beyond my past and take a leap that I want to take despite my apprehension.”

Peter reached out without knowing what he was intending to do. He found his hand sliding into the hair at the back of Xavier’s neck and he pulled the other closer, pressing their foreheads together. As awkward as his logic was telling him this was, he knew that Xavier would find it familiar and far more reassuring than anything else he would have done. He wasn’t sure he knew exactly how he became privy to that information - he was going to blame his Sight but even that didn’t seem quite right - but it didn’t seem to matter as Xavier relaxed. The tension that had been there the moment he had intruded in on Peter’s conversation with Ezekiel and Madam Van finally eased.

“I am sure if you spoke with Orion about this, there would be no hard feelings,” Peter tried, not sure if he trusted his own words. “There may be an awkward period but it will pass.”

Xavier gave a weak chuckle. “Why are you being so tolerant, my Light?”

“Because despite popular belief, I actually have a heart and taking being people’s guiding light seriously,” he chided and Xavier laughed. He felt the other test his hold on the back of Xavier’s head but did not relent and Xavier did not force himself free. He carefully amended, “And because I lose nothing right now offering you comfort. You don’t have a partner to rely on and despite remembering that I have had one for years, I’ve spent quite some time getting through life without one while watching everyone else have one.” He gave a slightly sad smile. “It’s not fun.”

Xavier gave a stronger chuckle at that, the edges sounding watery. “No it is not.”

Peter pulled away, allowing Xavier his personal space again. “Feeling a bit stronger?”

Xavier nodded. “Still concerned for you and yours, my Light, but more confident in your abilities, if nothing else.”

Peter laughed at that.

A bang echoed through the trees.

Someone screamed.

His shoulder collided with the street painfully, a ringing in his ears so loud, he couldn’t even think straight. Gravel scrapped against his hand as he tried to shove himself upright but there was something pinning him down, something trying to harm him, and he rolled over to face his assailant.

Xavier’s worried face came into view and he stumbled, looking around as panic pounded against his chest. Pandora and Aiden were rushing over looking just as worried as Xavier but Peter didn’t give them much attention. He snapped his gaze this way and that, ignoring their voices calling to him, before turning to them, choking out, “We’ve got to go.”

“What?” was echoed at him.

“Pete, calm down,” Aiden commanded. “The tire isn’t all the way on yet.”

He shook his head, feeling as if he was coming undone. “No. We have to go. We have to leave. It’s almost timeand we’re exposed.”

Pandora moved between them before Aiden could argue against him again, putting her back to Peter. “The tire’s on and bolted, Aiden. Whatever Peter Saw freaked him out enough to accidentally spell the thing done.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a spell for changing a tire,” Aiden challenged.

She must have given him a look because he cowed at it. “There are spells for each step but weaving them together and getting it to be a seamless process would be a waste of magic when we have the tools to do it properly and your strength behind it. Tightening bolts isn’t an easy spell anyways. A touch of magic in either direction could destroy the bolt or not tighten it at all.”

Aiden let out a sharp breath. “Fine. Help me shove everything back into the truck then.”

Pandora was right behind him. Xavier gave his arm a squeeze before hurrying after the others. Suddenly alone, Peter curled in on himself, hands going to his head. He didn’t want to See it again. He got the message so why was his Sight trying to show it to him over and over again? He was trying to get them out of there as fast as he could!

“Take a calming breath.”
His entire being froze as he opened his eyes. He found a well lit hardwood floor beneath his shoes and he carefully raised his head, his breath still coming in strangling gasps. Her hands buried themselves in his hair as he looked up at her face. “Easy, sweetie. Calming breaths.”

She audibly breathed in slowly and he found himself immediately mimicking her. She held it for a brief moment and he held his, releasing his slowly along with her release. He found it easier to breathe in the next one, no longer needing to mimic her to follow the exercise. When even his pounding heart had calmed in his chest, she pulled away offering a soft, careful smile. “There we go. Better?”

He nodded.

“Good. Now, tell me what you Saw.” He shook his head vehemently, tears springing to his eyes. “Sweetie,” she softly cooed, “keeping it in and to yourself will only make it worse. You have to tell me what you saw so that we can face it together.”

He rubbed at his face, muttering a watery, “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to what?” she gently encouraged.

“I don’t want to see it,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to see it.”

She ran her hand over his hair. “Sweetie, it’s ok. Just tell me what you Saw.”

He sniffled. “I saw you die.”

“And?”

He wrapped his arms tight around his torso. “And I can’t change it.”

There was silence as her hand stilled on the top of his head and for a moment he felt horrible because he made her sad but then her hand moved to his cheek and she brought his gaze up to meet hers. Her expression was warm, happy even, as she offered, “Do you want to know what I Saw?”

He nodded, sniffling again.

“I Saw you with someone very dear to your heart, someone who you left behind for a number of years to protect them from what had to be done, and then reuniting despite you no longer remembered them.”

He made a face against the same Sight, though his was just impressions where hers would have been as clear as the moment they were sharing. “That sounds awful.”

She chuckled. “As awful as it sounds, can you change it?”

He twisted up his expression more. “No.”

“Do you want it to change?”

He Saw where it all ended, even if it was just an impression. He was loved by this someone so completely and he the same for them, that he found himself shaking his head. “I want the ending.”

“Do you know what my ending is?”

His gaze snapped up to her face, eyes wide. “But I don’t want you to have that ending.”

“But you See the ending that happens should mine never come.”

And he could. He could See it very clearly. If she did not meet her ending as openly as she was right now, if she denied herself that ending, she was denying the ending for many. He pressed his hands into his eyes, not wanting to See how happy she was to create so much joy out of her death. She kissed the top of his head. “Most Seers do not get the ending you do, sweetie. Too many have been hunted and persecuted or worked too hard to live. But now, now there is a chance for future Seers to live a joyous, unbound life till their end comes. Your end extends beyond so many that you will become the guiding light for far more than you can see right now and that, that is the greatest gift any Seer can receive.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

She kissed his forehead. “I know, Sweetie. You will. Just remember, if you don’t forget, then you will never make it to your ending.”

He shook his head, words of denial in his throat, but when he opened his eyes to look up at her, he found himself on the edge of the road in front of the car. The others were still loading the trunk back up oblivious to what had just happened and even he himself didn’t understand.

He slipped back into the car, grateful when they didn’t so much as glance his way. He dug into the bag they had been given and pulled out his book. None of the others had mentioned anything about it being in the bag so he wasn’t sure if they knew he had it again or not.

Maybe he was overthinking things.

The bound pages fell open rather close to where he needed to be. A couple of more pages and he found it scrawled in the margin: Don’t forget 3 Oct 11. There were other notes to it, jokes of how other things were being correlated with the date and all that, but none of it explained what it was he wasn’t supposed to forget. Because clearly he had forgotten it as that woman had told him he would all those years ago but it only made him have more questions.

The trunk thudded shut loudly and the others clambered in.

Pandora turned around in her seat, looking at him. “How are you doing? Still freaked out?”

He shook his head. “No, but I will be glad when we get moving again.”

“Working on it,” Aiden assured him as he turned the car on.

“What had you seen?” Xavier gently inquired.

He started to shake his head, to deny them what he had seen, but the memory - or hallucination for all he knew - stilled his initial instinct and he found himself sharing, “We were attacked. Someone was shot but I don’t know who. I was slammed into the street by something that pinned me down to stab me with something, I think.” He rubbed at his face, feeling far too tired. “I don’t know. It just filled me with a panic that I couldn’t shake.”

Silence settled in the car.
“Can we avoid it?”

Peter looked up at Aiden but the other’s gaze was on the road. Peter shook his head, offering, “If we hadn’t been able to, we would have already succumbed to it.”

He stilled his tongue before he could jinx them.

“So we’re safe now?” Xavier asked, his voice belaying his confusion.

Pandora interjected, “It’s not always that simple. As straight forward as you would think a Sight would be, sometimes trying to avoid them only causes them.”

“Or something worse happens,” Aiden added. The man glanced towards him through the rear view mirror. “Can you See if there are any consequences, Pete?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have any clue on how my Sight works, let alone how to See something specific. I’m still at the mercy of my Sight at the moment.”

“Great,” Aiden growled.

“Uh, guys?” Xavier called out.

“What’s wrong?” Aiden all about snarled.

“I think we’ve found Little Hagshire.”

The car started to slow immediately as Peter snapped his gaze out his nearest window. Sure enough, a ‘Little Hagshire, Population 1,347’ sign flashed passed, leaving Peter with a sense of foreboding.

“Guess we didn’t need the pack,” Aiden grumbled, the illusion settling over the still half shifted werewolf.

“We can still drop in to say hi,” Pandora assured him even as her gaze was out the window. Peter returned his gaze to the town.

It was surprisingly easy for him to recall where the house was despite how awkward his viewing angle of the streets had been. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to the start of a drive. Aiden shifted the car into park before leaning over Pandora to look up at the house. “Charming,” he commented. “So who’s going up to ring the doorbell.”

“I doubt that’ll work.”

Aiden looked at Xavier, drawling, “And what makes you say that?”

“I’m fairly certain we’re in a ghost town of sorts.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. A ghost town. No people, just abandoned homes and buildings. He shook his head. “But I had seen licence plates, people milling about.”

“Another illusion, then?” Pandora asked, looking at all of them. “Something keeping outsiders from seeing what’s really here?”

Xavier shook his head. “I didn’t feel anything when we entered the city.”

“Nothing except dread,” Aiden commented flippantly. He was startled when everyone else confirmed the feeling. “No way.” He focused on Peter. “You know anything about that, then?”

Peter shook his head. “I may remember a lot but I don’t remember enough to be of any use and I doubt my book has anything on Little Hagshire in it.”

“How did you get that, anyways?” Pandora asked. “I thought it got left behind.”

“It had, but Ezekiel had made sure it got stuck in the food bag for me.”

Aiden made a face. “You’ve got one weird boyfriend.”

Peter shrugged before looking to Xavier. “Will you get a message of some sort or were they waiting on me to let them know to send Ezekiel?”

Xavier shook his head. “I doubt it would hurt to text Lord Ezekiel. That way he knows that we’ve stopped, at least.”

Peter nodded, grabbing his phone.

“So who’s traversing the house?”

He looked up at Aiden, answering, “Pandora and me.”

Aiden gave him a flat look. “I was joking.”

“I’m not.” Aiden opened his mouth to argue but Peter cut him off. “I know you want all of us to go but I think it would be best to have as few people trespassing as possible. And as much as I would have preferred to go in alone, I know you all would fight me on that so I’m going to take Pandora.”

“Why me?” she asked, clearly startled by his initial claim.

“Because I need a magic user with me, rather than a shifter, and as much as I would like to take Xavier instead, I can’t risk the chance of Ezekiel coming in the middle of us breaking in.” He pressed send on the message. “Besides, I would feel more comfortable having Aiden and Xavier covering our flanks than in the middle of whatever mess we get into.”

“How much time am I allotting you before I come barging in?” Aiden demanded.

Peter offered him a soft smile, grateful the man was willing to put up with the plan for now. “20 minutes. I know where it’s at. I’m just concerned on getting there.”

Aiden gave a sharp nod before looking to Pandora. “Be careful, the both of you. I don’t want to have to come save your scrawny asses any time soon.”

“Stay alert yourself,” Pandora replied. “I don’t want to come back to find you two had been ambushed.”

Peter opened his door and climbed out. He turned and passed his book to Xavier. “Hold onto this for me and make sure Ezekiel receives it if he comes while we’re in the house.”

Xavier nodded, carefully holding the bound pages in his hands as if it was a precious, ancient tomb that would fall apart if he brought it to his chest.

Closing the door, he started up the drive. Pandora lit the way with the gem of her staff but Peter felt exposed in the light. He moved as quickly to the door and tried opening it.

Locked.

“I’ve got it,” Pandora breathed. A few muttered words and the lock clicked open. She opened the door, leading the way with her illuminated staff. Peter glanced back at the car to see Aiden leaning against the passenger side. He let the door close completely, cutting off his line of sight back to the car.

It was oppressively dark in the home. Pandora had wandered off, probably checking the first floor, but he didn’t go after her. Instead, he took to the stairs as quietly as he could. He was determined on doing this part on his own and he found the room rather easily.

Something was glowing in the dark depths of the room.
Shivers raced down his back - from fear, excitement, or something else, he wasn’t sure - as he stepped into the room trying to decipher what exactly was glowing. But the glow was just too dim for him to properly see it and he didn’t dare pull out his phone to light up the space. He still couldn’t shake the exposed feeling crawling up his spine.

He closed his eyes.

When he had Seen it originally, the room had been lit. Not completely but certainly far better than it was now. He concentrated on the Sight he had seen and tried to recall how the room had been arranged. Slowly the image swirled into view in his mind’s eye. He reached blindly back and closed the door. It barely even clicked as it slid shut.

Before him should be a precarious pile of books on a table. It wasn’t an overly large pile but it was enough to make reaching for the book on top a challenge. Other books and an assortment of other things littered the floor and he carefully started crossing the ten feet or so between him and the book.

His searching hand found the edge of the table first. He stepped right up to it and tipped his head back a bit. If he was right, it should be just above his reach. With his hand braced on the edge of the table, he reached up as high as he could go.

Something pressed against his eyes just before something else pressed against his back. Before he could panic or move in any way, Ezekiel’s scent washed over him and the other’s familiar hand wrapped around his raised wrist.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” the vampire muttered in his ear. “I thought we were going into Little Hagshire together.”

“I had forgotten about that,” he confessed, pressing into Ezekiel’s body. “Did Aiden fill you in, by chance?”

“I was told the gist of it, yes.” Ezekiel gently guided his outreached hand back down to his side without letting him touch anything. “You should have waited.”

“But it’s right there, up at the top.”

“I know. And you shouldn’t be touching it.”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing against Ezekiel’s hand. “Why?”

The sound of footfall alerted him to company. Thankfully it was good company.

“Lord Ezekiel, what-for the grace of Magic, was he going to touch that?” Pandora exclaimed as best one could do in a low voice.

“Unfortunately,” Ezekiel confirmed, forcing Peter to walk with him as the vampire turned about. “Thankfully he wasn’t actually looking at it.”

“Small favors,” Aiden growled out. “Should we even be taking that thing?”

He tried to remove Ezekiel’s hand from over his eyes. The man didn’t even so much as acknowledge his attempt. “Guys, it’s fine. It’s the book we need. There’s no harm in me grabbing it.”

“I would trust your boyfriend on this one, Pete,” Aiden urged. “You don’t want to be touching that thing.”

Peter frowned. “Ezekiel.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Let me go.”

Ezekiel’s touch convulsed. “I can’t-”

“I am in no danger, Ezekiel. Please let me go.” His voice was steady, calm. It denied all of them the watched feeling he was still feeling.

But he knew he had won. Ezekiel took his sweet time letting him go but Peter could See he had won. Ezekiel would not deny him this. The man released him and slowly moved away. He did heed Ezekiel’s nonverbal warning and kept his eyes closed. It made it easier for him to pretend the room was still too dark to see in. Turning right about, he found the edge of the table again and reached up.

His touch was true and he found the top of the stack just underneath his touch. He gently pulled at the book, bringing it off the top of the stack into his hand and down to his chest. As soon as he had the cover against his chest, Ezekiel pulled Peter to his chest and took off. Peter let out an undignified squawk that was muffled by Ezekiel’s shoulder. Before he knew it, the night air was ruffling his hair and Ezekiel was putting his feet down on gravel. He opened his eyes, turning to look back at the house, but Ezekiel had placed him down with his back to the home and so even just a twitch to try and see was caught by the vampire and denied.

“They are almost here,” Ezekiel assured him. “Don’t look back.”

He shot the other a confused look but the sound of footfall proved Ezekiel right. His friends came up on either side of him and stood before him so that he would have no reason to look back. He wondered why they were doing that but felt no need to push his luck.

He had the book. Whatever was in this was supposed to help them. Pulling the cover from his chest, he saw the same detailing he had seen in the Sight, though there was a faint glow coming from the golden green inlays. There was no title on the front and the one on the spine was too worn to be read so he opened to the title page. Startled, he read it out loud. “A Written Collection of the Supernaturals?”

“That’s it?” Aiden demanded. “We go into a cursed house for an encyclopedia?”

He started flipping pages. “Would seem like it.”

“But why?” Pandora asked, shaking her head. “What’s so important about an encyclopedia of the supernatural?”

“I think it was worth it,” Peter interjected. He looked up from some creature he couldn’t even pronounce the name of. “I still don’t have much of my memories back so a lot of these are new to me.”

Ezekiel’s hand was heavy on his shoulder. “Regardless of the book’s importance, we have it. Now it’s time to get out of here and back to the others. I would like to not be so exposed much longer.”
Peter went to climb into the back seat but Ezekiel had opened the passenger door instead and he didn’t feel like arguing. He watched Pandora and Aiden climb into the back seat through the mirror and realized why Ezekiel had done that. Pandora looked just as shot as Aiden did and Peter started to fret about what had happened until Ezekiel was taking a-hold of his hand as he got in.

“It wasn’t anything they couldn’t manage,” Ezekiel assured him as the pair in the back settled down with soft voices. Peter glanced at them again to find Pandora in the middle seat leaning against Aiden who was seated behind him. A furry arm was wrapped around Pandora, holding her close, soft words being shared between them. “They’ll be fine.”

Peter wasn’t sure he agreed but situated himself all the same. Ezekiel started the car and pulled away from the curb.

The book was utterly fascinating. He was certain he had known about most of these creatures at one point but now it was all foreign to him. He had flipped between his friends’ and lover’s passages, enjoying the information there before he started to flip about by random.

A passing thought had him briefly pausing before flipping to the ’S’s. With a careful eye, he started skimming the entries for a specific one.

It was one of the shortest entries he had seen yet, lacking even a picture. Still, the little paragraph held enough information to satisfy one question and generate several more.

Shadows: The entities known only as Shadows have no true depiction. Unlike the Ruh, Shadows do not have a standard form one could expect to see them in or be able to identify them as. Shadows are the dangerous, volatile counter-creature to the Walkers.

He quickly flipped to the back of the book, backtracking pages till he found the one he was looking for. This time the passage he found was lengthy, accompanied by a few illustrations and one picture.

Walkers: Though commonly misnamed as Shadows, Walkers are considered harmless supernaturals. Despite their ghastly appearances, Walkers are not know to harm anyone. What does put them under the cautionary symbol is the unpredictable behavior of them whisking away souls.

Walkers are not the only supernaturals to whisk souls and body away (see image 3b, pg vi) however they are one of three that will whisk away all form of sentient beings. There have been reports that Walkers will take magicfolk, merfolk, humans, shifters, and vampires to name only a few groups. No one is sure why a Walker will take a certain soul. There have been no cases of the body or soul ever being seen again.

“What did you find?”

Peter glanced over at Ezekiel before looking out the window. They were back at the coven location.

“I found an interesting thing,” he offered. “Apparently there are these things call Walkers that are often mistaken as Shadows but Shadows are actually the counter-creature to the Walkers.”

“And how did you come across that?”

“Madam Van’s statement about people being attacked by what they thought could be Shadows but how she had never actually heard of a Shadow attacking anyone. I think she was talking about Walkers with that last one.”

He clambered out of the car as Ezekiel grabbed the bag from the back. Aiden and Pandora were both unconscious and Peter almost left them there. Opening the door carefully, the lack of back support woke Aiden up. He gave Peter a hooded look and Peter offered the other a soft smile. “We’re back.”

“Ok,” Aiden assured him around a yawn. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Ezekiel took Peter’s free hand and gently tugged him towards the entrance. Peter fell in step with his lover, apprehension washing over him.

“Ezekiel.” The vampire gave a hum. “What do we do now? Maria said that something was coming after me, that I had 24 hours to keep my head low and my friends safe, but we still don’t know what is after me.”

Ezekiel was quiet as they passed through the front doors. Peter gave a start, not expecting so many people bustling about the halls.

“For now, you stay in the safety of the coven,” Ezekiel offered simply. “Madam Van’s priority is the Summons and whatever is taking them out. A number of the Summons are part of my coven so I have made sure the that the coven proper has been well fortified against most attacks. Madam Van has since then been using it as a base of operations.”

“Thus all the people.”

Ezekiel offered another hum. “There will be more of the coven present as well but you should be safe enough inside these walls.”

The statement did nothing for his apprehension.

Ezekiel stopped on their way to what Peter was assuming was the study they had first been in and called out, “White Cat, Black Cat, come here for a moment.”

A pair seemed to appear out of nowhere, one dressed in mostly white, the other in mostly black.

“You called, oh Lord of ours?” the one in white asked, flicking their white fedora from their head in a flourished bow.

“How can we assist you and our Light, dear Lord?” the one in black added, flicking their black fedora from their head in the same flourished bow as their counterpart. Peter wondered if he would be able to tell the two apart if they weren’t wearing their specific attire.

“Black Cat,” Ezekiel said to the one in white and Peter’s eyes got hide as his mouth got very flat. Whelp, there went that thought. “Would and White Cat do me a favor and keep our Light company while I deal with business matters?”

“I don’t need babysitters,” Peter complained, feeling affronted. Honestly, why was he suddenly being ditched?

Ezekiel’s hand was in his hair, warm breath on the curve of his ear. “This isn’t supposed to be a punishment, love.”
“He’s actually doing you a favor. my Light,” the one in black offered gently.

The one in white continued, “The work our Lord Ezekiel is getting into will be very boring.”

“Especially for one that does not remember any of it,” the other one finished.

Peter pressed into Ezekiel, eyes still on the pair before them. “Truly, Ezekiel?”

“If I could avoid it, I would, but this way you are farther from potential harm and protected by the best I have to offer.” Ezekiel kissed his ear, sending a shudder down his spine. “Please. To put me at ease for the next few hours.”

“I have to keep moving,” Peter urged on a breath.

Ezekiel’s arms tightened around him. “I know. Just give me a few hours.”

Peter sighed. “Ok.”

Ezekiel kissed his temple. “Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He turned his head to say something but found that the kiss Ezekiel pressed to his lips far more important. It was brief and soon he was left with two people he did not know and wasn’t certain he had known. Their only saving grace was Ezekiel’s trust in them and so he gave them a chance. He pointed to the one in black, “White Cat?” he asked. He received a smile and a nod. He pointed to the other one. “Black Cat?” He received a Cheshire grin. “Why the opposite clothes?”

“We like to confuse people,” Black Cat explained immediately.

“Only Lord Ezekiel and yourself have ever been able to tell us apart,” White Cat amended.

Peter’s eyebrows rose to his hairline at the familiarity of the situation. “So I did know you two at some point?”

The pair gained a kicked puppy look he did not like but the look they shared was honest in their disappointment. Thoughts stirred too far out of reach at the back of his mind to know if they were memories or not. He huffed. “With as much as I don’t remember, you two do not have to treat me like we have just met. If you are disappointed to hear that I am without my memories of our time together, I’m sorry to prove such rumors right. Some of my memories are back but not enough for me to know every face I had once known. But the kicked puppy look will not get you very far.”

It was Black Cat who laughed at his statement. White Cat was far more sober about it, looking as if to be on the verge of tears. Those thoughts whispering at him from beyond his reach turned into images, into memories, and he left them be for a little bit longer.

“You will have to forgive Brekon’s amusement. That is near identical to the speech you had given us upon our first proper interaction,” White Cat offered, expression clearing out and leaving behind a tight smile. “While I can see his amusement with it, the reminder is far too bittersweet.”

“Awe, come on Warren,” Black Cat countered. “Admit that you found it just as funny.”

Peter didn’t need his Sight to see how close to tears Black Cat- Brekon was. He was slowly starting to understand how he and Ezekiel could figure out how to tell the two apart even if they traded appearances, the flickers of memories of such times aiding his understanding. He opened his arms to the both of them, giving a tight smile of his own. “I know it doesn’t mean much, what with how I can’t remember either of you fully yet, but if it helps, it’s ok to grieve if even for a moment.”

There was a pause, a breath where Peter thought he had gone about it all wrong, but then the pair’s resolve broke and he found himself engulfed by the two young men, both crying in their own ways. Peter held onto them tight, letting the new wave of released memories to finally flood his mind.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” Brekon asked.

Peter felt his heart break. “I don’t know,” he offered. “As I told Ezekiel, when the memories come back, they’re too blended for me to make sense of what is real and what is not, what happened when.”

Warren pulled back, rubbing at his face swiftly. “But you are remembering?”

Peter gave him a weak smile. “Bit by bit. But that doesn’t-”

The sound of a gun firing echoed like thunder off the walls. Warren’s head jerked back and for one terror filled moment, he expected Warren to collapse dead at his feet. Instead, the young man hit the ground, groaning as he curled in on himself, hands pressed to the top of his head. Peter could already see the long line of blood in Warren’s hair where the bullet had grazed him. Brekon called out his brother’s name as he hit his knees at his brother’s side.

Peter felt something sliding down his neck and he reached up, finding a sticky substance on his neck. His fingers were red when he pulled them away. He turned, finding Aiden struggling to keep the assailant from firing a second shot.

There was the click of a gun behind him and Peter turned his head slowly to find Brekon and Warren pinned down by two people a piece. A fifth assailant was standing behind him, pointing a gun at his head. “Pity we have to kill you, Seer,” the assailant spoke gruffly. “Rumors had it that you were quite the nice guy.”

“Oh?” Peter asked, the word trilling almost as if sung. His head pounded as whatever held his memories back broke under the force of his magic surging forward to heed his rage. “Well, then I guess I should fix that, shouldn’t I?”

There was a flash of light and the assailant collapsed at his feet.

“No more Mister Nice Guy.” Peter sneered at the assailants pinning his boys down. “I would get off of them if I were you.”
The two on Warren hesitated and it was enough for an opening for the youth to utilize. One of the ones on Brekon launched at him, giving Brekon an opening to take out the remaining assailant. Before the assailant could finish with is second step towards him, there was another burst of light and the assailant was thrown into the wall.

A second gunshot rang through the hallway and Peter turned to watch Aiden headbutt the assailant he was fighting. The assailant dropped like a rock, gun skittering away on the ground. Aiden took a step back but his leg gave out from under him. Even with the distance between them, Peter could make out the bullet wound. He took off, covering the distance between them in no time Pandora ran over to Aiden’s side.

Before he could say anything, Aiden ground out, “Did you just kill that guy?”

He felt his face heat up. “What?!” he sputtered. “No! Of course not! He attacked my boys and threatened to shoot me. I wasn’t about to give him the chance to actually go through with his threats. What did you want me to do, go easy on him?”

Aiden stared up at him and for a moment he wondered why the other wasn’t saying anything until two bodies collided with his back. The only reason why he didn’t lash out was because he immediately recognized the dual flames of life in either body.

“He remembers!” they cheered right into his ears. He flinched from the assault on his ear drums but didn’t push them off or away. Instead, he grabbed at their arms, holding them close.

“For a moment, I thought you were never going to remember,” Brekon muttered into his shoulder blade. Peter’s heart clenched in his chest as Warren added with a mutter into Brekon’s hair, “That we were going to have to try and create our little family again.”

Peter twisted around in their hold, pressing his head between theirs when they made room. “Oh, boys,” he softly cooed. “I could never forget you. Not completely.”

“But you remember us now?” Brekon asked in a small voice.

He pulled back and cupped Brekon’s cheek. “I remember just about everything.”

“Peter.”

Peter whipped his head around at the voice, the motion made difficult when he refused to let go of the twins at the same time. Thankfully Ezekiel was ahead of him, wrapping his arms around Peter. No longer able to keep a hold on the twins even if he still wanted to, he buried his hands in Ezekiel’s hair as the man pressed a desperate kiss to his lips.

When they separated, Peter found himself shaking. He flinched when Ezekiel covered his ear with his palm. That explained the blood at least. The man kissed his other temple, muttering, “It’s ok. You’re safe. The boys are safe. I’ve got you.”

“What was that?” he muttered. He pulled back, ignoring the twinge of pain in his ear from the friction. “Why did they attack us?”

“They’re members of a radical group called the Balance,” Warren supplied, his voice echoing in the quieting hall.

Brekon continued on. “Their goal is to return balance to the world by taking out Seers and other Powerfuls.”

Peter frowned. “What kind of balance does that even bring?”

“A balance of power.” Peter looked up at Ezekiel, the man’s words a low rumble for Peter that still carried through the silent hall. “This way when war is declared, the sides are more evenly matched in strength.”

That sent the hall into an uproar and Peter ignored it, asking over the ruckus, “Do you truly believe a war is coming?”

“You were the one to warn us about it,” Madam Van explained, joining the small group. Peter took a step back, welcoming her into their little circle. “It had been the last times we were all together before you disappeared. It certainly hadn’t been the main reason but it hadn’t helped the mood at all.”

“That would explain why I can’t remember anything about this Balance group,” Peter offered. “The only thing I’m able to remember from that strip of time is a piece of paper with ’13 is unlucky number’ printed on it. It’s driving me a little nuts, actually.”

Ezekiel chuckled. “Well, there were bound to be side effects from that spell, after all.”

“Which brings us to my question,” Pandora interjected, joining the group with a limping Aiden in her wake. Peter took a step back to make room for them, sending the man a smile. He received a grin in turn before Pandora rounded on him. “Why did you have me place a spell on you that you knew was going to fail because of you being of high magic? Why didn’t I know about you being of magic like that?”

He offered her a weak smile. “I honestly don’t remember, Pan. That stretch of time is the only area that isn’t back yet.”

“Awe man. Does that mean I don’t get to reintroduce you to the pack?” Aiden teased.

The laugh was there in his chest as he opened his mouth to respond but for the third time that night, the sound of gunfire rang through the hall. It was like someone had fired a starter pistol. The crowd ducked as one and started to scatter. Aiden transformed mid turn, taking off into the crowd with Madam Van on his tail. Pandora placed herself between Peter and the crowd as Ezekiel’s fear filled expression dominated his line of sight, Brekon and Warren’s fear stricken, battle ready faces over Ezekiel’s head at an angle he didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand it till pain suddenly flared to life when his back was pressed against the stone floor, the pain turning into a white hot flame that exploded from a point on his chest he could no longer pinpoint. The pain ate him alive like living fire, spreading from his chest to consume everything.
The only thing he knew for the longest time was pain. Blinding pain. He couldn’t think, couldn’t See, couldn’t do anything but be swallowed by whatever pain had decided to devour him. After what felt like an eternity, he found himself opening his eyes to a dim ceiling, the pain a throbbing in his chest but nothing more. It took a while before his brain caught up with past events enough for him to remember why he was in pain.

Someone had shot him. He couldn’t remember if it had been from the front or the back but he trusted his family and had to guess it had come from the crowd he had been facing.

At least he wasn’t dead.

Yet.

Sitting up was a chore but he managed it. It caused the pain to become a stabbing sensation rather than a throbbing but he could deal. At least now he could look around.

It seemed he had been stuck in a rather secluded little room. If nothing else, it didn’t look like one of the ones he had frequented enough to remember. He wondered if there was a battle raging on in some part of the compound or if he had missed the fight completely. He rubbed at his face, hoping his family was safe and alive.

There was a way for him to check but even a well controlled Sight could be tricky. There would be very little to tell him if what he Saw was accurate or not and that kind of false information was dangerous.

It seemed fate was kind and sent him the answer instead.

“Oh thank the stars above.”

He looked at the door in surprise only to find his face against a familiar chest. He went to raise both arms but raising his left one made his chest hurt so he left it limp at his side as he grabbed at the fabric on Ezekiel’s chest. He pressed his face farther into the dusty, dirty clothing, muttering, “You’re gross. Why are you gross?”

Ezekiel chuckled, carding his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Because someone decided to wage war in my home and I was not about to let them live it down. Someone thought it would be funny to try and drop the upper floors onto my head.”

“Did you prove them wrong?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“With Death at my side.”

An involuntary laugh caught in his throat as a raw memory of him and Ezekiel arguing over such a flippant belief on Death sprung to mind. It had ended in fits of giggles and laughter when he had called Ezekiel’s blood lust ego zombie mode. The humor faded quickly and he gripped the fabric tighter. “And the boys?”

“Alive and in one piece each,” Ezekiel assured him in a softer voice. “They’ll be by as soon as they’re done chasing a few mice. Aiden Evansworth and Pandora Kind have managed well with the only serious injury between the two of them being the one Aiden got before the actual battle broke out.”

Peter chuckled at that. “Aiden probably enjoyed ripping people a new one for what they did to his leg.”

Ezekiel hummed an affirmation. “As well as fighting alongside the local pack. It would seem Madam Van’s word reached them in time.”

Peter pulled away, slumping against the pillows behind him. “I’m glad.”

Ezekiel’s hand ran over his hair. “Get some rest, my love. I’ll make sure we’re all still here for when you wake next.”

Peter didn’t even get the chance to comment. Sleep took him the moment Ezekiel stopped talking and he didn’t wake again till much later.

The room was barely lit by the gem in Pandora’s staff. It allowed him to see all that were present and it warmed his heart to see Aiden and Pandora asleep on the couch, Ezekiel passed out in the chair beside his bed with Brekon and Warren a pile of bodies at the feet of his chair, Xavier and who he was going to assume was Orion sleeping in two chair so close to each other that it looked like one large chair with how they were leaning against each other, and Madam Van passed out in a chair near the door.

A strange sensation started rolling in his chest separate of the dull hum of pain from his wound. It spread till he couldn’t stay in the bed any longer and he got up on quiet toes, making sure not to step on either of the twins. Crossing to the door was fine but opening it was going to be a challenge. Madam Van’s arm was hanging over the chair’s arm in clear path of the door. Not want to wake her, he carefully lifted her arm and returned it to her lap. Madam Van shifted in her sleep but did not wake and Peter let out a soft breath. He slipped out the door, closing it just as quietly as he had opened it.

The hallway was equally dark in either direction so he just up and picked a direction. It turned out to be the right direction because he quickly found himself in familiar territory. A turn this way, a flight of stairs that way, and through a set of doors had him out on one of his favorite balconies.

Only, there was someone already there.

Several someones.

He stared at the figures but his mind was already telling him they weren’t dangerous.

They were Walkers here to whisk souls away but it was more than that now. He could See their intent and where they wanted to take him.

“Peter?”

He stilled with his hand hovering over a Walker’s offered one and looked back to find Ezekiel in the doorway, a bewildered look on his face that quickly turned into fear. “Peter, what-”

The tears came too quickly but he smiled through them. “I’m sorry, Ezekiel.”

He took the Walker’s hand.

“I love you.”
It was easy for him to silence the chime charm she had placed on the front door. The door clicked shut behind him without much difficulty and he took a moment to take in the home around him. It had been years since he had last stepped foot in her home and it was most likely going to be years more till he did so again. It hurt that he could not drop by and catch up over a cup of tea but the Walkers had asked for just a few years of separation, just till he was strong enough to come back and be able to stay back.

He never fought them on their request. The only thing he had asked was for a compromise.

He paused at the door to her workshop. It hadn’t changed in the past few years - barring the new plants and herbs here and there and the natural change over of the different vials and ingredients - and it left him feeling nostalgic. He found himself standing there watching her for far longer than he had time for and he quietly stepped away from the doorway, grateful she was still the type to get absorbed by her work.

It wasn’t hard to find her room and the door opened easily to reveal a rather empty room compared to the rest of the home. Very little was in it, beyond two doors, a large bed unmade from the previous night, and a few shelves on the walls adorned with pictures, books, and knickknacks. He went straight to one of the shelves and reached behind a picture frame. He wrapped his fingers around a small box tucked away out of sight.

It was rather light and he found himself opening not because he didn’t trust her - she already knew what it was, there was no need for her to peak at it; that wasn’t her - but because he found himself only remembering impressions of the thing inside.

The spring hinge resisted but did not refuse the motion. Inside was a silver band of metal meticulously carved by a skilled and steady hand. Minuscule amounts of other metals were melted into specific details, coloring some of the carvings spectacularly. It had cost him an arm and a leg but that was nothing compared to how treasured he knew the ring would be. Carefully closing the box, he quickly tucked it into an inner pocket and left her home.

A Walker was waiting for him outside and he greeted them with a smile. “One last stop and then we can go back.”

The Walker nodded and offered him a hand. He took it and the world changed. With a dip of his head in thanks, he quickly strode to the building.

The main entrance was out of the question but he had lived here for years and knew where to enter. And since he had his magic back, it was easy to get up onto one of the balconies unseen and enter through its doors.

He cut through the compound with a single room in mind. While he desperately wanted to stop by and check in on a pair of youths, he had promised he would be quick and the fewer that knew he was still ok, the better. Oh, how he hated that he had to choose but at least he was being given this chance to make amends.

The suite door was unlocked and opened without a sound. It gave a soft click as he closed it and he smiled when a voice snapped from the bedroom, “I swear, Brekon, if that’s you, I’m going to string you up by your toes and-”

The man’s words died in his throat when he stepped out into the sitting room. He offered the other a watery smile as tears sprung to his eyes. He didn’t have time to be overly emotional so he pushed through it, asking, “What has Brekon been up to now that you’re threatening to string him up by his toes again?”

He should have expected the kiss, the careful hands carding shakily through his hair and over his back, the tears they both cried as they clung to each other.

“I thought-” Ezekiel pulled back, cupping Peter’s face between his hands. “I saw you leave with the Walker. You willingly took its hand. I don’t understand. How are you here?”

Peter gave a laugh, the edges heavy with sorrow. Oh how he regretted taking that Walker’s hand but he knew that it would be for the better. “This is Halloween, remember? All Hallow’s Eve when the veil is thinnest?”

The color drained from Ezekiel’s place. “So you are-”

Peter shook his head, gripping at Ezekiel’s wrists. “I am very much still alive and I will be for years to come. The Walkers are able to bridge worlds for the living when the veil is at its thinnest. They’ve taken me and several other Powerfuls to the other realm to keep this world’s balance from being destroyed.”

“Then when are you coming home?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know. Even the Walkers don’t know the exact year but I’ve Seen it enough to know it’s only a few.” He reached into the inner pocket. “I wanted to make sure you knew I was coming back, though, so I made a deal with the Walkers.” He offered the box to Ezekiel and waited till the other had opened it before continuing, “I want to promise you eternity when I get back, if you’ll still have me after all the awful things I’ve put you through.”

Ezekiel kissed him again before he could say anything else. When they separate, Peter was crying again. Ezekiel gently pressed their foreheads together, muttering softly, “You will always and forever be my fool, Peter.” He kissed Peter again. “I love you.”

When they said goodbye on the same balcony as the year prior, Peter had no regrets taking the Walker’s hand.

[ArtisticVicu]

Caffeine Prompts #24-28
Caffeine Challenge
There is a loose hour writing limit to simply write regardless if any of three prompts provided are used. I do n.

Be advised:
Read Part 5 with caution.

The suspension cable was burning cold against his palm but it was barely registering at the back of his mind. His entire attention was on the tall skyscraper before him, waiting as he listened to the wind.

It spoke in ways that those that had never lived on their wings would understand. It whispered to him in ways that did not have words but his wings knew and his soul knew and so he trusted it when it said to let go.

He kicked off the suspension bridge, letting gravity take hold of him at the crest of his leap and drag him down towards the river below.

The wind sang around him and he watched the dark waters come rushing up to meet him.

His wings snapped out to either side, slicing through the air and gaining lift even as he kept diving.

The toes of his shoes skimmed the surface of the river when he pulled out of the dive. Momentum kept him going for so long but the wind was singing to him again and it was easy finding the rhythm needed to keep him going fast and low over the choppy surface.

Land approached sooner than he would have liked and he started to ascend. The distance between him and the horizontal plain grew steadily. By the time the pier and its buildings were passing beneath him, he was already level with the skyscraper’s 20th floor.

He felt the thmp-thmp-thmp of the helicopter blades before he heard them over the wind. The spotlight was on him in quick succession.

With a growl, he rolled with a tuck of his wings and let gravity grab him again. He had dropped maybe two stories when he righted himself and shot towards the helicopter’s belly.

The spotlight was tracking him rather well. He smirked. A breath of the brutal downdraft and he pulled his wings in around him, letting the burst of downward air shove him faster towards the city below than any drop would have managed.

He uncurled one wing enough to catch the air and spin him out of the downdraft. The spotlight kept going, kept looking for him, but he was already landing a few blocks towards the pier as the helicopter - somehow he missed the buddies the helicopter had - and company moved deeper into the city.

He gave his wings a solid beat, stirring up dust and debris as a few feathers were shaken loose. It worked to straighten out some of the kinked feathers, though, as he started for the skyscraper on foot.

The mess of his hair from the mask was easily handled with a quick hand and commonly looking like he had just rolled out of bed. The mask was tucked into an inner pocket of his outer coat. He removed it before he came into view of the skyscraper’s first floor and tucked it under the jacket he had underneath. His wing hid the fabric bulge rather well and no one was going to pay enough attention to his person to notice, not when-

“Mr. Fugama!” the receptionist called out, surprise quickly followed by a sort of fan like glee dancing across the young man’s face. “What are you doing here?”

He gave the other a quick smile as he did his best to hide his nausea at the reaction. Honestly, why did everyone think it was necessary to treat him like some celebrity? “Is Salto still in?”

“Mr. Archeros should still be in his office.” The young man’s expression fell. “But you best hurry. I do not think he is planning on staying for much longer, sir. Do you want me to call ahead?”

He dipped his head, coaxing his smile into something a bit more fetching. The blush on the young man’s face told him it had worked. “No, but thank you.”

The young man nodded and he left the space swiftly.

The elevator opened upon his press of the button. Stepping in and closing the door, he waited till the elevator started moving to secure the bundled coat against the small of his back. Depending on how this went, he wasn’t overly worried about it falling out.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened to reveal one Salto Archeros.

“Lennix?” the man asked as the other’s companions were revealed. A happy smile curled onto the man’s face. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured it was time to have that little chat you keep wanting to have,” he stated rather dully.

Confusion flickered under the other’s pristine mask. It would only be a moment before the other figured it out. “I wish I could stay and chat, Len old chap, but I had a very important meeting at the other side of town that I must-”

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Salto.” The man’s name was heavy on his tongue and he spat it out with a fluff of his feathers.

That got the other man’s attention and understanding registered under the cracking mask.

The man’s two companions had no problem seeing a threat, though. The one on the right charged him first. It was easy to duck and shove a fist into the man’s gut before shoving said man over his shoulder and down his back to the floor. The second one came at him before the first one had hit the floor properly. He threw his hands to the floor and kicked off the ground. His first kick from the cartwheel was blocked but it was enough of a decrease in momentum that he twisted and brought his other leg around, catching the man upside the head and throwing him into the wall.

Salto was there before his feet touched the ground fully. Lennix threw out a wing in hopes of clipping the man in the face but the other slipped under and Lennix used the close proximity to aim a knee at Salto’s head.

The man blocked it with his shoulder and forearm, catching Lennox in the shoulder with a sharp punch with his free hand.

Lennix rolled with it, snapping out with his wings even as his shoulder throbbed. Salto ducked in again. This time Lennix managed to get a punch thrown but the man caught it, kept going, and yanked Lennix’s arm behind his back. Salto hooked his leg and shoved him sideways, pinning him to the wall with is wrist between his shoulders. Before he could even counter, Salto grabbed at his wings at the shoulder and pinned them to one side, effectively ripping a pained cry from him.

“Why are you here, Swallow,” Salto hissed, teeth clashing in his ear.

“The same reason why you showed up on my doorstep, Canis,” he retaliated, jerking against both painful holds and actually managing to swallow the pain that came with it.

He couldn’t see. His head was pinned facing over his right shoulder but Salto was standing behind his left. He couldn’t see the man’s expression, couldn’t read the feel of the man’s grip, and the air was too still to speak to him.

Both holds vanished and Lennix spun to find Salto already stepping away. “Fine. But we’re not having that conversation here.”

Frowning, Lennix fell into step behind Salto.
Lennix expected Salto to enter his office so when the other stopped at the door and closed it, Lennix found the words tumbling out. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a quaint hotel I like to stay at,” Salto offered, sounding bored as he produced something out of an inner pocket. “I will be surprised if you don’t recognize it.”

He frowned at that as the door flashed. “We’re not staying here?”

Salto arched an eyebrow as he pocketed whatever the item had been. “And be where those two can touch you when they wake?” The man opened the door. “I would like to avoid another confrontation, thank you very much.”

Lennix bristled at the view beyond the door. He recognized the gate before he even saw the rest of the building and stared at Salto.

The other simply arched an eyebrow at him again and gestured for him to go first.

He pulled his wings tight against his back and stepped through the door. Sure enough, he stepped out onto a street he hadn’t been to in years but knew still to this day. He looked around as he tried to not drown by all the memories and emotions that slammed into him.

“Very little seems to change here.”

He looked back at Salto. The door closed behind the man and it was like it had never existed in the first place. He searched the other’s expression, finding nothing more than weariness and nostalgia on an expression not even directed at him. Instead, those eyes were locked onto the building behind the gate and Lennix wondered if Salto was in a similar state was he was.

A child ran past with a squealing laugh bubbling out of them. They were quickly followed by half a dozen others all screaming and laughing, breaking whatever mood they had fallen into. The adults corralling the children hurried past, one shooting him and Salto an apologetic smile.

“Come on,” Salto spoke, crossing between Lennix and the retreating storm of children and caretakers. “We had a conversation to get to, remember?”

“Yeah,” he offered weakly and trailed behind the other.

The structure itself was very well done, though it left him wondering if it was meant to look like something out of Wonderland despite its blue color scheme. The winding stairs up to the front deck were still well kept but looked aged. Or maybe they had always been like that and he had long forgotten.

At least the front desk associate was more refined than the one that had greeted him at Salto’s workplace.

Up the stairs they went and down the long hall to a door on the end. Something about the room number tickled at the back of his mind.

“I had forgotten how big this place was,” he commented as Salto unlocked the door.

Salto shifted so that Lennix lost sight of his expression. “The front can certainly be deceiving.”

The door clicked open and his stomach dropped.

“This is the same room, isn’t it?”

Salto had made it two thirds of the way to the balcony sliding glass door by the time he had voiced his thought and the man stopped, turning to look at him. “I am not getting another room, Fugama. It’s this or we don’t talk. Your choice.”

Lennix did his best not to flinch from that and crossed the threshold.

Salto opened the balcony door and stepped out, leaning on the railing heavily. Lennix made sure the door was locked before he crossed to the large double bed and sat down on the foot of it, trying not to think about what had happened in the room before all this.

“When Man discovered Magic, the World stood still with Wonder,” Salto quoted, his words muffled by his direction. The wind brought it to Lennix anyways.

“For Wonder would turn to Terror before the new century met its end, leaving the World blind,” Lennix finished out of habit. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You still believing that old thing?”

Salto laughed. “After everything?” he asked, words edged in manic as he gestured wildly outward. He pushed away from the railing and stormed into the room, a grin on his face that twisted Lennix’s stomach. “After everything that happened in this room?” The man gained some of his composure back as he turned away. Lennix caught a flash of disgust and weariness. “How could I not?”

“Was it all that bad?”

“You cheated on me!” Salto bellowed, turning on his with such violence that Lennix felt the air rush past him as it quivered with the other’s energy. “And lied to me for years!”

“That had been a lapse of judgment from too much alcohol and you know it!” Lennix shot back, on his feet before he even knew he wanted to stand. He deflated because he had come to recognize that wasn’t fair and not the whole of it all. “Please, Salto. Yes, I had drunk too much that night and yes, I should have known it was someone else, but they….” He shook his head. He still didn’t understand how they had convinced him to cheat on Salto. “I did better, tried harder,” he tried again. “I hadn’t asked to be thrust into the roll of a superhero and I didn’t want you dragged into that either.”

Salto scoffed. “And, what? Thought it would be a great idea to leave me at the hands of the Villain Corp instead?”

Lennix took a step towards the other, urging, “I hadn’t even realized they were recruiting, let alone recruiting you.”

“I told you they were!” Salto shot back.

“When?” Lennix demanded but the word sounded broken and the beg far too heavy to be anything but. “Had I’d known, I would have done anything to get you out, sworn to secrecy be damned!”

“Let go of me.”

Lennix gave a start, thrown off by the very level, very cold statement. He realized how close he had gotten, could feel the magic that naturally existed in the man’s aura pressing against its bounds to be released.

He realized he was gripping Salto’s upper arms.

It took far more effort to let go now that he could feel the magic rolling beneath Salto’s skin again.

“Sorry,” he offered meekly, taking a step back.

Silence echoed between them and Lennix found his gaze on some point beyond Salto’s shoulder when the other spoke again.

“Two days after the Magnum Incident,” Salto spoke carefully, his voice filling the void of silence between them. “I had told you that I had received a recruitment letter from In-Sight Us.”

Lennix sucked in air between his teeth, this time outwardly flinching back from the words. “Shit,” he pushed past clenched teeth. He forced his wings against his back, running a hand over his face. “I had gotten cornered by Kingsman on my way home.”

“The Kingsman recruited you?” Salto asked and years of villanry had disbelief edging the comment.

Lennix shook his head. “I don’t know why he wanted me but he had bound my tongue. I couldn’t talk about it with anyone, let alone you, so I couldn’t process my thoughts properly.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I had heard In Sights, the eye company you had been looking to get into.”

Something shifted across Salto’s face. “I hadn’t thought about my ophthalmologist training since the day In-Sight Us recruited me.”

Lennix gave a weak, hesitant chuckle. “You had been so passionate about your field and now look at you. Part of the largest collection of villains and head of one of the most honest companies in the world.”

Salto laughed. Lennix caught the watery edge to the sound. “How did we end up like this, Lennix?”

Lennix shook his head. “I don’t know but I’m willing to give this ten year old chat a go if you are.”

Salto snorted at that but the man gestured at the bed. “Might as well put an end to all of this.”

Lennix plopped back down on the edge of the bed as Salto grabbed the desk chair. Lennix’s heart pulled at the familiar sight. “So,” he tried, weighing his words, “where do we start?”

Salto gave him a fond, albeit a bit exasperated, expression. “Where else? The beginning of this whole mess.”

Lennix leaned back on his hands, steeling himself against what was to come. He knew they needed to talk about it but he didn’t care to start there of all places. “The night I cheated, then?”

Salto’s expression closed off at that. “Unfortunately, but that is the oldest of the things we haven’t talked about.”
“Why did you cheat on me?”

He sighed, flopping back awkwardly onto his wings. “I had never wanted to. I truly thought it was you dragging me back here after too many drinks and I hadn’t seen you all month and you had been smelling good and looking good all evening….”

“Certainly you would have noticed the lack of magic.”

He shook his head, expression twisting up in pain and guilt. “I hadn’t. I truly hadn’t and I know that I should have realized it but I didn’t and I still don’t know why.”

Silence bounced around the room only interrupted by the wind that drifted in giggling, whispering about the people outside and how it kept their words private despite the open window.

“You’ve always been able to tell no matter how drunk you got.”

Salto’s words were carefully picked one by one and he could hear the tentative choices Salto was using. It almost sounded like he was trying to piece something together and Lennix sat up, searching the other’s expression for what he heard on the wind.

Salto wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the man was glaring at the corner of the bed in an expression Lennix hadn’t realized he had missed. The man was piecing something together, something that was important. He had seen it a few times as they clashed during their few skirmishes as hero and villain but never had he equated it to being Salto’s expression. He felt his heart twist in his chest.

Damn. He hadn’t gotten over Salto, had he?

Salto’s eyes came up to meet his after a moment, words falling from the man’s lips in a thought process Lennix did not understand. “What do you remember?”

Lennix frowned as he dredged up what remained of that murky night. “I remember the costume party, how I had joked that there were several there dressed as you. You making the offhanded bet that I would be unable to find you among the doppelgangers.” His frowned deepened. “But I had assured you, proved to you time and time again that night that I could and would find you in among the doppelgangers.” He laughed, a smile breaking across his face. “Well, except for the one time that I did it knowingly. You were so pissed, I had to chase you to the backyard and assure you I had been teasing.”

A blush colored Salto’s cheeks and Lennix gripped at the sheets to keep from trying to make that blush spread in such delightful ways. Damn it! He was not supposed to be thinking that right now!

“It hadn’t been funny,” Salto snapped, defensive. He deflated some, curling in on himself, and Lennix felt horrible for even mentioning it. “Five years of loyalty and I still expected you to find someone better.”

There was a flurry of wings and feathers as Lennix moved. Salto sucked in a breath, straightening as Lennix’s hands cupped the man’s face, body curled forward over the man as he hovered his face inches from the other, wings encompassing them both. “You were and still are all that I have ever needed. There will never be someone better than you. No one can match how your magic sings to me like the wind does, thrumming around you as if its bursting to be released, how it courses under your skin in such an intoxicating way. I could never find someone to replace what I’ve become addicted to. You haunt my dreams even after all these years.” Lennix caught sight of Salto’s throat bob as the man swallowed even as his half lidded gaze never left the others. “Even after finding out you were Canis Major this whole time, I felt sorrow instead of anger, grief instead of hatred. I regretted every mark I’ve surely left on your body and your mind. And no matter how much I wish I could course correct us knowing where we are now, there’s nothing I can do to erase what has already happened.”

“Lennix,” Salto breathed but there seemed to be a catch on the word and no more followed.

Lennix gave in and rested his forehead against Salto’s, closing his eyes. “A few short months after I was forced into the ranks of heroes, Kingsman pulled me aside. His words still echo in my ears even to this day.” He opened his eyes and met Salto’s searching gaze steadily. “He told me, ‘What does it mean to be immortal? A long time ago, I was fool enough to think the answer my mission. But the more I searched for the answer, the more I realized that to be immortal is to accept mortality, to live as if the next day will never come and to cherish those you hold dear.’ His words are why I have loved you even when we broke up after my stupid mistake, after the mistakes we both made.” He closed his eyes again, withdrawing enough to shake his head. “I wish I had fought the recruitment, fought becoming a hero. I wish I had thought it through enough to know I needed to resist,” his words stalled and he met Salto’s gaze again even as his heart clenched in his chest, “enough so that I had heard you and the fear you had spoken those words in that quaked the air in a way that makes me fear for you.”

“Lennix,” Salto spoke again with so many emotions, Lennix couldn’t even fathom what Salto was feeling, and the man reached up, gripping Lennix’s wrists in painfully tight holds. He wasn’t pushed away.

“I’m sorry I was such a coward,” Lennix urged. “I didn’t fight for us. I didn’t fight the demons I had seen on your doorstep, and it left me open to a stupid attack.”

Salto shook his head between Lennix’s hands. “You were never responsible for my fights.” The smirk he sent had a watery edge to it. “And I should have sucked it up and let you explain instead of throwing you away and shutting you out. Maybe then we could have avoided all of the pain we had caused each other.” Salto released one of Lennix’s wrists to run careful fingers over a ragged scar on the side of his neck barely hidden by the collar of his jacket. Salto’s fingers traced it, knowing how it cut across Lennix’s skin from having been the cause of it. “I have harmed you more than you have harmed me. Why you still take full responsibility for all the bullshit is beyond me.”

Lennix laughed as an endearing smile graced Salto’s face. “Old habits die hard, it would seem.”

Salto gave a breathy chuckle at that, meeting his gaze again. That hand tracing the scar moved to his cheek. For a moment, Lennix watched Salto’s gaze track his own thumb rubbing against Lennix’s cheek. He shifted closer, gaining Salto’s attention once more.

“Can we try again?” he asked in a breath, lips a breath away from Salto’s.

He felt Salto recoil but the man did not move in his touch. “There will be hell to pay from the factions. Besides, we’ve changed so much. How could we go back to how things were?”

“I don’t want to go back to the beginning,” Lennix confessed. He felt Salto suck in the breath as the other’s eyes grew wide. “I want to start over, start with who we are now and see if we are still as madly in love as we had been the first time we started out.”

Salto gave a wry chuckle. “I wouldn’t have called that 'madly in love’. More of pitiful endearment.”

Lennix grinned. “Potatoes, tomatoes.”

Salto’s face screwed up in disgust at that. “That is not even-”

Lennix brought their lips together, his hold barely on the other so that he was not trapping Salto there. As much as he wanted to try again, to learn about this man all over again, he didn’t have it in him to force the other to try again too.

A breath, a moment for the brain to register what was going on, and suddenly Salto was pressed against him, taking over the kiss and eradicating any thought that Lennix had. When they finally pulled apart, they were sharing chaste kisses with Lennix’s back against the mattress and Salto’s weight against him. His fingers traced unfamiliar lines under clothing, a part of him mourning the years he had missed with this man.

“Are you sure you want to try dating a supervillain?” Salto uttered against his neck.

Lennix wrapped his arms around the other, pressing his face into the side of Salto’s neck. “I may attempt to sway your ways.”

Salto chuckled at that but it lacked any luster to it. “I can’t make any promises it’ll work.” There was a lull in Salto’s words and it weighted on Lennix. “I’m in too deep now to turn things around.”

“Alone, probably, but you’re not alone now and won’t be for as long as you’ll put up with me again.”

Salto pushed himself up enough to look down at him and Lennix met his gaze without hesitation. “You do realize this will be a fight that we can’t win, right?”

Lennix smiled. “No more a fight than the one we faced as gifted children.” He cupped Salto’s face. “We’ll make it through this with a few more scars but we’ll live through it one way or the other.”

Something chirruped, cutting through the moment. Salto shifted about as Lennix assumed it was the man’s phone. He didn’t have any sort of chime for any of his notifications, superhero or otherwise.

“Shit,” the man hissed, getting up.

“You being called in?” Lennix asked, sitting up as Salto pulled an object from an inner pocket. He could see it well enough to recognize the old gift. It warmed his heart to see Salto still utilizing the trinket after all these years.

“Unfortunately,” Salto confirmed, pouring magic into the trinket. It behaved as any wand would, guiding and directing Salto’s burning magic into the purpose Salto urged it to become and his entire attire changed to the familiar outfit of Canis Major. It sent a thrill of unease and worry through him. Salto looked at him, an uneasy expression on the other’s face. “I can drop you off at your home, if you want. This may not be the safest thing for you to come to.”

Lennix got up, shaking his head. “I’m not letting you go into this alone, villains be damned.”

Salto chuckled. Lennix shuddered under the touch of the other’s magic, a thrill racing down his spine at the familiar sensation. Even after so many years, Salto’s magic still felt the same. “That will at least make it less likely anyone will call you Swallow.”

He opened his eyes, taking in Salto’s pleased expression before bringing his wings about to look at them. They didn’t feel or behave differently but they certainly looked different. He realized the only thing Salto had truly changed was the coloring and the only visual change on the smaller feathers seemed to be an illusion. He crossed to the bathroom as Salto’s words followed him.

“It should be enough that no one asks any questions.”

The mirror revealed that Salto had even changed his attire into an outfit that spoke neither of superhero or -villain. The mask that he barely even noticed obscured the majority of his face and hid all of his hair beneath a veil of feathers the same color as his newly recolored wings. No one would be able to tell it was him under it.

“I changed your hair as well, just in case.” He looked to Salto, finding the man leaning against the doorframe in a show of ease. The way the words tumbled in the air spoke of how it was a charade. “As much as it goes against my 'villain’ nature, I don’t want you to be found out.”

Lennix smiled gently and crossed over to Salto. He gave the man a soft kiss, offering against the other’s lips, “I trust you.” He pulled away enough to take in Salto’s full expression. “Let’s go.”

Salto nodded and stepped away. He crossed to the front door and held the trinket up to the door. it flashed as the man’s office door had and Lennix followed him through without hesitation as Salto let magic make his hair dance like fire on his head.

They stepped out into an area Lennix did not recognize. It was foggy and the only real significant thing about the brown landscape was the stick of a tree with a curved trunk and a branch that looked broken.
He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Canis Major.”

Lennix turned, unconsciously mimicking Salto’s disposition as he shifted his stance and held himself tall. Standing not far off was three of the highest villains in In-Sight Us. The one that had spoken he knew only by the name of Unknown. He hid his wings shifting outward in a show of fear by shifting his weight and tipping his head to the other side. He hoped it looked like a ploy of boredom.

“Uknown,” Salto greeted, his voice turned course by magic. Lennix managed to hide that shudder. “I thought Brazen had called the summons.”

Lennix looked to Salto. He was joking, right? Blazen was one of the founders of In-Sight Us and was at the top of every Most Wanted list world wide for a reason. Why the bloody hell had Salto let him come?

“I sent it,” the one on Uknown’s left spoke. If Lennix was remembering right, they were a newer villain, only two years in the business, and making a name for themself despite the low casualty counts. Bright, a supervillain whose ability resided in creating and vanishing light. He hadn’t ever had to fight them but he knew of them. Kingsman had wanted to recruit them but In-Sight Us had gotten to them first. “Brazen doesn’t know we’re here nor that it had been sent.”

“It was imperative that you brought your companion,” the one on Unknown’s right commented. Seer, the eldest in In-Sight Us, and one that was known by all heroes but never seen. Rumors had it Seer had some sort of foresight. No one could confirm if it was actual future sight or not. No one could confirm either if Seer had become one of highest villains out of villainy or the information supplied by the ability.

“So we’re safe to talk, then?”

Lennix’s gaze went to Salto and he found the man looking at Seer.

Seer nodded.

Salto relaxed and the magic that had been making his hair dance was suppressed. “Good. Then let us chat freely.”

Lennix backpedaled at the sudden appearance of Unknown in front of him. His wings spread at the surprise, working to help keep his balance as he tripped on the brown foliage. “So who’s your friend, Canis?” Unknown asked and the wind told him they were grinning beneath the faceless mask.

“And why should I tell you?” Salto cut in, his voice hard.

Unknown’s masked face turned to look at Salto. “Because I would rather not waste time on them if they aren’t important to you.”

Salto bristled at that but it was Seer who spoke up. “Leave the Swallow alone, Una. It is not kind to crowd when you are still unknown.”

Lennix slowly folded his wings back in as Unknown went from looking at Seer to him. “So you’re the famous Swallow?”

Lennix glanced at Salto. His unasked question was answered when he felt the spell leave his person. He felt his wings twitch at being exposed in front of villains ranked higher than he would ever hope to match. “I’m not so sure about the famous part,” he finally amended.

“Brazen has you on his radar.”

Lennix’s gaze snapped to Bright, eyes wide as he felt the color drain from his face. “Why?” he choked out.

Bright shrugged. “Kingsman recruited you personally. That would draw anyone’s attention to you.”

“It’s why you’re famous,” Unknown explained. He looked back at that faceless mask. “The entire world is watching you, wondering why Kingsman personally recruited a juvenile aviary when there were hundreds of thousands of aviary to choose from.”

“I wasn’t that young,” he tried to defend, overwhelmed by the realization that he was in a unique situation, one that was spelling out his death letter by letter.

“You were young in the realm of knowledge.” He turned his gaze to Seer, lost in the growing turmoil. “You had yet to have a family, you had yet to live life. There were a many a aviary that had gone to battle in wars and against villains that it was bizarre that Kingsman chose to personally recruit an aviary that had never witnessed such things after the Magnum Incident. Recruitment for both sides were at their highest, both sides trying to get as many powerful people as they could to keep the line moving in the direction they wanted. But where In-Sight Us recruits anyone with an ability and willing to become a goon, Heroes Unite was selective in who they deemed as heroes and those they deemed as support. They guided those that were not powerful or far too kind or far too harsh into sectors that needed them: first response, collateral control, evacuation. We gained a number from Heroes Unite because of such a system but because of it, Heroes Unite is a force far greater than In-Sight Us could ever imagine of equaling. That is why when the head of Heroes Unite, the founder of the leading hero organization, personally recruited an aviary still wet behind the ears, the world watched and kept watching. Your ten years of service have proven that Kingsman’s choice was not in vain but no one has seen anything as to the reason why.”

Lennix ran a shaking hand through his hair. He knew a good chunk of that information, knew how the two factions worked even if it was just the basics, but he had lacked the chance to think on what it meant that Kingsman had come after him. He had assumed it wasn’t uncommon. The man started Heroes Unite. He had to have done recruiting personally in the beginning, right?

But it explained why he had wanted to keep Salto out of all of it, why he kept his mouth shut despite the urge to go against the oath he had given Kingsman. He had known on some level of the target on his back. Now he knew the size of it and fathomed he still didn’t see how big it truly was.

“So why am I important in all this?” Lennix asked, bringing his gaze back to Seer.

“You are important. That is all I know.”

Lennix looked to Salto but Salto was talking in soft whispers with Unknown. There was no wind to carry their words to him. Their conversation ended shortly after he looked their way.

“Are we going to be able to take down In-Sight Us?” Salto asked as he straightened.

Unknown traipsed back to the other two as Seer answered. “Brazen will be a challenge that you may die against.”

Salto waved off the comment. “What is coming is far worse than my own mortality. I do not want to start this with not knowing if we have the best chance of changing things for the better.”

“How long have you been planning on taking down In-Sight Us from the inside?” Lennix cut in, bewildered.

Salto looked at him. “Since I was inducted into the organization. I never wanted to be a villain and there are many others who regret the decision as well. Not all, sadly, but many.”

“The only things we have left to do is to make sure there is a system that helps reform those that enjoy this line of work that works,” Unknown interjected. “We cannot leave it to chance that they will start up a new villain organization when In-Sight Us falls.”

Lennix shook his head. “You can’t manage that. There will always be villains in the word.”

“True,” Salto agreed, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t give it our all. Even the worst of us change.”

“Even Brazen?”

“Brazen and Kingsman grew up as brothers,” Seer supplied and Lennix found himself staring at them. “They had originally wanted to help the world together and had good intentions on both sides, but even Kingsman is not unaffected by the world. There is a manic sort of edge to Kingsman if you truly look and Brazen had not always wanted death for all. It is not hard to find the information if you know what to look for.”

“What changed it?” he found himself asking.

“Death did,” Unknown spoke, taking over. “The two of them saw the worst of human kind and were tainted by it, but where one saw the need to save, the other saw the need to eradicate. But do not be quick to assume which one believes which. Even Kingsman wants to eradicate a part of the populous and Brazen wants to save a part as well. Otherwise Kingsman would not have created Heroes Unite as he had and Brazen would not have created In-Sight Us to begin with. Kingsman sees those in the hero ranks as nothing more than pawns as of late.” There was a pause that left him feeling like Unknown was staring him down, searching for the secrets in his soul. “You’ve seen it, been subjected to it, correct?”

Lennix nodded slowly.

“We best get going,” Seer suddenly interjected. “Canis Major, be careful with Swallow.”

“Of course, Seer,” Salto assured.

“Keep in touch, Swallow,” Unknown chimed, saluting as the three of them simply vanished.

“How am I supposed to do that?” he asked the wind. It laughed at him.

“Let’s get you home,” Salto spoke, coming up to Lennix’s side. “It isn’t wise to stay here for too long.”

Lennix nodded Salto took hold of the random door’s door handle. Even though he knew it hadn’t been there a moment ago, it looked like it had always been there and belonged there not attached to anything. The door opened up to his front entrance and he stepped into his home.

Salto closed the door, looking around. “I didn’t realize you had settled down.”

“I hadn’t had much of a choice when my sister passed away,” Lennix explained, crossing down the long hallway towards the back of the house. The hallway was only distinguishable from the living room area and the subsequent dining area by a few polls left over from the wall his sister had taken down and the way the furniture was arranged. The open floor plan helped him not feel so caged but he didn’t like having the big house to himself. Well, not just himself.

He stepped out onto the back deck, down the steps and into the yard beyond. He let out a whistle as the shifting air told him Salto had followed him. “I wasn’t about to keep North in an apartment.”

“North?” Salto parroted.

“North Star, Patricia’s dog,” he explained, looking to Salto. “German shepherd you used to call ‘annoying dog’ and 'useless mutt’ even as you loved all over him.”

Salto gave him a look. “His name was North? Since when?”

Lennix rolled his eyes with a smile as the wind told him North was coming. Looking back towards the seemingly boundless backyard, he watched North come walking back looking tired but happy to see him. He squat down, letting the large dog press his head into his shoulder. Lennix rubbed at North’s shoulders, a sad smile on his face. “Patricia had written up her will about a year before she passed away when her husband and their children had been taken in a nasty car accident. Before then, she had trusted Scott to handle everything should the cancer take her sooner but at that point….”

The wind rolled around them, gleeful and carefree as it told him what was around. It didn’t tell him Salto moved. It didn’t warn him of Salto’s touch. Still, he leaned back into the other’s leg as Salto’s fingers ran comfortingly through his hair. “I’m sorry. I had thought that not staying in touch with her was the better option.”

He closed his eyes. He felt North sit so close, the dog was practically laying against his chest. “She had hated you up until she was diagnosed with cancer two years later. She managed to fight it and overcome it but then the accident happened and it came back with a vengeance. She passed away peacefully three years ago but it hit the family pretty hard, North included.”
He opened his eyes. “She told me a few months before she passed that she was glad you didn’t know anything. She thought that it was for the better that you were left without the burden of having to watch her suffer and left with the memories of her being happy and healthy with her husband and children.”

“I would have preferred to have gotten to say goodbye, though,” Salto choked out and Lennix fought the sudden welling of tears as he swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Why had I been so stubborn?”

“I never got the chance to say goodbye to my niece and nephew,” he offered lamely, trying - and failing - to deny the emotions trying to drown him. “They were all dead by the time help arrived.”

Salto’s hand clenched in his hair and he welcomed the pinpricks of pain from his hair being pulled. It helped against the tears, or so he told himself. “How had they died? Drunk driver? Icy roads?”

“Casualty of a villain battle.” Salto stiffened under him but he didn’t give him the chance to dwell on it. “Trigger was thrown onto the highway where he and Celestial went at it. Cars occupied and not were thrown this way and that with chunks of concrete.”

A strange stillness settled over Salto. The man’s body hadn’t changed but his magic had, stilling in a way that left Lennix fretting. But before he could ask anything, Salto was speaking. “You were there.”

Lennix closed his eyes again, the burning tears making it impossible to see anyways. North started to slowly lick his palm. “Yes,” he finally admitted after a long pause, the wind letting him know he was crying by cooling the wet streaks on his face. “Sprite and I were only a few seconds behind them. We immediately went into evacuation and rescue mode but we were ill equipped and already things were flying. The best we could do was stop other vehicles from being smashed. We caught a bus between the two of us but a shipper from some random semi got past our notice and demolished a few vehicles. I found out later that the car that had been completely smashed had been my brother-in-law’s.”

Salto crumpled behind him and Lennix moved to let the man have his own weight only to find Salto had wrapped himself around Lennix’s shoulders, wet face pressed into his neck. “I’m so sorry.” The grip around him tightened. “I’m….so sorry.”

He choked on the sob that ripped itself from him and he tried to fight the ones that followed to no avail. Years of grief he had thought he had handled just fine came rushing back and it was all he could do not to shatter in Salto’s arms.

He felt drained when he finally stopped crying. Too lethargic to care, he was surprised when Salto clambered to his feet. The other offered him a hand as North got up as well. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Lennix took Salto’s hand.

When he awoke the following morning, it was to foggy memories of what had happened the night before. He knew that he had told Salto of the deaths in his family since they had last seen each other, knew that Salto had made them food and gotten him in bed, but he couldn’t remember any details, if anything else had happened, or actually living through it.

He pushed himself upright, rubbing at his face. He wasn’t as exhausted as he had half expected. He looked to the other side of the bed when he heard shifting.

Salto was still asleep next to him, face appearing younger in sleep. Faint scars were stark on the other’s skin, each telling a story. He traced the few he knew he had placed on that perfect form, letting himself remember how he had given them, and followed his fingers with his lips, kissing apologies to each one.

“Sap.”

He all but smiled against Salto’s skin at the groggy, snide comment and offered in reply, “Can’t help it. Last I checked, though, you’re the one that turned me into a sap.”

Salto rolled onto his back, exposing a bare chest that had more scars than the other side did. He traced a nasty one, trying to remember if he had done it or not.

“Celestial, four years ago.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. He kissed it, grateful it hadn’t been fatal.

Salto’s hand found his hair. Lennix leaned into the touch even as he kissed another scar.

Both of their phones went off.

Lennix straightened as Salto sat up. Confusion pulled at his face as he reached over and picked his up. He heard Salto grab his.

For a long moment, there was silence between them as they both stared at their screens. When the words couldn’t stick any more, Lennix brought his gaze up to meet Salto’s finding his own confusion reflected in the other’s frown. He opened and closed his mouth but the words were stuck in his throat. He tried to say anything.

“What do we do?”

The words were weak, thick with conflicted emotions, and Salto looked down at his phone. “We do what we have to.”

“But I don’t want to fight you,” Lennix confessed, the words no stronger than the last.

Salto kissed him. “And you won’t. I’m not going in to respond to Brazen’s summons. I’m going in to help make sure as few people as possible lose their lives in this folly.”

Lennix shook his head. “Kingsman’s going to expect me on the front lines.”

The smile Salto sent him eased some of his worries. “Then I’ll watch your back as I get people out of there.”

Lennix nodded feeling lost still but not alone. He got out of bed with Salto and dressed as the other used his magic to change. In 15 minutes, they were dressed in their respective outfits standing at Lennix’s bedroom door.

“What color do you want to paint the room?”

“Hmm?” Salto responded as the door flashed.

“The bedroom,” Lennix explained. He knew it was weird but he was desperate. “I don’t care for the color but I’ve never settled on one to repaint it with. When we get back, do you want to go look at paint colors?”

Salto paused with his hand on the doorknob. A beat and then Salto was looking back at him with a soft smile. “We’re going to be ok, Lennix.”

He tried to give Salto a flat look but he was sure his uncertainty was showing. “I know that. Why do you think I’m trying to make plans for when this whole fiasco is over?”

Salto chuckled, kissing him briefly. “I would love to go looking at paint with you,” he replied. “The kitchen needs to be repainted anyways.”

Lennix beamed because, if nothing else, that meant Salto was going to be around long enough that the kitchen paint was going to annoy him to no end.

The door opened onto a battlefield in the middle of a metropolis. The wind brought him screams and sirens, cries of anguish and pain, shouts for loved ones and against antagonizers. It brought to him the shouts in battle, the rippling of powers beings used, and the sound of movement.

He beat his wings against the air, ending the stream of sounds for a moment.

“Be careful out there. Brazen’s in this battle and may be looking to end things,” Salto warned him.

Lennix nodded. “You too. The other heroes may not hesitate to take a shot at you.”

As if to make a point, something solid and fast slammed into Salto. Lennix spun on the ball of his foot to face the attacker only to find himself facing down Brazen himself.

“Well, well, well,” the older man drawled, a feral grin on his face. “Look what the witch dragged in; a postal owl. Here to take my letter to Kingsman, pigeon?”

He shifted into a better stance, his feet scraping gravel across the pavement. “I’d rather not, thanks,” he shot back even as terror pulsed through him.

Brazen chuckled. “Pity.” The man glared at him while the grin only grew. “You don’t have a choice.”

Pain.

White hot pain.

All he knew was the burning, white hot pain and a weird echo in his being, like the wind telling him someone was screaming but refusing to tell him who. A flare of pain and suddenly he was face down on the cold, rough pavement as Brazen’s hands seared right through his wings near the shoulders. He screamed and screamed some more. Another flare of pain and it vanished, leaving him cold, worn, and twitching. There was noise and he could feel the wind.

He couldn’t hear the wind.

He choked on a sob.

He couldn’t hear the wind.

Something searing hot grabbed his head, ripping a scream from his throat as he was pulled off the ground. Something was talking in his ear and pain from his back made him twitch. He forced one eye open.

Why was Salto behind restrained?

He opened his other eye despite the pain he was in.

Why was Salto crying? Screaming, even?

Pain erupted within him. It was so much that he couldn’t even tell where it came from as he blacked out.

When he came to, it was to the wind’s gentle caress urging him awake. He wasn’t sure why it was waking him. He was in too much pain to even believe he had a chance to live, not to mention a life without wings terrified him. Still, he used what energy he had to open his eyes.

The view was sideways. He was laying on the broken street looking down the main thoroughfare void of the crowds.

Instead, he saw Salto standing where Lennix had last seen him and even as his eyes fell closed again, the image was seared into his brain.

Now he knew why he had been so vital, why Kingsman got to him before Brazen could, why Seer had said that he was important.

The image seared into his dying mind was that of Salto hovering a few feet of the ground arched slightly backwards with his arms spread at his side as destructive magic poured out of him in a tangle of colors.

Salto’s face had been in a scream, the tears rising off his cheeks with the magic that poured out of him, coloring those beautiful eyes with pure light.

He woke to the wind’s gentle caress. He blinked and sat up, finding himself not where he had last been and certainly not where he would have thought he would have been instead. Getting up, he crossed to the curtains and threw them open.

It was still early morning, meaning the mountain forest view was still thick with fog and dark against the brightening sky.

He jumped when something brushed against his arm and he spun only to find the thing that had brushed his arm was a wing. His wing. He stumbled over his own feet to get to the bathroom. He used the bathroom sink to keep himself upright as he stared into the mirror.

His wings were there and looked undamaged. He stretched them this way and that and found that they felt as great as they had always been, as if what he had experienced had been nothing more than a dream.

He grabbed at his shirt frantically.

The scar was still violently red raw but it was healed and with no pain. He shuddered at the memory of Brazen burying his hand in his gut, burning him alive from the inside.

Out of the pain and anguish, he really could remember the battle clearly. He hadn’t had a chance and never imagined he would. He shuddered at the reminder of the horrors he had gone through but he was still baffled. How was he alive, let alone with wings once more? Brazen had taken them from him, had removed them by his own hand burning through flesh and bone.

He wandered back into the bedroom, looking around.

There was no sign of Salto anywhere. He turned to check the rest of the house when he realized the paint color was different.

Tears surged to his eyes and they burned as he swallowed them down. No, he was not going to think that. Not until he checked.

There was the sound of something fluttering and the mostly still air moved enough to tell him to turn around.

A letter rested on his pillow perfectly centered and looking strangely out of place.

He moved to pick it up.

The door behind him opened, startling a scream out of him.

“Holy-don’t do that!”

Lennix stared at Salto as the man stood in the doorway, a tray clenched between a pair of shaking hands. Color had rushed the other’s face in a show of fury and Lennix found he couldn’t keep himself upright anymore.

“Lennix!”

Familiar hands caught him before he collapsed to the ground and he grabbed at the other, pulling him close and sucking in a deep breath of the smell that clung to Salto that was all his own. He pressed his forehead to the other’s neck, seeking and finding the familiar thrum of magic beneath Salto’s skin.

“For a moment, I thought-”

Lennix cut his own words off and he felt Salto tighten his hold. It was weird. He knew this was Salto but there wasn’t the feeling of magic desperately fighting against an invisible barrier in Salto’s aura. It was calmer, soothing even, with the same thrum of energy that ran through Salto’s veins.

“I had, for a moment,” Salto confessed, fingers curling into the back of Lennix’s shirt. “When he dropped you with that hole in your chest, I thought you had died and a part of me died with you in that moment. Something within me snapped and I felt like I was dying, dying because you weren’t there to try again, you weren’t there to think about how your day may be going.” Lennix felt him choke on the next words and still push through. “Because you weren’t there to go paint shopping anymore after you had planned the stupid trip.”

“But I’m alive,” Lennix reminded him, even as his confusion on the matter spilled into the words.

Salto’s laugh came out watery and sorrow filled. “Just barely. When I finally came back to myself, it was because Brazen had gotten through whatever storm I was creating with my magic and punched me in the face. I don’t know how that knocked the senses back into me, but it worked. I was suddenly focused, pissed, and with magic at a level I had never thought possible. I was able to take Brazen down, ending it all by ridding him of his ability and altering his memory in a way I hadn’t even known existed.” Salto took in a shuddering breath. “Kingsman had shown up at some point and had brought along a healer that was keeping you alive. When Kingsman came and gathered Brazen up in a tight hug, I went to your side. There was still so much damage but I could fix it. I could feel it in my soul that I could repair all of it. So I did. Your wings were reattached but still had burn scars and the wound in your chest wasn’t threatening your life when I was stopped. Had I gone on, I would have killed myself and I hadn’t even realized it till Kingsman grabbed my arm and broke my concentration. I was hospitalized after that to make sure that there weren’t any serious repercussions beyond magical exhaustion.”

Lennix doubted that was all Salto had been hospitalized for but let it be as he pulled back and cupped the other’s face. He offered the other an encouraging smile. “You did amazing, Salto. I’m so proud of you.”

Salto gave him a tight smile that didn’t even reach his eyes. “You say that but you’ve been in a coma for five weeks. I painted the whole house just waiting for you to wake up.”

Lennix laughed at that. Salto let out a manic sort of chuckle but it was enough and Salto relaxed as the chuckle turned into a proper laugh. “I can’t believe I painted the whole house. And It wasn’t even with magic. It was like I was suddenly possessed to repaint every room in the house and then some by hand. Did all of it in a week.”

“Did you sleep?” Lennix squawked in worry.

That seemed to rid Salto of the last of the manic for now as he laughed. “Not a wink,” he stated proudly with a grin. “I crashed when I couldn’t see straight anymore and ate when North bugged me for food.” The grin softened into a smile, running a hand through Lennix’s hair. “And, honestly? It was the best thing I could have done. It calmed me down, let me feel productive and successful, and let me get on with everything else that needed tending to afterwards.”

Lennix shook his head even as a chuckle bubbled out of him. “At least you seemed to have picked colors I like. This room’s not a horrible orange color like I feared you might pick.”

The smacking was totally worth it.

“So why didn’t I wake up at the hospital?”

“You did.” Salto placed the plate of light food on the table before him. “But it would seem that you hadn’t come fully out of it, though you had seemed rather coherent. You recognized me, said my name, and had even asked the doctor to send you home.” Salto tapped his fork against his plate. “I’m honestly surprised you don’t remember it.”

Lennix shrugged, scooping up a bite. “What happened to Brazen?”

“I’m not sure. Kingsman asked me to rid him of his ability too, saying something about wanting to be on Brazen’s level and live the normal life they had both been robbed.”

Lennix let that sink in as he ate a few bites. “And the public?”

“They believe that the two of them finished each other off in a final showdown and that the rest of the fighting had petered out on its own. Unknown has contacted me a few times since letting me know that In-Sight Us was being taken down from the inside out. As of yesterday, In-Sight Us no longer exists.”

Lennix stared at Salto. “Seriously?”

Salto nodded. “Seer says it’ll be a few more weeks before Heroes Unite disbands under the radar as well out of no longer being needed.”

Lennix looked back down at his plate. “Then, it’s over.”

“Seems like it.”

Lennix snapped his gaze up, blurting, “Do you want to move in?”

Salto choked on his bite and despite the ranting that followed suit, Salto said yes.

[ArtisticVicu]

Birthday Wish
Prompt:
For your eleventh birthday, you wish for your your biggest, deepest desire to come true. The next day, your house has burnt down.

As a warning now: there is strong and hate language, child abuse, and traumatic events. Please read with caution.

It was all ruined.

Huddled in the closet trying to stifle his sobs, he pressed his hands harder against his ears praying he would get swallowed by the fabric within. But no matter how hard he pressed his hands to his ears, he could still hear them screaming at each other. He wasn’t sure if one or both of them were drunk this time and, honestly, he didn’t care. He didn’t care!

He choked on another sob.

The floor outside the closet creaked and he sucked in a breath. His hands went to his mouth as he stared at the door, waiting, waiting.

“Z?”

It was nothing more than a soft whisper barely heard above the fighting outside his room. He straightened. “Mark?” he called out, his voice cracking around the words, the pitch wrong to his ears - it had always been wrong in his ears.

The closet door open enough for his older brother to slip in. The noise cut through and he curled away from it again, burying himself further into the pink and frills around him.

Mark sat so close, theirs knees brushed each other. But instead of being dark like before, he found Mark had brought in a few candles.

The two candles shaped like the number one were situated on top of a rather sad looking piece of cake. The third was one of the candles from the living room meant only for light.

“Sorry your party was ruined,” Mark spoke, his voice still low but no longer hard to hear. “I saved what I could of the cake.”

He shook his head, stubborn. “I don’t want it anymore.”

Mark’s face twisted in a way he didn’t understand. “I know, sis. But it seemed wrong for you to go without being able to make your birthday wish.”

He scrunched up his face. “That’s all pretend. They never come true.”

A tight smile pulled at Mark’s face and he thought his brother looked sadder like that. “Make the wish for me, then? Wish for whatever you want. Could be your deepest desire, even.”

He frowned but a part of him saw the joy that split the sad expression his brother wore. Clenching at his shirt, he gave a nod. Mark placed the plate between them, tucking the other candle out of the way, He watched his brother move things about in the back, patient as Mark made sure nothing would catch from the candle’s flame.

“Can I sing to you?”

He felt his ears burn but the light and excitement in his brother’s face made it impossible for him to deny him. “If you want,” he grumbled, hunkering in on himself.

Mark reached out and with a careful hand cupped the back of his head and brought their forehead together over the cake and its two candles. Softly, as the heat of the candles brushed against his face, his brother sang.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear sibling mine. Happy birthday to you.”

The urge to cry again came back ten fold and it was all he could do to swallow around the lump in his throat as he pulled away. The flames were blurry, the candles dancing like the flames had been, and it was with a deep breath that he begged for his wish - his deepest desire as his loving brother had put it - to be granted. He didn’t care what it was. As long as it was better than where they were at now.

The closet door flew open.

“The fuck you doing in there with her!”

He screamed as Mark moved between him and their dad. Sobs choked him and slowed him but it didn’t stop the man’s sharp words from cutting through the scramble.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, faggot? I thought I told you to leave and never come back!”

“I wasn’t about to let you two ruin another birthday,” Mark spat back.

The punch caught Mark in the jaw but it seemed to barely phase Mark as he found his brother’s eyes flickering to him even as his brother threw a punch that missed and sent a kick that was blocked. “Run, Susie! Jason’s outside waiting!”

Another punch caught Mark’s other cheek, throwing the young man into the closet. He screamed as he scrambled away from the fray but a large hand wrapped around his upper arm, squeezing so hard that it was a wonder his bones didn’t just snap.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going!?”

“Leave her alone!”

His mom was his saving light but only for the instant it allowed him to break free. The woman caught him by his hair, keeping him from making it to the door.

“No! You are grounded, young lady. You do not get to leave this room.”

“No!” he screamed. His kicked and hit his mom but she was bigger than him and had a better hold. With swift movements, he found himself face first on his hated pink comforter, the smiling fruits and fairies mocking him as his mom pinned him in place.

“Get off!”

The grip on his hair tugged his head up before vanishing. Arms wrapped around him and for a moment, he panicked. But then his brother’s scent - fresh, clean, and free of any booze or smoke - washed over him and he clung with all his might to the young man carrying him.

They didn’t get far.

A shot rang out and he screamed. He didn’t mean to, hadn’t even wanted to, and some part of him wondered if the hand on the back of his head was to keep him from looking or reprimand for screaming.

“You and her are not going anywhere, faggot. Basement. Now.”

He whimpered, curling more into his brother. He didn’t want to go down in the basement. It was always dark and scary and now it was going to be worse because he and Mark were going to be trapped down there forever.

“I’ve got you,” his brother softly whispered as the basement stairs creaked under foot. “I’ve got you.”

“Faster!”

The world pitched forward before rolling around him. There were sharp thuds and jarring movements till it all stopped abruptly. Mark groaned around him. His hands - why did his hands have to be so small - grabbed at Mark’s shirt as he begged, “Mark? Mark, are you ok? Please be ok. Please be ok, Mark.”

“I’m fine,” Mark finally ground out, the words lulled together but Mark’s expression was quickly looking more determined than dazed. “Are you ok?”

He nodded, pressing his face against Mark’s collarbone as the basement stairs creaked.

“Damn. Couldn’t die on the way down. Got to make it difficult, don’t you, faggot? Like a cockroach.”

Mark didn’t respond. Instead, he got to his feet. “So. What now, Dad?”

“I’m not your father, boy. No son of mine would ever turn out to be a faggot like you.”

Mark scoffed. “Pity. Would have done this family some good if you had been open to it.”

“Shut up and hand her over before you corrupt her with your gay.”

Mark laughed and he flinched. It was sharp, hard, and not like anything he had heard before. “You’re crazy if you think I’m handing anyone over to you, let alone my little sibling.”

“Hand her over now or so help me I will make sure this bullet goes through the both of you.”

Mark’s arms tightened around him the same time those words registered in his head. Terror flashed through him and it was all he knew. He kicked, he screamed, he cried till his world suddenly snapped into clarity, his right cheek burning.

Just as suddenly, his dad was in his face, gun pointed like the man would point a finger. “Make another sound and I blow his brains out.”

He clamped his hands over his mouth, choking on who knew what as the man stepped away.

“Now, what are we going to do with you?”

He focused on his brother and whimpered behind his hands. There was blood on his brother’s face, one arm, and chest. He looked horrible but Mark’s eyes were clear as they locked onto him.

“Z, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

His brother kept talking. “Z, I need you to close your eyes and cover your ears. You block it all out till help arrives, ok? Can you do that for me, Z?”

“Shut up, already!”

The man smacked Mark across the face with the gun but those sharp eyes snapped back to him. “Close your eyes and cover your ears. It’ll be ok.”

“Stop talking!”

Another punch to the face. Another unwavering gaze. “Do it, Z.”

A kick to the gut. A flinch but the gaze came back steady. “For me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he brought his knees up to hide his face, hands pressing into his ears so hard, it hurt. He could still hear, though, so he started humming.

He wasn’t sure what it was but it was noise enough.

It was starting to get warm.

For a brief moment, he thought he heard Mark calling for him. He almost looked up but his brother had told him to block everything out, so he kept at it.

Why was it getting hard to breathe?

“Z!”

He jerked back from the hands grabbing him. The room was dark and what he could make out wasn’t making sense. All he knew, though, was that the person grabbing him wasn’t Mark.

But it wasn’t his dad, either.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” the stranger urged, voice muffled by the strange thing on their face. “Just stay still and keep your face hidden.”

He nodded, burying himself into the stranger’s hold and waiting for it to all be over.

“Z!”

His head came up despite the stranger’s orders as cold air made him shiver. He watched Mark break away from the strangers he had been with and come running over.

“Mark!” he called out, throwing his arms to his brother to the point of nearly knocking himself out of the stranger’s hold.

Mark was there, though, scooping him out of the stranger’s arms into a bear hug. He sobbed into his brother’s neck, clinging in the desperate hope of never being separated again.

“Hey there, kiddo,” came a familiar, gruff voice. He peaked up to look at Jason. The young man offered him a tight smile, tears streaming down dusty cheeks. One of Jason’s large hands buried itself in his hair. “You hangin’ in there?”

He nodded as the stranger that had brought him to safety came over. “We need to get you both to the hospital. Especially her. There was quite a bit of smoke down there.”

“Is it ok if I drive them?” Jason cut in, his voice unusually small.

Mark’s voice filled in the space right behind Jason’s. “I would feel better if he drove us.”

“Let the paramedic check her over first. As long as they say she’s in no immediate danger, that’s fine, but it’s best to go straight to the ER as soon as they give the go ahead.”

He felt Mark relax around him. “Thank you.”

After that, everything else was a blur of noise and colors. By the time everything seemed to stop, they were alone in a white room. Jason had one of the chairs occupied while he sat in Mark’s lap on the medical bed. He must have fallen asleep because he woke to the sound of someone knocking.

“Mark Tenner?”

“That’s me,” his brother confirmed, the young man’s voice rumbling through him. “What can we help you with, Officer Briggins?”

“Oh, good. You’re all here. That will make this easier. I need to ask your sister some questions, if she’s feeling up to it, and then I also have the information on the fire from the fire department.”

Mark moved about underneath him and he brought his head up. He was so tired.

“Z? This is Officer Briggins. Can he ask you a few things?”

He nodded, leaning against his brother again.

“Suzie?” Habitually, he looked to the officer upon the sound of his name. He hated that name. “I’m going to ask five questions. I want you to give me as much information as you can, ok?”

He nodded.

The officer left after what felt like an eternity. Half asleep against his brother’s chest, he listened to the other two talk.

“All gone.”

Mark hummed an affirmation. “Good riddance to it, too. What time is it? I can’t see the clock from here?”

There was a pause before Jason replied, “3:04.”

“Will you be ok driving us home?”

“You won’t sleep for the ride so I’m not worried about it. Besides, I’ve got enough adrenaline running through me to keep me up for the next week.”

Mark huffed a laugh. “I hear ya on that.”

He shifted, gingerly pressing his face against the bandage wrapped around Mark’s shoulder. “You going to be ok?” he muttered.

Mark’s hand carded through his hair. “Yeah.You’ll see. I’ll be chasing you around in no time.”

“Even with the things he did?”

Mark’s arms tightened around him. “Z, that man can’t harm either of us anymore, ok? You can’t go back and I wouldn’t let you even if you could. You’ll come live with Jason and me and we’ll get through this. I promise.”

“As long as I don’t have a pink bed again,” he whined and the others laughed.

“Don’t worry, Z. You can have whatever kind of bed you want. It might just take some time getting, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Come on, Zack! Smile!” He made another face and she smacked him. “Zack, come on. It’s for the school paper.”

He rolled his eyes, grinning. “I don’t think anyone actually reads the paper.”

There was a click. “Haha!” she cheered, holding the camera’s display screen up to her face, shielding it from the sun. “Doesn’t matter,” she responded, flicking through the pictures. “I want a good picture for my article and you’re the only one that showed up.”

He chuckled at that. “That’s because everyone else is still in class. Give them a few more minutes and they’ll be here.”

An arm wrapped around his shoulders before it was followed by a different one. He was suddenly pinned between two very similar bodies and he wrapped his arms around both of their waists.

“Nikki giving you trouble again, Zack?” the one on his right asked.

The one on his left barely let a breath pass before they added, “Nikki, we told you we were going to be late.”

“And for that, you two don’t get your photos taken. End of story.”

“Awe, but Nikki,” the one on his right whined, letting him go.

“You can’t just do our beloved Zack,” the one on his left whined in turn, wrapping both arms snugly around his waist. He laughed, wrapping his arm around their shoulders instead, very amused.

“It’s unfair,” the one that had been on his right finished, pulling on Nikki’s arm.

“And what do you two think you are doing?”

The identical twins gave identical squawks as they put distance between themselves and him and Nikki. The burly man that had walked over gave the pair a look down his nose before crossing to Nikki. “They bugging you, sweet?”

She laughed, happily leaning into the man’s embrace, both mindful of the camera. “Oh please. The day those two get too much to handle is the day I drink an entire bottle of vodka.”

The smell of cigarette smoke touched him as another body joined the party. “Ooo, we drinking? Who’s house we partying at?”

“Hey Miles,” he happily greeted.

Forever looking disheveled unless there was a very specific reason not to, Miles gave a nod, bouncing the rats nest they called hair. “Hey, Speedy. Anyone else here?”

“My brother said he and Jason would drop by when they were off of work. Should be in a few minutes, actually.”

“Good.” Miles shoved their cigarette between their lips again. “He owes me money.”

Another joined the group, slipping in on Miles’s other side. “Oh? Which one this time?”

“Hey Brice,” he greeted as Miles clarified, “The short one.”

“Jason then?” the burly man still wrapped around Nikki asked.

Brice chuckled. “I think she meant Mark, Derrek.”

“I do indeed,” Miles confirmed. She pointed her cigarette at Derrek. “Everyone’s short compared to you.”

That got a round of laughs from everyone.

“Z!”

He turned at the faint sound of his brother’s preferred pet name for him. Even transitioning hadn’t broken his brother of it, though his choice of names had only seemed to encourage Mark’s enjoyment.

He doubted he could ever find a reason to tell Mark to stop calling him ‘Z’ even if he wanted to.

“Sweet,” Jason spoke. “Everyone’s here.”

“Bout time, too,” Nikki cut in before anything else could be said. “Alright, people. Let’s get moving before I lose all my natural light for this.”

The group started moving and he found himself in the back of the group with Mark. Jason was a bit ahead of them chatting with Brice and Miles and it quickly became apparent that it had been on purpose.

“So…” Mark started, letting the word hang between them briefly. “Did you ever get it?”

“Get what?”

“Your deepest desire.”

He blinked, looking over at Mark. The other’s expression was tight but he could see the hope there.

And the guilt.

Endearment shot through him as he huffed a laugh. A soft smile pulled at his lips as he looked at those ahead of him, those that had accepted him for who he was and had become the family he never realized he had needed. He focused back on Mark, the whole reason behind why he had this family now and no matter how many scars he bore, he would always be grateful for his brother coming in and destroying the life he had thought he was ok with.

“Yeah. Yeah I did.”

[ArtisticVicu]

Fairy Tale Ending
Prompt:
You’re the daughter of an important lord, and on a visit to the royal palace, the prince falls in love with you, but you’re just annoyed, and your attempts to make him fall out of love just make him fall deeper in love.

"Were you created by magic because I can't help but be amazed by you."

She shuddered in disgust, turning a sharp glare on the speaker not caring he was well ranked above her. Straightening herself to her full height, she bit back, "When were you born because I can't tell if I'm talking to a Prince or a newborn."

She could feel Drake's horror-stricken gaze on the back of her head as Bjorn didn't even bothering to mask his booming laughter. The dwarven's blunt nature was often mistaken for rudeness. She was glad it was rubbing off.

Instead of giving the anxiety radiating off of Drake any foundation, the Prince beamed at her, his chin coming up with the force of his apparent enjoyment. She forced her hands to remain relaxed. If she let them become fists, she might actually clock the blasted narcissist in the jaw. "That was quite witty. Did you come up with that on the spot or do you have a list on hand?"

Her look turned flat as she crossed her arms. "And why would I answer something like that? Unless you're as thickheaded as your pickup line was cringe worthy, even you would not miss the fact that I do not want to be speaking with you."

"Wren," Drake hissed behind her, his hand grasping at her arm painfully.

She ignored him as the Prince's attention flickered to her friend. "So you're name's Wren, then?"

"We are through here," she snapped, yanking her arm out of Drake's hold.

"Awe, don't be that way." An unfamiliar hand wrapped around her wrist. "We were just start-"

Bare flesh colliding with bare flesh rang in her ears before her brain even had time to process the statement. Instinct had driven her so quickly, she hadn't even realized she had been the one to create the sound, finding herself suddenly facing the Prince and already at the end of the follow through of the slap.

It was probably luck that it had been an open handed slap as she watched the Prince vanish into the crowd. Drake was pulling her alone - even Bjorn was pushing her forward through the crowd - as she caught sight of the Prince's fingertips brushing over the red mark on his cheek, eyes wide with surprise before bodies got between them.

"I'm so dead," she muttered.

Her words filled the empty hallway enough for her friends to hear it. Drake was working himself into a full blown panic attack. Bjorn was much calmer but even he looked concerned.

"Why did you have to go and slap him?" Drake choked out. "Are you asking to be killed for treason? Do you like flirting with danger?!"

"Interesting way to flirt," Bjorn commented.

Drake rounded on him, finger brandished like a deadly weapon towards the other. "Not helping!"

Bjorn shrugged as hurried footfall filled what was left behind. All three of them turned finding familiar faces racing towards them.

"We saw the aftermath!" the smallest of the trio called out to them.

Drake stepped forward, arms going out. "Petra."

She wondered if he knew how telling the gesture had been as Petra grabbed at his forearms. "Did she really do it?" Petra's gaze turned to her. "Did you really slap Prince Ne-"

"What does it matter if I did?" she shot back defensively cutting through the name she did not want to hear. Petra barely batted an eye but it wasn't Petra who answered her.

"Why did you?"

She turned her gaze to the twins that had stopped several paces behind Petra and Drake's interesting embrace. Bjorn had made his way over and was standing next to the pair of twins, looking to her with the same inquisitive expression.

"It does not seem like you to slap another," the other twin pointed out.

"Let alone a dignitary like the Prince," the first added.

She let out a sharp sigh. "I don't know. I just did."

"It was because he had grabbed you, wasn't it."

She had forgotten how observant Bjorn was as she met his gaze. His statement - because it hadn't been a question - was proof enough that the dwarf was still a hardened warrior and knew far too much about her than she liked.

She shrugged, feigning apathy as she added verbally, "Probably. That this point, it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Oh, I don't know about that."

This time when she reacted, she was very aware of every single move she did, as well as the others. She snapped around, the others facing the same direction, as they all stared down the duo standing partway down the hall. She brought her chin up, looking down her nose at the taller of the two. "Venith Scraus," she greeted coldly.

The other smirked. "Wrenyor Thaun."

"Hi Wren!" the smaller of the duo shouted, waving as he bounced up and down slicing through the animosity growing thick in the hallway.

It broke some of the hostility in her and she offered the smaller a soft smile. "Hello Corinth. Enjoying the event?"

The youth nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "V said that Mom and Dad didn't want to come so we're here in their stead. I've never seen so many people before! There were so many pretty dresses."

She frowned, turning her gaze to Venith as the other placed a hand on Corinth's head. "They let you two leave without them?"

"It wasn't as if it was hard to convince them to make sure there was Scraus present at the celebration of the Prince's return." Venith's gaze moved from somewhere over Corinth's head to her. "Though I'm not sure why you and yours were even invited."

"She's lying."

She didn't dare glance back at Petra. Even without looking back she knew what the smaller's expression was, of how Petra would be staring at Venith with large blue eyes that seemed to be unraveling every secret and truth in one's very soul. She could see the instinctual response in Venith even as the other tried to hide the shudder, the step back, the flash of fear.

Corinth took a step forward to counter his sister's step back. Whether it was deliberate or out of the boy's desire to stand up for his sister was beyond her. "V told me that Mom and Dad said we could come in their stead. They even didn't care what I wore as long as I was presentable."

The glee on the boy's face was a sharp contrast to the dark look that swirled over Venith's. Despite the hate and the way they bantered with each other like others would flirt with potential lovers, it was hard for her not to reach out blindly towards the hurting soul before her. While her home life wasn't overly grand, all she had to tolerate was her mother looking down on her. At least she had her stepfather's love and support. There was no love lost in that family. It was a miracle Corinth was as vibrant as he was and that was probably the loudest testament to Venith's character than anything else; that included their animosity towards each other.

She turned her gaze from Corinth to Venith. Was it revolt she was seeing in the other's expression? Towards who?

"Oh, good! I found you!"

And just as before, the entire group's attention pivoted and focused on the newcomer. She scowled at the sight of the red cheeked Prince. He was grinning again. "Are all these friends of yours, Wren?"

"I never gave you my name to speak," she spat.

He gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "Awe, come on now. If I can't use your name, what can I call you?"

She turned away, chin rising just that much higher. "Nothing. We are not becoming acquaintances."

"Awe, why not?" he just about whined at the same time Drake hissed, "Wren, stop."

"She doesn't trust you."

Petra again, but this time she was on the other end of Petra's perception. Her chin dropped as she fought the urge to glare at the smaller. It didn't stop her from looking.

Doing so brought him back into her line of sight and she couldn't help but turn fully.

What she saw made her chest tightened.

His brows were furrowed, expression set between concern and bewilderment. Before he could speak up or ask whatever was on his mind, Petra continued. "None of us do."

That statement was heavy in the hall and she wasn't sure if she was surprised by Venith and Corinth's silence or had been expecting it.

"It's because of my father, isn't it."

Another question set as a statement, but this was from someone she did not know, someone she did not understand, and it made her hesitant even as she answered bluntly, "Yes."

His expression hardened. "I'm not like him."

She shrugged. "Whether you are or aren't, I don't trust your father to leave you unaffected."

"And what if I proved it?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "And how exactly are you going to do that?"

He grinned at her.

Not even a full day later she punched him in the face for another pickup line. He laughed it off even as her friends fretted about him. She didn't apologize but it was the only time she punched him in the face. Before she knew it, the days were vanishing into weeks, weeks into months. She had long since lost track of the days, but it would seem that others had not as the Prince voiced, "I can't believe it's been a year already."

"Since what?" she asked, trying to figure out what day it was and what had happened on the corresponding date as she studied the map on the desk between her splayed hands.

"Since you first showered me in affection."

She blocked the map out of her mind briefly as she threw her date hunting into panicked priority. It clicked but it was a little late as she shot him a glare. "I thought I broke your flirty nature."

He grinned at her. "You can't break perfection."

She groaned. "So help me, Nero, I will slug you in the throat if you keep it up. We've got things we have to be doing, remember?"

"Ok, ok," he quickly ceded, though the grin hadn't completely vanished. At least the smile was far more tolerable.

There was shifting at the edge of the map and she found herself stroking a hand over the head of the large snake coiled there. Omnic, Venith's familiar, had moved from the rug in front of the hearth to being half coiled on the desk acting like a paperweight on the curled edges of the map. Her gaze flickered to Venith, watching as the other seemed to relax just a little bit more, flipping a page before returning her arm around Corinth. The boy was passed out against her side, stitch work still draped across his lap.

Movement behind the couch drew her attention to Bjorn and the twins. Sven was much more verbal in the soft conversation the trio were sharing about the different types of politics between the dwarves and the elves but that didn't mean his brother, Vern, was paying any less attention. Vern's attentiveness reminded her of a certain petite and her gaze wandered over to Drake and Petra. Drake was scrawling something on the parchment he had on the floor, an assortment of books scattered and piled around him. Petra was at his side, listening to Drake mutter while flipping wildly through the book in hand.

"Wren."

She brought her attention back to Prince Nero, back to the map between her hands, and she let out a soft sigh. "What are we doing here, Nero?"

"Looking for the-"

"No," she cut in, already knowing what that response was. "I mean, what are we doing here? There are literal children in our midst and a few of us are barely into adulthood ourselves. We have no right trying to figure this out on our own."

"But who else can we trust?"

She looked at him, searching his expression for something - anything - that would help give her the insight she was looking for. Instead, all she found was his curiosity and his concern. "I don't know," she finally spoke, looking back at the map. "I just don't know."

"You were right."

Fire licked at her calves, the wind howling around her as she stood with Nero on the battlement, the castle in flames around them. Her hand went to push her hair out of the way but the strands were far shorter than what she was used to and they slipped back into her face when her hand kept going. It had been a habitual move, one she wasn't even conscious of as she stared; terror, bewilderment, and the bitter taste of betrayal churned within her as she held Nero's gaze.

He gave her a tight smile, continuing as he opened his arms to her. "I shouldn't have been trusted."

"Nero," she choked, wanting to step towards him but unable to move. "Please."

He shifted back, opening himself up to the view beyond the castle walls, beyond the surrounding city out to the lands beyond. "My father had turned me into a puppet and I had willingly followed his lead. I was happy following the plan he had set before me."

"That's not true!" she shouted.

He gave her another smile, just as tight but this time accompanied by a swirl of emotions in his eyes. His expression was still tightly masked. "Isn't it though? You wanted to defeat the Tyrant King. So," he turned, opening himself up to her completely, hands outstretched to either side as far as he could reach, "defeat the Tyrant King. Take out his last pawn, his last trump card, and make it so that he can never harm another again."

The tears were hot on her cheeks as his words ripped through her. But even in such a dire situation, despite her being able to see the King preparing a final strike towards them, she found herself smiling.

"Hey, Nero."

His expression turned curious as his smile fell away.

"Were you created by magic?"

She watched the confusion overtake his curiosity, fueling it.

"Because I can't help but be amazed by you."

And just like that, the words clicked in his head. "Wha-" he started, but she didn't give him a chance. She crossed to him and pressed their lips together before she was pushing him back. His ankles hit the edge of the battlement and he tipped backwards.

Her smile grew as she felt the heat of the King's final attack bearing down on her as he fell out of harm's way. "Don't ever change, ok?"

"WREN!" he screamed as a flash of scaly wings rescued him. Trusting Petra to get Nero to safety, she turned her back to face the King's attack head on.

[ArtisticVicu]

Crossed Paths
Prompt:
The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms.
Also consider the reverse. The villain shows up on the hero’s doorstep in that state.

A strange, disconnected sort of terror had seized him. Every part of him was screaming to stop moving, to quit making everything worse, but the wall behind him exploded and he pressed closer to the part still standing as he was peppered with bits of concrete too small to do any real harm. The roll of dust choked him.

"Shit," he hissed between clenched teeth, blood splattering the pavement as his hand slipped against his wound. He didn't want to die. Not like this. Not because some hero was too busy throwing down with a villain to worry about bystanders.

The thought made his blood boil under the drowning waves of fear and desperation.

The world spun around him and he slammed into the wall he was using as support. He swallowed back a wave of nausea but the pain wasn't helping and he was certain he was going to be sick.

It was like his head was filled with static. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, could barely think as his body threatened to give out on him. He shoved at the wall but he wasn't sure if he was even standing anymore. If he stayed there, if he didn't move, he was going to die. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die!

"-ang in there."

He found himself blinking against a blurry view, brain slowly catching up with what was going on. Someone was there. They were moving over him but he couldn't make a lot of it out. When had he become so numb?

A pained cry ripped itself from his chest destroying the numbness he had been in. The only benefit was the sudden clarity it brought to his mind. When he opened his eyes again, he could clearly see the person tending to him and he tried to recoil with a hiss.

The stranger pressed a gloved hand into his shoulder, their expression pleading even with most of it obscured by a hero's mask. "Wait. I'm not done yet. Just-just a few more minutes and I'll have you stable enough to not bleed out."

He settled but the tension remained in his body. He wasn't about to trust them.

True to their word, they were done after a while, but whether it had been a few minutes or a half an hour, he didn't know. The expression sent his way hinted at relief and gratitude, not that he understood the latter and blamed the mask for hiding the true emotions despite the mask failing to obscure the other's eye color completely; they were blue for some reason. "There. You should be fine now till the paramedics arrive. I'll bring them in but it'll take some time. The fight's made a lot of the area difficult to traverse." There was the sound of an explosion not far off and the hero's head rose, seeking out the source of the noise he was certain the other couldn't actually see. "Not to mention the fight is still happening." The hero's gaze returned to him, as did their gloved hand to his shoulder. "Don't go too far, ok? I'll be right back."

And with that, the hero vanished from his side. The pain in his side was throbbing right along with his pulse and the thought of even twitching made his lips curl in pain. So, instead, he settled in as best he could, closed his eyes, and succumbed to sleep without meaning to.

It would be days later before he discovered who had saved his life and it wasn't even in a way he had expected. It wasn't like he hadn't gone looking. He was curious to know what the hero had even done to stabilize him, what abilities they had and whatnot, but he half remembered their mask and didn't know their name so he was left either hoping to find it in the news articles from that particular day or the hero registry.

He never expected to meet them on the street.

It had been a clip of a shoulder on a populated sidewalk. He was going to just let it go, let the crowd swallow him and not even think about the incident, but the sound of stumbling and the inevitable crash to pavement made his feet still as he looked back. The crowd parted, giving the prone figure and their scattered property a wide berth. Already a few kind souls were stopping to help collect the items scattered about as the figure started to get up, pulling at the items closest to them.

"You alright?" he asked, squatting near them to grab at a bag spilling its content on the ground. An involuntary 'tsk' left his throat as he started chasing marbles.

"Yeah," was the stranger's breathy reply. "Sorry. You don't-you don't have to help. I've got it."

There were soft mutters of thanks to the strangers that handed the collected property to the figure as he took a marble from a grinning child. He offered the child a weak smile before depositing the glass ball back into the bag with its companions. The last marble was between him and the figure but when he went to reach for it, the stranger's hand beat him to it, his fingers bumping up against the back of their hand.

"Ah, sorry," the stranger repeated, jerking back. He brought his gaze up to find a pair of wide, rather familiar pair of blue eyes staring at him. The stranger reached out as the rest of their property was precariously clutched to their chest. "I can take that back now."

A jolt of recognition shot through him as his eyes drifted down, watching the other speak and fret. If his hunch was right - he would bet good money it was - then this was his hero. Curiosity burned through him as hot as the hatred for heroes that hadn't gone away as the days had progressed and he found himself scoffing, taking the marble from the stranger's hand and slipping it into the bag. "Please. If we add anymore to that mess, you'll lose it all over the pavement again."

The stranger's cheeks flushed and he was very glad the other wasn't wearing that stupid hero's mask. They were very expressive, easy to read, and it made getting anywhere in discovering if his hunch was right all that much easier. All he had to do now was get them to stay in contact.

He reached out and took some of the mess out of the stranger's arm. Unfortunately for him, the stranger was jumpy and half of the content between him and the stranger scattered to the pavement again. The stranger's vocalization was more sound than words but he was already bending down and scooping up what had fallen free. It was easy to stack it all in his arms without the fear of losing any of it.

The stranger looked torn as they rushed, "You don't have to do that. I can carry it."

"And now you don't have to." He shifted the pile's weight higher up, settling it against his body. "Lead. I'll follow."

It was interesting watching the relief bleed into the torn expression. "You really don't have to," the stranger urged even as they started walking.

"You're right, I don't." The stranger glanced at him and he couldn't believe how he was able to play the other so easily. He offered a cocky smile. "I want to. Seemed only right after having knocked you over."

The other blushed. It was endearing despite his intent of not letting this go beyond getting information from the other. "Ah, no. That was-someone had bumped me from the other side and I was losing my footing before I clipped your shoulder. And now you're helping me when you didn't have to." The stranger stopped abruptly and he let his surprise shift his expression. "Let me buy you coffee or something for your help."

Well that certainly made things easy but it left a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. He hadn't wanted it to be an obligation. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," the stranger cut through. Did the stranger say that out of a true desire to or to throw his own words back at him? "If you don't like coffee, I could buy you lunch. Please. I'll feel bad if you walk away after I've imposed on you."

He waved his hand as if to brush the statement away, the bag of marbles still in his grip swinging back and forth. "I don't want payment."

"But-"

"But I was on my way to lunch," he continued, not giving the other a chance to get started again. "If you truly want to pay me back in some way, then join me. I've had a crappy last few days and pleasant company is rare to come by."

Not that it mattered and he certainly didn't know the stranger well enough to know if they really were pleasant company but the grin that broke out on the other's face was worth it.

He would deny later that it had swayed his hand when the other had beat him to the check when it was brought.

"I was serious when I said you didn't have to pay for lunch, Liam," he urged halfheartedly, hand still hanging in the air between them.

The other gave him a playful grin, the tip of the other's tongue caught between their front teeth. It was a ridiculous expression but after everything, he found it fit rather well on the other.

"You say that but I don't see you reaching across the table for the check," the other - Liam, he reminded himself - teased. "Besides, after the week you've had, I think I have every right to treat you to lunch. So let me treat you to lunch."

He sagged back into the diner's booth, giving up the last of his stubborn hold. "Fine. But I'm paying next time. It's only fair."

He registered his own words at the same time Liam did. Liam's gaze came up from the milkshake he had been stirring with a gleam of excitement in those depthless blue eyes. "Next time?"

He looked away and hoped the sensation of his cheeks burning was just his imagination. "No. Forget I said anything."

He could practically feel the excitement rolling off of the other and he wasn't sure he wanted to verify if there was hope there as well. "What if I want a next time?"

He inwardly flinched at that thought. He had no intention of letting this become a....a thing but it seemed like the world was against him just making this an information run.

He would have to work against this soft part of himself if he wanted to change the world for the better.

"And if I don't?"

The other shrugged, going back to his milkshake. "Then don't show up and I'll leave you alone." Liam stuck his hand out, grinning. "Give me your phone."

"Why?" he asked, hesitation and distrust heavy in that single word even as he fished it out of his pocket.

"This way you can't use the excuse of losing my number," Liam told him, sounding proud of himself. He felt the other was entitled to that pride because he had been sourly tempted on feigning losing it as he tossed it into the nearest trash bin. "You'd have to manually delete it."

He unlocked it and tapped the phone icon, not sure if he was content with going through with this or not. A sort of numbness had settled over him in lieu of his indecisive emotional decision even as his injury dully throbbed. He had waited too long to take his meds but as he watched Liam input his contact info, he figured it had been worth it.

"Classic spelling of Roderick, right?" Liam asked, passing his phone back even as the other fished for his in turn. A muffled chiming emanated from the same pocket Liam was rooting through as he took his phone back, nodding.

"C-r-e-e-d," he added as an afterthought, watching Liam punch in his first name and start on his last.

"Awesome. I've got to get these supplies to the daycare so I'll text you later." Liam quickly pulled the now bagged supplies towards him from the far side of the bench as he pocketed his phone. "We can coordinate our next lunch then, yeah?"

He nodded. "Sure."

Liam beamed before rushing out the door. Roderick looked down at his phone, the screen still open to the new contact page. 'Liam Grace' glared up at him as if to mock him. He couldn't help but feel like he was getting in too deep for something so menial but the lunch had been rather pleasant and he was looking forward to seeing Liam again. He had not been wrong when he had said pleasant company wasn't a bad thing after the last few days.

A part of him hoped his suspicion was wrong.

It was a month later when he confirmed that Liam was his 'hero' and, looking back, he found that he had missed the subtle hints that had told him he had been right since their first meeting; the tail end of glances towards his side with an expression he could now decipher having all the information, the eagerness to keep in contact, the constant barrage of attention. All of it was to sooth some part of Liam's hero persona just checking in on him. He expected Liam to vanish from his life after he had fully healed but the other stuck around and wormed his way into Roderick's life so thoroughly, five years vanished before his very eyes and he came home to find Liam standing in the middle of his living room grinning from ear to ear, flowers and balloons artistically scattered everywhere and a bouquet in hand. The boyish grin on the other's face had a smile tugging at his own lips as he tugged his shoes off.

"What's all this?" he asked, already having an inkling. Liam had been far too giddy the last few days and it hadn't been hard to figure it had something to do with the day.

"Happy Five Years since we met," Liam happily chirped, offering him the bouquet.

As much as he wasn't a flower person, at least Liam had gotten him ones he didn't overly mind having around every now and again. He took the proffered gift, tapping at the balloon on a stick that proclaimed 'Happy Anniversary' in bubbly letters. He chuckled. "I've told you we don't have to celebrate today."

It always brings back the memories of why we're together.

Liam's grin only got bigger. "I know, but I want to. Here." The other dug through the blankets on the couch before offering the gift to him. He rolled his eyes and set the bouquet on the coffee table before taking the gift. He frowned at the weight. It was heavier than he had expected. "What is it?" he asked even as he tore at the paper.

"You'll see."

The wrapping paper fell away and he turned the object over in his hands. The box was rather plain and told him nothing of what was trapped within the black confines. He tucked it into his elbow to pull the lid off.

Ice raced through him at the possible implications of the object nestled in a cloud of white tissue paper.

"I've been looking for it for a while now. It's the right one, right?"

The object was a rather unbecoming book but he knew the contents inside were more than the cover let on. He reached in, a stray thought wondering where the lid had gone.

The book was the majority of the weight, the box slipping from his arm as he stopped registering its soft weight. With shaking hands, he carefully opened the worn book and watched as it fell open to some page off center. The passages that glared up at him from the thin pages made it hard for him to breathe. "Where did you find this?" he asked, his voice coming out raspy and breathless.

"Some little back shop. It had been in the window." Liam's words were nonchalant but there was an undercurrent of concern. He couldn't bring himself out of his shock and growing fear that Liam knew. "Is it the right one?"

The repeated question finally registered in his brain and he flipped to the front of the book. It was easy finding the page he knew would only exist in the edition he had been looking for. Sure enough, the page stared up at him in words he never believed he would ever read again in his life. "Yeah," he choked out.

He had been looking for this book long before the hero incident all those years ago and now that it was in his hands, he wasn't sure if it was real. Liam's arms snaked around him, though, and those were real. He closed the book as it got pinned between them and he grabbed at the back of Liam's shirt with his free hand, his other pinned with the book between their chests. His entire body was shaking and he wasn't sure if it was relief, glee, or dread causing it.

That book turned out to be a curse rather than the gift it had been intended for. He had utilized the contents well, using them to strengthen his abilities and reach higher ranks in among the villains' organization as heroes started paying attention to him. He met every hero - and villain - that came at him head on despite avoiding physical confrontations with any of them. That is, all except for the hero named Echo.

Liam's hero persona, Echo, became a formidable opponent against the other villains as the years passed and he gained experience. Roderick made sure that he never crossed Echo's path as a villain. He was certain the other would see right through him before the fight even began.

But sometimes things don't go as planned and he found himself slumped against the wall of some alleyway staring at Liam's front door. The other was home. He could see movement behind the closed blinds despite the rain trying to drown him. He was tempted to find some hovel and lick his wounds but he needed immediate attention and he couldn't go home. He couldn't even get out of his villain attire without help and despite all the friends he had made over the years, it was Liam he wanted to go to, Liam he was drawn to, Liam who he trusted. But he didn't want to break this to Liam, not like this. Never like this.

He didn't remember sliding down the brick wall to sink onto his knees in the growing puddle at his feet.

He didn't know Liam had seen him till the other's hands were on him, shaking in a way he didn't know they could as his lover's voice quaked around him.

Pain flared from the most fatal of the wounds and it broke whatever had kept Liam's words at bay.

"-ay something!"

"Liam," he croaked, choking on the word and coughing. The sound was wet and painful. He wondered if it was a punctured lung or simply accumulation from everything else.

"Rodey," Liam all but sobbed.

He hissed when the other tried to move him.

"I have to get you inside," Liam spoke, his voice flat and taking on the cadences that were more common for Echo than Liam. "I can't-you'll bleed out if I don't get you inside."

"Don't-" he tried but Liam was already slipping his arms around Roderick and hefting him up into his arms. He gave a strangled cry and Liam's arms convulsed around him.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in a foreign room too sterile to be any part of Liam's house and too fancy to be any normal hospital.

The lack of equipment and pain told him enough.

He shoved at his blankets, a sneer on his face as he moved. His body was sore, echoes of what he had gone through coursing through him in time with his pulse.

Whatever they had put him in, he hated. It felt wrong, it felt too sterile, and he nearly sighed in relief when he saw a change of clothes sitting on a chair. He grabbed at it and immediately recognized the different fabrics. One outfit was some clothes he had left at Liam's; the other was his villain costume. Curiosity got the better of him and he unfolded the pieces, finding that it had been repaired - or replaced, there wasn't even any marks where he had been hit. It made his stomach churn at the thought of how many knew.

He was pulling his shirt on when someone cleared their throat. As soon as his head was free from his shirt, he glared at the intruder, grateful he had put his pants on first. "You must be the Director," he stated coldly.

The woman looked rather plain and harmless but he knew that was all a lie. She was the head of the hero organization and that meant she could outmaneuver him verbally without breaking a sweat. She was the world's greatest tactician and he was nothing more than a pawn to her.

"And you're Silence, Echo's counterpart," she spoke, her words crisp but her voice soft. It was unusual to hear but, then, he was from a big city. "Or, at least when you're wearing that villain mask of yours."

He didn't care to glance at the pile of fabric haphazardly draped about the chair, regardless if she gestured at it. Silence settled over them but he wasn't about to break it first. He had long since gotten good at waiting people out and he was always ready to have at a battle of wits on that front. She didn't let them stand in that silence long and it proved to be in his favor he hadn't spoken up.

"Liam speaks highly of you, despite your alignment."

He shrugged. "Liam likes everyone."

"A bluff." She wasn't wrong, but neither was he. "He cares about the masses. He hates quite a number of people."

"And I'm pretty sure I'm on that shit list now." He crossed his arms over his chest, trying and failing to calm the apprehension rising like bile in his throat. "What of it?"

Silence stretched between them. He itched to snap at her, to tell her to just up and tell him already, but he was stubborn and had already proven he was willing to wait her out.

She eventually ceded when it seemed she had settled on her thoughts. "He was in a panic when he brought you to us, begging us to keep this hidden and to heal you. He didn't care you were a villain. But we did."

He raised an eyebrow at her, taunting, "What? Are you going to throw me in prison now? Last I checked, there's no body count for you to pin on me, no evidence to keep me there."

"Why is there no body count, Roderick?" He flinched, hating his name on her tongue. "Out of all the villains we've ever dealt with, you are the only one that meets heroes head to head and go out of your way to keep that hero in check. You use your words to distract and disarm heroes when there are civilians around. When they come at you physically, you keep a step ahead of them, keeping them from any bystanders and doing your best to keep collateral damage down to a minimum. Even your own men swoop in, corralling people out of the way, going through and doing patches where they can during the fight, offering aid where they can to help your efforts. Why is that?"

He scoffed. "I would be surprised if you hadn't already had a theory."

"Then I am not wrong to assume it has to do with the unfortunate event that had you meeting Echo in the first place?"

"That might have something to do with it."

"Then why that book?"

His expression split into a feral grin, the humor there dark and as sharp as the look he sent her. "I dare you to guess."

"It enhances your abilities."

He laughed at that, but it was more of a bark and just as sharp as his grin. "Try again."

"It controls your abilities."

"It controls others' abilities, too, you know," he offered nonchalant as he gathered his belongings. "It's easy to recruit people when you can guarantee that they never have to suffer the sting of causing others harm."

He wasn't sure why she had let him walk out.

He tried looking for Liam, tried to see if he was going to be the one to take him home, but no matter who he asked, they all said he had left already. He found the Director waiting at the front doors by the time he managed to admit defeat.

Betrayal burned through him as he stalked by.

The setting sun was sharp against the glass of the transport but he couldn't feel its heat against his skin. The window was too thick, too tinted against the rays for him to be able to. He looked away.

Over and over his options rolled around his mind. Yes it hurt that Liam hadn't been there, that the other had left without him, but he shoved it away in the face of more pressing matters and every solution that came to mind was worse than the last.

It wasn't till he was almost home in the back of some organization car that he brought up his texts with Liam. He was shaking but his fingers were steady against the screen. He wrote, rewrote, deleted all of it changing his mind, and started again when he changed it back to the point that when he found himself on his doorstep, he had yet to send Liam any correspondence. But he had one ready. All he had to do was press send.

He read it once more. He knew this made him the largest coward but he didn't have any other choice that didn't result in them both dying. At least this way Liam would have a chance.

He pressed send and turned the screen off.

He slipped his key into the lock and turned it. It gave easily, the lock sliding back with a solid clicking thud. The door opened into the dark entryway. There was a light on in the living room, one of the lamps if he gauged the lighting right, and thought nothing of it till a painfully familiar, ungodly cheerful chirruping rang from the living room.

"Seriously?" he asked, giving Liam a skeptical look.

The other grinned at him. "What? I like it. Think it fits."

His look flattened. "That fits me?"

"Oh yeah," Liam assured him. He wasn't sure if there was sarcasm in Liam's words or not. "Fits your sunny disposition perfectly."

"Change it."

Liam grinned at him. "No."

"I'm breaking your phone."

"Only if you get your hands on it."

He closed his eyes against the inevitable as he closed the door and stepped away. Echoes of the past haunted his every step.

"'Liam,'" echoed about as he stepped into the living room. He found Liam sitting on the couch, phone in hand and reading out loud with an unreadable expression. "'I'm sorry. I have to leave, to put distance between us. Don't follow. There's nothing you can do to change this. I hope you find someone else soon.'"

The silence that followed was oppressive.

He wondered if his control was slipping, if they were both slipping, but the thing that had his tongue lead in his mouth was how that had sounded out loud. He shouldn't have sent it.

"So that's it?" Liam challenged. His voice was uncharacteristically lacking. "You were just going to break up with me? Over text?"

"Liam," he tried, but whatever else he was going to say caught in his throat.

It didn't matter. Liam didn't even give him a chance to try as the other stood up to be face to face with him. "I go out of my way to get you the best help I could get to save your life, put both of us in jeopardy for the risks I took doing so while assuring your secret wouldn't get out, and before I even get told they let you go, let alone that you were heading home, I get this?" He gestured with his phone. "Is this how you see us? See me? Like I'm something to just ditch when times get tough? What about the last three years? The last five?!"

Anger flared in him and for the first time since they met, the rage that had always been burning inside him towards every hero except for Liam's persona was suddenly turned on Liam. "I'm not ditching you because it's convenient," he snarled and Liam jerked back at that, retaliating, "I never said-" but he didn't let Liam finish that thought. "I'm trying to save us both!"

"By leaving me behind?!"

"What else do you want me to do?!" he bellowed. "If you come with me, it will put us in more jeopardy than the risk you took saving my life! We will never have a quiet life and you can't tell me that these last five years were! Not when you left me behind too many times to count every time you went up against some villain out of your league!"

He sucked in air like he was suffocating but the words wouldn't stop. He couldn't make them stop. "I tracked every fight you had and intervened as best I could. It certainly grew easier the higher up I got but it still hurt every time I saw just how much damage you took doing some stupid stunt!"

"So you've known? All this time and you never confronted me about Echo?!"

"How was I supposed to approach you about that?!" He snarled, "You would veto any conversation dealing with heroes and I figured it was a guise; pretend to not like heroes as part of your cover story, makes it easier for people to not suspect you."

"When did you figure it out."

The demand was sharp, quiet, and ice cold. He sucked in a breath against it, the act curling his lip as he stared Liam down. "I suspected the day our shoulders hit. I was certain a month later."

A breathy laugh left Liam. The other took a step back as his weight shifted, head falling back as his eyes went to the ceiling. "So you’ve known from day one and yet you never thought to let me in on yours?"

Liam's blue eyes were on him again, ever fathomless but closed off to him. He couldn't help but feel like he deserved so much more hate from the other than just this; he was going to deserve so much more than this. "Yes," he confirmed, his voice soft but filling the room anyways.

Liam jerked back at that, shaking his head. "Of course you did." He gave a bark of a laugh that sounded hollow to Roderick. "Of course you did! Why would you tell me anything?!"

"Liam," he tried to counter but the other rounded on him.

"Were you ever going to tell me? Were you waiting till after we got married or something or was I going to find out when you finally got killed or arrested?"

The words were on his tongue in an instant and it was easy to spit out the lie despite knowing it was going to ruin everything. There was no coming back from this. It at least guaranteed Liam's safety at minimum.

"I never intended to marry you."

The rage vanished from Liam's face right along with the color and it was all he could do to keep going, to keep up the charade as it killed him in the process.

"I simply humored the speculation to keep you unaware."

Pain flared in his right temple as his vision went white from the well deserved punch. He could hear Liam's erratic breathing over the pounding of his own pulse in his ears.

"I hope they catch you," Liam spat, voice quaking with emotion. "I hope that you suffer when they do."

There was no clarification on who that 'they' was and it didn't really matter because he agreed with him. The front door slammed shut with so much force, the windows rattled from it.

He found himself sinking to the floor as he tried to swallow the sorrow choking him.

He lasted long enough for Liam to be well out of earshot before the first sob broke free.

It was followed by so many more.

An hour later found him puffy eyed and hoarse but packed and locking his front door for the last time. He had things to do, places to be, people to hide and to hide from. He didn't have the luxury of curling up under the covers and never coming out again.

The only personal affect he kept was a picture that Liam had taken. There were no people in it; only a close-up of an old tree's trunk where a new sprout was blooming. It reminded him of what he had given up and why he was doing any of this.

His villain persona Silence vanished from the villain scene and he replaced it with Dead Air. Dead Air was ruthless in filling in the gap Silence had left in the elite. Only a few people speculated that Silence and Dead Air were the same villain. Dead Air wouldn't harm civilians either but many just figured Dead Air had worked for Silence. Dead Air was far too ruthless towards those that went up against him to be the same quiet, reserved villain Silence had been.

Dead Air also went toe to toe with heroes, dishing out more damage than he took in any physical fight. People used that to shoot down any theories of Silence and Dead Air being one and the same.

He didn't even flinch when Echo turned up during one of his fights with other heroes four years after their nasty breakup. He let himself be Dead Air and had at Echo like he would any other hero. Afterwards he would be pleased at discovering that Echo had learned over the years and had gotten better.

He should have suspected that wouldn't be the last time he would see the hero.

For whatever reason, Echo was suddenly up against Dead Air constantly and for the last year, Roderick had to put up with seeing the other. It was easy to find when and why Liam had moved to Roderick's new stomping grounds. It had been even easier to make sure he lived as far away from that particular area so that there was no chance that Liam would ever run into him in public.

But that didn't mean he wasn't findable.

"Dead Air!"

His head snapped up seeking out the subordinate that had called out to him. Despite the smaller numbers compared to what Silence had as a following, he still found himself amazed at how many had followed him as he changed to Dead Air. That little book he had yet to touch since becoming Dead Air had given him one last tool he had used to make sure everyone that had followed him when he was Silence were unable to even remember they had. He made sure all of them were well off, though, but still many were adamant about staying at his side even when he changed to Dead Air and rid them of all memories of Silence.

He still remembered every name.

"What is it, Thirteen?" he gently ordered.

"You've got to come see this."

Frowning, he left the table full of building schematics, charts of varying types, and those he was consoling with for the next big project. He followed Thirteen through the halls to the entrance.

He involuntarily sucked air in through clenched teeth as both parts surprise and concern slammed into him.

Echo was huddled in the tiny entryway with Two and Twenty-six. The two subordinates weren't touching the hero but they had placed themselves between the hero and the exit in a way that spoke of keeping something out rather than keeping the hero in. He realized that Echo wasn't just huddled in on himself; the other was shivering, bleeding, and most importantly, scared. There was a dazed look in those too wide blue eyes barely obscured by the hero's mask. Roderick knew that look and anger flared through him at the thought of anyone drugging heroes, let alone Echo.

Clearly already uneasy on his feet - and probably close to passing out if Roderick was reading everything right - he nearly toppled himself over when his head snapped up as Roderick approached.

He watched as the clearly jumpy hero moved away from Two when the subordinate reached out to steady him. It only made his concern grow sharper.

Something wasn't right.

He closed the space between them and didn't give Echo a chance to avoid his touch as he grabbed the other's upper arms where he hoped there weren't hidden injuries. Echo whimpered, words rolling over themselves in a choked whisper as Roderick watched the other start to quickly lose the fight against passing out. "Didn't...didn't know where else to go."

He saw the moment Echo lost the fight. It was all he could do to keep from worsening the other's injuries as Echo collapsed. He carefully shifted his hold getting Echo's limp form to slump against his chest so that he could get under the other enough to pick him up.

He gritted his teeth against seeing signs of possible torture, his blood boiling.

"Call Nine. If she can't come in, call Seven. I want them here as soon as possible. Arrange transport if you need to."

"Yes, sir!" echoed around him as he turned and stormed towards the medical rooms. There weren't many in the base - only three, really, but one was set up for emergency surgeries, one for examinations and minor injuries, and the largest one reminiscent of an emergency room for those bedridden to wait till they could be transported to a proper hospital.

He took Echo to the examination room. Someone had called ahead of him because Six was there pulling the paper across the examination table. They helped him lay Echo down as carefully as the pair of them could manage.

Thirteen reappeared, breathless. "Seven is two minutes out, Nine twenty. They both directed that unless the patient is bleeding out, not to do anything till they get here."

"Inform them I moved the patient from the entrance to the examination room," he ordered, his tone restrained.

Thirteen brought their hand up to the earpiece only to pause before the motion could be completed. They met his gaze again. "As long as you don't do any more damage, that should be fine. Seven's words. Nine echoed his sentiments, though more politely."

Thirteen flinched, hand actually clasping the earpiece. He chuckled, lips curling in amusement as he heard the echoes of Seven's voice in the hall. "Seven, don't make Thirteen deaf. I happen to like having subordinates that can hear," he chastised with very little heat as he stepped around Thirteen into the hall.

"Will all due respects, sir," came a snarky comment from around a nearby corner, Thirteen echoing the words till he too noticed that Seven had arrived. Said subordinate stepped around the corner and gave him a hard look, "if you want me to not deafen any of the others, remind them to keep their snarky comments to themselves."

He chuckled again. "I'll keep that in mind." His expression sobered. "Not a word to anyone what transpires from here on out. No identities, no events, nothing."

Seven gave a brisk nod. "Of course, sir. Anyone that is privy to the information?"

"Thirteen, Two, Six, and Twenty-six, Nine as well once she arrives. You have my permission to pull in what hands you need but make sure they understand the severity of the situation. Do not bring in people you cannot trust to keep their mouth shut."

Seven gave a half bow, uttering, "Of course, sir," before slipping into the room and closing the door.

He turned to Thirteen. "Gather Two, Twenty-six, Eleven, and Four and meet me in 206."

"Eleven and Four, sir?"

"I passed them in the hallway. I want them to be there for the same conversation. Hopefully it'll be before either of them had a chance to talk to others."

Thirteen nodded and took off down the hallway.

An hour passed in a blur. It took a whole fifteen minutes to make sure that word of Echo's arrival didn't spread beyond the initial subordinates. It had but only by one degree so he counted that as luck. After that, he sent the entire place from languid existence to a vibrating hive of activity. Subordinates were called in and there was a constant stream of new arrivals to the situation. Some weren't even brought in. Instead, they were immediately sent on missions - most of them recon. As much as he felt no right to seek revenge against whoever had harmed Liam, he couldn't help the burning rage towards anyone stupid enough to do that where he would find it.

He had killed for far less.

"Dead Air, sir." He brought his head up, looking at Six as she came to a stop at his side. "Seven wishes to speak with you."

"I'll be there in a moment," he informed her.

"He said it couldn't wait."

He frowned, bringing his head up to look at Six. She looked stressed, hands clasped together so tightly, they were almost white from the force of it. "Ok. Give me one minute."

It was easy passing command on to Thirteen and Thirty-six for his brief absence. The pair took it in stride as he turned and followed Six's quick pace towards the medical rooms.

He frowned when he saw the stream of bodies coming in and out of the room prepped for surgeries. Seven was standing in the middle of the hallway waiting for them.

"How bad is he?" left his lips as soon as he was close enough to Seven before he could even try and stall them.

"He needs a proper hospital," Seven berated, though there was an edge to the words that he recognized, "but transferring him now would be dangerous."

He gestured to the examination room they were standing in front of. Seven reached the door as he clarified, "So pretty bad, then."

Six remained outside, her back towards the door as Seven closed it. He didn't have enough thought to expend on extrapolating why she was standing guard.

"Sir," Seven inquired, still standing at the closed door, handle clenched in his hand. Seven's gaze finally looked at him. "How did he get here?"

He shook his head. "Walked, I presume. Two and Twenty-six said that the area beyond the entrance was empty when he had frantically pounded at the door."

Seven let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his graying hair. "That man should not have been able to move, let alone conscious. The amount of damage done to his body-"

Seven cut himself off but Roderick found he couldn't let the man leave it at that.

"How bad, Seven," he ordered, voice as controlled as he could manage.

Seven squared himself off again and Roderick mentally applauded the man's ability to regroup mentally so quickly. "Numerous minor breaks, several severe breaks, two of which in the leg and pelvis. He should not have been able to walk even the shortest of distances. Not only that, but multiple punctures and gashes that will require extensive sterilization and stitches, torn ligaments that will need resting and at least one joint to realign." Seven's expression tightened. "Sir, I have to ask: how close were you to him?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Seven's expression didn't change. "Because what I'm about to say may not be handled with the utmost care."

"I'll be fine. What is it?"

A pause, one that made his chest ache with fear, and anger flare as his impatience grew.

"There are numerous signs of rape, and not just by one person."

There wasn't air to breath in when all of it left his lungs. His vision blurred as he tried to get his brain to form coherent sentences his lips could form and speak, but it didn't happen. It was a miracle he even found the chair.

"Sir?"

He didn't know how much time had passed but it seemed to be enough to warrant Seven's concerned expression to be far too close for his current liking. He sat up straighter even as he choked on his next words. "Please tell me they were stupid enough to leave DNA behind."

The savage grin that stretched Seven's face was a balm to his emotional turmoil.

"It has already been sent for processing," Seven informed him. "If their DNA is in any system, we'll find it."

"Good."

Seven's vicious energy died down. "Sir, I have one other question."

He waved Seven's trepidation away, reminding the other, "You're welcome to as many as you need. If they help him, I don't care what they are."

"Why didn't you take him to the hero organization?"

He met Seven's gaze, studied the man's curious albeit confused expression. "If he came here," he spoke slowly, uttering a thought he had been dwelling on since Echo's arrival, "then that means that the hero organization was no longer safe for him to go to. I will not risk his life more than I already have by sending him somewhere he may get better care but put in far more danger."

Seven nodded. "You believe the hero organization has corruption in it."

"I know it does," he countered sharply. "Saw it with my own eyes years ago. Even heroes can be homophobic assholes."

"So you two were that close, then."

He glared at Seven who was conveniently not looking at him. "What does that mean?"

Seven glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "Nothing offensive, I assure you. My own partner would murder me in broad daylight if they heard I spoke ill of another in the community and they are no villain. Simply put, I can prepare for you to be a bit more agitated when it comes to his well being. I will do my best to make sure you receive updates as regularly as possible."

He shook his head, surprised at the relief that had tempered some of his unease about all of this. He really shouldn't have been surprised at how nonchalant Seven was about all this. "Don't interrupt your work for me. I will be busy enough as it is that I don't need regular updates. Just inform me when you're done and give me a prognosis then."

"Of course, sir. Anything else?"

He stood, squaring himself. "Take good care of him, Seven. I'm counting on your team to keep him alive."

"Always, sir."

He hadn't been lying when he said he would be busy. At first he watched the minutes tick by but Thirteen and Thirty-six drew him back into the work and suddenly his attention was pulled away from the stacks of papers he had been reading, finding the room void of all but his visitor with only the few lights he needed to be able to read.

"Six," he spoke, the word coming off a tad harsh. Exhaustion pulled at him now that he was no longer distracted. "I thought I had dismissed all day subordinates."

"You did," she assured him. "I and a number of others stayed to continue helping Seven and Nine." She shifted her weight. "We're done. Seven and Nine wanted to give you an update before they went home. They've already given the night shift their directions, not that many of them needed them beyond the standard's basics."

The files were abandoned.

Hours passed in the blink of an eye. He had crashed some point after seeing Seven and Nine off, as well as a number of those that had aided them. When he had awoken, it was to sharp sunlight through the barely covered window and to the sounds of a bustling hallway.

Thirteen and Thirty-six had made sure his absence wasn't even noticed so he let them keep at it, taking the opportunity to check in on Echo like he had wanted to the night before but had refrained from doing.

The largest medical room was void of humans. The beds were all clean and prepped, ready to go at a moment's notice. All the dividing curtains were tied back till they were needed, leaving the room feeling open and far larger than it really was. At the back was the nurses' desk situated in the middle of the horseshoe shape of the more private rooms. The rooms on either side of the corral of a desk were nothing more than indents in the wall large enough to house a gurney, a small counter with a sink, and the minimal equipment needed. These were all dark and each curtain that would have made up the fourth wall and 'door' was pushed open. On the back wall were only a few actual doors that led into similar rooms. He went to the one on the farthest left and opened it, finding a room well lit by sunlight with a sleeping occupant.

It was rather quiet beyond that door.

The door clicked softly behind him as he stared at Echo's face. No, Liam's. The hero mask was nowhere to be seen and the costume had long since been traded for a hospital gown. It was all he could do to move away from the door.

He didn't know how long he stood there watching the rise and fall of Liam's chest knowing that if things had gone differently, their surroundings would be completely different and that chest wouldn't be moving.

Something broke his thoughts and he finally looked away. It was easy logging into the computer and pulling up Liam's medical files. He started skimming through the information, taking in the x-rays and ct scans and every other note he could find. The raw medical documents seemed so much more absolute than any report he received from a subordinate.

He frowned as he stumbled over some of the language.

"Didn't know you knew medicine."

He looked over to find Liam's fathomless blue eyes barely open and a bit glazed from the powerful painkillers Seven had him on. But they were still as kind and mischievously joyful as they had been before he had gone and destroyed their relationship in the cruelest way he could imagine. It seemed wrong that he was being looked at that way again. "Enough to be of use till more skilled hands can step in."

Liam hummed and Roderick focused back on the screen, assuming that was the end of that.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"I went looking for you, you know."

He froze mid scroll, those few words halting every thought process he had. He forced a scoff, mentally shoving the shock away. "I'm not overly difficult to find. Case in point: you're currently in my base."

"Rodey. I know it's you."

He feigned ignorance even as he clenched his jaw and tried to swallow against the tightness in his throat. "I will have to speak with Seven. It would seem you hit your head far harder than we thought."

"Roderick."

He glanced over. He hadn't meant to and had no intentions of giving in, of admitting defeat, but Liam's voice was coaxing, tired, and still spoke his name as if it was the most precious thing to him.

"You should have stayed away," he croaked, unable to fake it anymore.

Liam shook his head as best he could while injured. "I couldn't have even if I wanted to." Those blue eyes met his again. "When I finally registered the words I had spoken out of spite and betrayal - when what you were doing finally clicked in my slow brain - you had already vanished off the face of the planet. You left no trace of where you had gone and I burned through every lead I could scrounge up. No matter where we were heading, after everything had settled, I hadn't wanted to say goodbye like that."

"I didn't give you a choice," he consoled, but Liam had none of it.

"It doesn't matter. I wasn't about to let what we had go down in a fiery wreck. Or, at least, I was going to try." Liam gave a soft smile. It looked tired. "When word got to me of this new villain cutting through the ranks, I had thought nothing of it till I heard the name." That soft smile broke out into as full of a grin as the other could manage. "Dead Air? Really?"

He shrugged, defensive but too exhausted to do anything with it. "I hadn't intended to choose it. It was the only one that stuck."

Liam chuckled. "I had heard the speculations of you being Silence just renamed but it wasn't sticking. Most of those that wanted it to stick couldn't find an angle where it did but I knew the moment I saw the first video feed. Your costume and tactics may have changed, but the way you hold yourself and the way your people follow you is still the same." Liam shifted as if settling more into the bed. Roderick found himself taking a step from the computer but he stomped on the impulse to close the distance and help. "But I knew if you were trying to start over, then there was no need for me to complicate things."

"But you did anyways."

Liam hummed in agreement. "I had managed to keep to our original stomping grounds, though the area where they kept sending me was expanding. I spent six months travelling through Europe because of some villain hunt going on over there that I had been sent to assist that didn't even need me." A soft laugh escaped him. "It was nice over there but I kept bugging the Director to come back and she was adamant about me staying to assist. The head of the European branch of the organization kept telling me they really didn't need my help and to either use it as a vacation or make it back on my own."

A pang of...well, he wasn't sure if it was jealousy, regret, or exhausted sympathy he was feeling but whatever it was weighed down heavily on him as he coaxed, "Did you enjoy it?"

Liam hummed again. "Not as much as I could have. I kept thinking about you everywhere I went. I have so many places I want to take you when we manage to get out of here for a real vacation."

"Liam." As touched as he was at the thought to include him, he couldn't ignore reality. "We can't get back together."

The other deflated but it was minute and the only reason he had seen it was because he had been expecting it. Liam still offered him a smile. "I know. Wishful thinking is all."

He was surprised to find himself at Liam's side but didn't bother to figure out when he had gotten there as he pressed one hand into the mattress to keep himself upright as he brought them to eye level. "Then why are you here? Here in my base, in my stomping grounds?"

Liam shrugged. "I don't know. I keep asking the Director if I'm ever going back home but it's been a year and she keeps giving me non answers followed by assignments. I've been running with rookies and vets so I'm not even sure why I'm here beyond to help." He made a face, continuing, "A few of the heroes and villains haven't taken to kindly to me being here, though."

Roderick chuckled. "I've noticed," he stated, gesturing at Liam with his free hand and Liam chuckled, a strained smile pulling at that injured face. Without his bidding, he was cupping Liam's cheek as carefully as he could, the mattress sinking under his weight as he sat on the edge. "Oh, Liam. What did you get yourself into this time?"

Liam pressed his face into Roderick's soft touch, every facade the hero was trying to keep in place shattering with those words. The sob that racked through the injured body made it convulse but the floodgates were open and Liam didn't stop. Roderick - unable to forget about the injuries the other had - wrapped his arms around the other and held him close. He felt Liam's arms wrap around him, holding on as tight as the other could manage as what fingers weren't splint or in a cast gripped at the back of his shirt.

He stayed there for hours even after LIam had fallen asleep. His mind was reeling from not just the beginning of their conversation but everything they had talked about, everything Liam had hiccuped between sobs, everything he had said between his own tears and rage - none of which was directed at Liam. They had talked about everything, about that day, about what had happened since, and what would happen from that point on. And as much as Roderick would have loved to have sent Liam home, he had a feeling a certain head of the hero organization wouldn't allow it. So, he did the only thing he knew he could do.

There was a soft knock on the door and Thirteen entered. He stayed seated in the chair at Liam's side as the subordinate hovered inside the closed door. "You called, sir?"

Roderick stood slowly. "Gather all the subordinates." He locked eyes with the younger. "We have one last job to do."

Determination settled over Thirteen's expression as the other nodded. With a quick turn, they left without another word.

"Rodey?"

He looked down at Liam, finding those sleep heavy eyes on him once more. "What's going on?"

He reached out, carding his hand through Liam's hair, mindful of the stitches hidden beneath. "Nothing you need to worry about right now. Go back to sleep."

Liam shifted his head, pressing a set of stitches against his palm with enough force that it probably hurt but Liam gave no sign that it did. "Please don't be doing something stupid."

Despite every part of him telling him it was a horrible idea to do this all over again, he pressed his lips against LIam's, soothing only a minute part of the hero's worry. But Liam was kissing him back and Roderick found it hard to pull away enough to say the words he wanted to say. A whine escaped Liam at the lost contact but Roderick pressed their foreheads together, assuring him, "I will be careful but it is time I stopped hiding. I won't be their prey any more and neither will you."

Liam blinked up at him, gaze searching. A sort of desperation coursed through him and he captured the other's lips again, though it was brief. "There's a theatre show coming to town in a few weeks. When all of this settles, would you go with me to see it?"

Liam gave him a breathy laugh, tears streaking down the other's face. They both knew that it wasn't likely either of them were making it out of this alive but they sure as hell were going to try.

"Only if you'll finally marry me."

Roderick's heart twisted in his chest. "After everything I've done, you still want to be tied to this fool."

Liam pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss, laughter still bubbling out of them. "I'm not saying you have to marry me tomorrow, but in a few years when we've worked through all the shit we've created I'm asking if you would marry me."

Roderick gave a watery chuckle. "Is that a proposal, Mr. Grace? Because I don't see you down on one knee."

Liam smacked him with the cast, surprising a laugh out of Roderick as he flinched from it, not that there was any pain from the act. "I would be if you didn't have me bedridden, you asshole."

And despite reality edging in closer, Roderick leaned in close again just to be near Liam silently praying that they made it through this. He wanted to properly propose to Liam, to give him the proposal he deserved and a wedding that would steal his breath away.

He prayed to whatever was listening to be kind to them both and let them have this joy forever.

A cynical part of him wasn't holding its breath.

[ArtisticVicu]

RPApril Extravaganza 2019
An Assortment of Writings

RPApril Extravaganza is an annual event on a different site centered around writing. Each section contains the content for that given event.

Each event entry was written to a different word count cap excluding the poetry entry. The Weekly Short Story word count cap was an arbitrary number I had settled on, the rest were in the rules of the event.
The Writing Marathon - 1000 words
Five Words, One Story - 1500 words
Weekly Short Story - 1775 words

Bring Me a Poem!
Inside all of you I can see an incredible poet waiting to fly free. So let that poet out and free to run. You have 28 days to make your rhyme. It can be about love or the beach, dogs, mountains, hockey, or a ripe, juicy peach. Guidelines? Restrictions?- there are none. So go ahead, take a risk and try; spread your pretty poet wings and fly.

Morning's Song

Sunrise.

Something wakes,
be it the birds or the trees, or even a fox in a grove.
Something wakes
and in turn other wake as well.

High speed rubber against concrete,
asphalt
engines that power that speed,
a white noise like rushing water as the wind dances among the trees.

Everything wakes
except for those that night requires,
Everything wakes;
even the brooks and trees and grass.

Morning is here,
consistent,
the sound of distant voices as others start to move about the day,
all of it a part of a larger melody.

It's shattered.

That peace,
that joy,
the simpleness of morning,
it's gone.

Screaming,
shouting,
there are sirens in the distance,
metal contraptions warped beyond recognition.

It's nothing severe,
just a bad morning.
Someone following too close,
someone distracted.

But there are worse.
Things that even distance worsens
where the tears burn as hot as any fire
and the wails of loss ring louder than the morning's song.

Hollow.

For there isn't a word to best describe the lack of sound that comes,
that one where there is no hope,
no desire,
where words are forced to be silent.

Careful feet,
careful tongues,
the soft footfall of unease,
all of it buried beneath what the morning brings.

Or can it be
that those hollow moments,
those instances where there is no sound,
are moments of peace and not mourning?

How far does life stretch?
Is it good?
Is it bad?
Or are the silent sounds always so hollow?

They're not.

Sometimes a breath is needed,
a moment to stop
and reflect,
to let life arrive on its own.

There is a strength in that silence,
a power that some desire,
and some keep
hidden away in the sounds of morning.

A pot brewing in an empty house.
One body moves about.
But there is no pain nor sorrow
as that one body tries to wake.

There is strength in that silence.
It is not the loudest.
But despite how quiet it may be,
it will always be a part

of the Morning's Song.
Weekly Short Story

We want to read your short stories. Be they Zombies taking over the world, Mysteries, Romance, Action Thrillers or anything in-between, get your creative caps on and get something submitted during the week.

Each piece is one part in a continuous story.

The metal of the railing pressed into his forearms, a comfort as he listened to its vibrations and resisted the urge to warp it to his will. As much as he wanted to, it wasn't allowed on property that wasn't his own even if he had every intention of putting it back; at least not here. With the roll of the crowd below, he was rather surprised at how easy it was to pick them out of the crowd. It didn't bode well for anything to come.

"This is your platform," the personnel leading the group spoke, gesturing wide as they reached the top of the stairs. He stepped away from the metal railing and was not surprised that the twins had eyes on him before he had even moved. He didn't like them but that was prejudice talking. And his inability to read the female. Her expressions were always so hard to read. Even now he couldn't tell if she was looking at him with curiosity, boredom, or disdain. "And it looks like the rest of your party is here."

The male twin offered the personnel a soft smile. "Thank you, Ments."

"Of course," the personnel responded with a quick bow. They were down the stairs in hurried steps before the last of the group had made it onto the platform itself.

The male twin turned their focus back onto him and he found himself straightening under that gaze. Even if he couldn't really read them, he knew that both would be able to outmaneuver him in any way, be if physical or mental. "You must be Michael Tron, our...Mecon guide, of sorts."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I was brought to the organization to help you find someone?"

He hated bureaucracy. They hadn't told him anything of use.

"A Myst."

His gaze snapped to the petite girl with hair that looked like it needed a good brushing with what looked to be a small dragon like lizard curled around the back of her neck. Before he could even ask what she had meant by that, the lizard turned into a cloud and he scrambled backwards as it reformed, taking on the shape of something he had never seen before.

His back hit railing as the creature's form settled before him. It had gone from a dragon like lizard no bigger than a fricken snake to being larger than the girl it had been on. it was clearly still a reptile of some sort, scaly skin different shades of blue and green edged in brown with a tail that doubled the body length and a head that was larger than his full of sharp teeth. The front limps curled towards the creature's chest but the claws and flex of muscles spoke to them being as dangerous as the powerful hind legs it walked on as it tipped forward, looking up at him with its head level with his stomach. "Like me."

His grip convulsed around the railing. "So we're looking for a shapeshifter?"

"Of sorts," the male twin offered, running a hand over the creature's back as they approached. He tried to look at them but he found it difficult to look away from the predator before him. "We're fairly certain that this particular Myst won't be changing as fluidly as Lilitu does."

"Lilitu?"

The creature dipped its head. "Standing fast."

He frowned at it. "How do you know that?"

The creature straightened, standing at its proper height. He hated that he was shorter than it, even if it wasn't by much. "I am a Myst. I have been all over Izen, have seen and interacted with most of its cultures. Mecon greetings and introductions are old. Even if I don't know the modern Meco, I know her traditions have not changed."

He took a cautious step away from the rail, finally turning his attention to the male twin. "So why ask for a Mecon guide? I don't see the point of me being here if you've got," he fished for words as he gestured at the creature before him, "whatever that is."

"Because there's more to it than just a simple search and rescue," the male twin informed him plainly.

His expression flattened. "You're expecting to get into trouble with the locals."

The male twin's lips twitched into a smile. "Can you blame me? After all, you already don't trust me and my twin." He clenched his jaw at that. As much as he would have loved to have called the other an assuming racist, it would just make him more of a hypocrite and prove their point. "This way, we can move freely. After all, you would have lead in this."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're not suggesting..."

He couldn't finish it. As much as he was a Mecon and still held to the beliefs of its people, he didn't approve of the class system Meco adhered to.

"If we are under your control, we would be left untouched. You know at minimum what my sister and I are, our worth. If we're not already claimed, it'll only complicate things."

He clicked his tongue in distaste but it made sense. His gaze flickered over the others. "You do realize bringing human children with is dangerous, right?"

The male twin chuckled. "They are not human and far from children."

He frowned and looked to the boy and girl that were standing close to the human girl the creature had initially been with. The two children couldn't have been older than 15, but, then, the human girl looked like she could be the same age. "Fine. Age and race or I'm not going through with this."

"256, Quillian," the girl spoke before gesturing at the boy. "My twin brother."

He looked to the human girl. She smiled and he found himself suddenly on edge. There was something distinctly not human about her. "20, human. I'm from Zec, if that helps."

His disbelief colored his expression. "The ice continent. You do realize you're going to a desert, right?"

She laughed. His apprehension spiked. "I haven't been to Zec in years." She smiled at him. "I'll be fine."

He gave a slow nod before focusing on the twins at her side. "If you want to be taken for Quillians, it would be best to showcase those characteristics. Currently you two look like human children."

The pair shared a look before shrugging in unison. The boy produced a circlet as the girl pulled at her hair, braiding back the strands that hid the markings that marked the difference between humans and Quillians when it was immediately clear. The boy used the circlet to keep his curls off his own markings.

"You're angen." The pair looked at him with identical wide, curious eyes. He clarified, "Your markings, they're agnen markings. You're winged Quillians."

The pair grinned at him but it was the brother that spoke up. "That's impressive! Not many can tell the difference between the Quillian marks."

The male twin - the one still standing before him with the creature - spoke up in curiosity. "You know the differences?"

He shrugged. "I've worked with a number of Quillian before." He focused on the set of smaller twins. "But they were all obviously Quillians. Even the one angen I interacted with was still very much Quillian. Why are you two so human?"

The pair shrugged, grinning again. The sister spoke up. "We're not that strange. A good number of angen are startling human."

"It makes getting around rather easy when all we have to do is hide a few markings," the brother added. "Too many people still see angen as angels sent to save them."

"So your wings?"

The pair pulled at their necklaces, pulling what looked to be two pieces of the same stone. The brother explained, "Most angen can hide their wings with a specific trinket."

"We use what's call a moon stone to either show or hide our wings," the sister continued.

The brother tucked his back into his outerwear. "Most angens keep their wings but ours will disappear."

"There's a cycle to it," the sister amended, tucking her own stone away. "We just use the stones to counter it when we need to."

That only seemed to bred more questions so he simply dropped it for now and focused back on the male twin and creature before him. "I won't be held responsible for the Quillian. Mecon will leave them be anyways unless they do something stupid."

The male twin nodded. "Fair enough." They focused on the other set of twins. "Behave yourself, you two."

The twins saluted, grinning. He wasn't sure if it should be taken seriously.

Rolling his eyes, he focused on the creature. "Return to that first shape of yours. We need you as inconspicuous as possible."

"Is there something specific that would work best?" the male twin inquired.

He shrugged as the creature turned to fog or smoke and drift towards the human girl. "A proper snake is far less conspicuous but anything reptilian would be enough as long as it's not too exotic."

"I can do snake."

He looked over, watching as the creature settled its form and solidified into a brown snake that he couldn't name. To him, at least, it looked like a typical desert snake as it hung in a loose curl around the human girl's neck. Her hand stroked the creature's head.

He turned away before he mentally lost it. "Good enough. Let's go before I bail."

The transportation platform held a circle in which was a complex design he was betting was nothing more than decoration. There were two personnel standing patiently at either edge and he assumed they were the group's transport. He stepped to the center of the circle and waited as the others joined him. He pulled at the metal on his person and started to weave it all into intricately designs cuffs and collars. As each person approached, a cuff and collar settled around their neck even as he kept working on them. By the time they had all settled, the three that needed to be 'claimed' were so properly. He looked to the personnel on his right. The one one his left was obscured by the male twin. "Whenever you're ready."

The personnel nodded and settled into a stance. There was a brief moment where nothing seemed to happen and then the world around them seemed to melt into something completely different.

He took a deep breath of the hot air that hit his face and found it strange that he was glad to be back in Meco's capital, Si'Otwo.
Unlike the fancy transportation hub they had just left, Si'Otwo's transportation hub made the previous one look like it was a strange future with modern tech and whatnot. Si'Otwo's transportation hub was the main city market. The platform they were on was surrounded by a thick crowd of a wide assortment of people wearing a dizzying array of clothing. Sellers were shouting over the roar of the crowd in any number of languages. It was the heavy tongue of Metch that filled the air the most. After all, as much as the world spoke in Altone - the Mecon word for the common language - Meco's native tongue was still a point of pride and every Mecon child was taught Metch first and Altone second. His gaze flickered to the male twin as the other stepped up to his side. The slightly unfocused look in the other's eyes was the only hint he had that the other was piecing something together. "You know Metch?"

"Enough to pass as fluent without being native," the male twin confirmed. Their gaze turned to him. "I can also understand a number of others but speaking them is challenging. My sister can understand all of the major languages of Izen and about a third of the uncommon. She knows two rare and can read one dead language. She can recognize a number of others but cannot translate them."

"Good to know." He turned to look at the given twin. The female twin was standing behind the other three watching him and the male twin. "Can you speak all the ones you know?" The female twin shook their head and made a few quick gestures. It was enough and he turned to the male twin. "Keep with them, then. I don't want to have to hunt for a lost vicu in a city known for its slaver's market."

"Of course," the male twin assured him.

He really ought to have read those files completely. At least he had a set of translators in case things got out of hand. He intended to abuse that knowledge as well but it would be tricky hiding it from those he was exploiting. He'll have to talk to the male twin about that.

"Come on," he spoke, starting down the platform's stairs. "We'd best get moving."

The crowd swallowed him and his group with ease. The human girl and smaller twins stayed close and barely drew eyes - those that were drawn to the human girl were out of curiosity due to the fine clothing she wore as well as the pet she apparently kept and it only made their gazes flicker to him. The other set of twins drew far more eyes and he had expected as much. As much as Mecon culture still had slaves, vicuran servants were hard to come by. Most vicu had long since fled from the country or had remained hidden enough to not be caught and put to work. The good news for them was that they were treated more like servants or employees, given money and some rights, which was far better than the humans who were seen as nothing more than slaves; it was a twisted sort of irony to occur after generations of it being the reverse. But even with the higher standings, vicu were still owned by his kind in Meco and having such fine specimen readily following him without a seeming care was unusual.

He expected issues because of it but not as soon as they stepped off the platform.

The male twin played their part well, though; he didn't even have to say anything and suddenly the male twin was stepping between him and the man that came right up to him smelling of a sickly sweet smoke and fermented grain. Both told him this man had influence and was either a seller or a buyer. It didn't matter which: both were dangerous.

"Good sir, may I trouble you for your property?"

The man - rotund, skin burned red from the sun, and doing everything in his power to get around the steadfast male twin - was clearly a foreigner here who had stayed for the good money.

He sneered at the man. "My property is not for sale. Be gone before I get annoyed enough to sic one on you." He leaned forward a bit and dropped his voice. "And you wouldn't want that, sir."

The man's face went blotchy in anger and he recoiled in disgust. The man pointed a fat finger laden with rings at him, shouting, "Now see here, young man! I will have you know-"

As much as his hate for the vicuran race was ingrained in him, their seamless shifting would always be breath-taking in its own right. The male twin didn't give the man much distance before their body flowed into that of a predator bred between two of the male twin's forms; their clawed hand snapped around the man's wrist faster than they had shifted and sharp teeth were bared with a warning growl. The man's coloring went from blotchy red to sickly pale at the same speed as the male twin had shifted.

"Watch yourself," the male twin growled. "I would rather not relieve you of your arm."

The man swallowed thickly. The male twin released the man's wrist and he watched the man stumble backwards into the surrounding crowd. Now they had every eye on them and he was tempted to do something drastic to get out of it. It wouldn't stop the rumors from beating them through the city but it would at least make him feel better.

"Come on," he spoke, starting for a break in the onlookers that led into the still moving crowd beyond. The break in the onlookers widened for them to pass and he looked back only when the crowd beyond started to swallow him to make sure the others were following.

Not that he needed to. He could feel the metal he had formed on their bodies following him.

The flow of the crowd guided them through the bustling market past stalls and carts brimming with product and the ringing of voices. Jostled this way and that, he started for one of the lesser known exits. The male twin was right behind his shoulder, leaving him feeling more on edge than he would have cared. The break from the crowd was desperately when he finally stepped out of the swarm of people into the side street. He waited for the rest of his company to join him before continuing on.

"How deep into the city are we going?" the male twin inquired after several long minutes walking the nearly deserted side street.

"As far as we need to go." He looked at the twin. "The slaver's market thrives in the veins of this city. If we want to find who you're looking for, we need to start there."

"You think Lucky will be there?"

He frowned at the snake still draped around the human girl's neck. "Lucky?" he parroted.

The snake nodded. It was mildly disconcerting but, then, he didn't hang around the shapeshifters of Izen if he could help it. "The Myst we're looking for. The name they go by is Lucky."

He gave a noncommittal hum. "If someone captured this friend of yours, they would have done so to sell in the slaver's market. It's the first thing we have to at least check. I'm not promising anything."

The street came to another, though this was was a larger thoroughfare. He stopped at the edge of the new street, looking to the left waiting for the traffic to die down enough to cross.

One of the metal sets started towards the right and his head snapped around. The female twin was walking down the new street as if it were perfectly fine for them to wander off as such. He glared at the male twin. "What is your twin doing?"

"She wanted to see the city," the male twin offered. "The street curves and the buildings give way for the view."

They weren't wrong but he didn't like how certain the other sounded. "And how do you know that?"

The male twin offered him a soft smile. "We studied a few maps before we left. That and we have pretty decent vision. I can see the end of the bend in the road where there could be no more structures build on the south side."

He half glared at the male twin for a bit longer before letting out a sigh. "Fine."

He turned finding that the female twin had stopped shortly after he had caught them leaving. They were looking his way, patient yet expectant, like him leading the others to follow their lead was the inevitable outcome.

He wasn't even sure why he was allowing it.

The road curved to the left, putting the sidewalk they were using on the outside edge where the structures gave way. There were always a good number of people there taking in the view, most of them tourists. But despite it being busy, he found himself looking out over Si'Otwo as it stretched out before them. A part of him ached to be back.

The city was massive. There wasn't barren sand to be seen between them and the horizon. To the right was the marketplace itself; on top of an outcrop of the rocky plateau the massive structure cradled the marketplace within pillars, thatched roofs, and canopies. It wasn't so much a solid structure as it was simply made to distinguish the marketplace from the rest of the buildings around while also keeping the hot sun off of the marketplace itself.

The rest of the city was far below, causing the road they were on to weave back and forth down the side of the plateau till it reached flat ground eight bends later. Many of the buildings in the city below were made of stone but it was the ones made out of metal that separated a Mecon city from a city in Qwen. All Quenish cities were made of earth since that was what the country was known for. Meco was known for metal. All like him had roots that tied them back to Meco regardless of where they were born.

He leaned against the guardrail listening to the metal vibrate under his touch speaking of so many things. "Welcome to Meco, the Land of Metal and Sand. To Si'Otwo, Meco's crowning jewel of all her cities. You will never find a city quite like this one." He pushed away from the railing. "Trust me. I've tried."
"So what now?"

He looked over at the male twin finding everyone except for the female twin was looking at him. He still wasn't sure why he got put in charge. "We chat somewhere more private." He started down the winding street aiming for the city's street. "Come on."

He purposely walked slower than he normally would have. He had grown up with this route ingrained into his every fiber before he could even walk properly. He knew what pace the locals walked and what pace the tourists walked. It wasn't hard to suddenly be the only people for a stretch.

He looked back at the pair of taller twins, his gaze going from the female to the male. "How good is your top hearing?"

The female twin cocked an eyebrow as the other offered, "We can make out the conversations beneath us, behind us, and above us quite clearly."

"And you two have wings, right?" The male twin nodded. He looked to the female twin. "The wind should keep you aloft enough for you to hear well enough. If conversations lull in a way that suggests listening, alert your twin but do try to stay in your human form as best as you can. If I can keep from informing any onlookers to you two quite yet, the better. I trust this is a simple task?"

The female twin fell back as white wings solidified into existence on their back. The wings were massive but any aviary expert would be able to tell they were swan wings, if just larger than normal. With calm steps, the female twin walked to the cliff edge of the road and stepped off. Sure enough those large wings outstretched caught the updraft of warm air easily and the female twin was a good few stories above their heads in a matter of seconds.

"And are you able to communicate well enough without making it obvious?" he verified with the male twin.

Said male twin made an odd gesture before offering him a smile. "Quite well. She will let me know if she believes we'll be overheard. Currently she is the center of attention. As are you but it is all speculation conversation, nothing speaking of listening in."

The thin silver chain finally finished forming. It glistened like none other, a clear indicator that the vicu currently flying over their heads was indeed claimed. He wrapped a careful hand around the delicate chain. "Then keep a hold of her tether. It is not meant to keep her in place and will break under even a harmless pull."

Again, the male twin's hand twitched oddly. He knew it was a form of sign language, he wasn't dense, but it seemed far too abrupt and minute to be of any use from that distance.

Another thought came to mind. "Can anyone understand your sign language?"

The male twin's smile grew mischievous. "My sister and I created our own sign language long before I could speak. Our gestures don't have any direct translation so learning any bit of it is near impossible. We do know the common sign as well as the alterations predominant in Shendo and Lihita. We've found this one to simply be more effective."

He nodded. "And safer, since you can't be read."

The male twin dipped their head, the grin settling back into a smile. "What is the plan once we reach the city?"

He focused back on the road before them. "We go into the city's heart. The best place to start looking for your missing shifter will be the slaver's market if not the underground market itself."

"The underground market?"

He shrugged. "The slaver's market's black market of sorts. Most of the exotics get sent to the underground market because their either illegal, have a better chance of fetching a higher price there, or are being looked for. Most buyers in the underground market don't want to be associated with the market or its goods and so can the sellers. If I was a seller, I would definitely take your missing shifter there for two of those reasons if not all three. Seeing as I don't know how rare your shifter's kind is, that may be another reason."

The snake on the human girl's shoulders puffed up as best a snake could. "What other reason?" it demanded.

He gave it a flat look. "Rarity." He focused on the road again. "The more rare it is, the more narrow the audience. Higher buyers will go to the underground market looking for specifics. If you know where to sell, you get a better chance of finding a buyer. If you know what buyers with large wallets are looking for, the better the profit is for the seller."

The male twin covered the snake's head as it reared up to spit something else out. "So where is this underground market."

He shook his head. "It can't be located by conventional means. I've only been there twice and both times were through locations at opposite ends of the map. The underground market is known for hosting auctions in other countries, even. It's not called the underground market for nothing."

"Subterranean locations."

He nodded. "As well as under the radar of most governments. The only country slavery is even legal is Meco but most that are bought are slaves kept from escaping through horrible means or are specimen for any sort of thing, from fine dining to all sorts of experiments. That's why the only way to get there is through being a buyer or a seller. Going in as a seller would be easy but I would have to put one of you up for auction and I would rather avoid that for an absolute last resort. I can't promise being able to get any of you back doing that."

"Can you prove to be a buyer, instead?"

He smirked. "I have a pair of rare, twin vicu and a human girl well tended claimed as mine. They won't ask for proof until the auction actually starts. There's a viewing before hand of some of the merchandise. If I can convince them well enough of my intentions, then we could be shown this other shifter too if they have one in house."

"And if they're not?"

He shrugged. "We have ears in the market and word of what we're looking for. If nothing else, we'll be informed when another pops up and we can swoop in and save it."

There was a brief silence behind him. Eventually the male twin offered, "We've got curious ears getting closer. We may also have a tail."

There was the sound of wings and he looked back to watch the female twin land. The chain he had made from the vicu's collar was absorbed back into the collar. "Good work. We'll see how good of a tail it is once we reach the busier streets."

For the first time since stating what she was, the human girl spoke up. "We can ditch them in this?"

He glanced back with the intent to answer but it was the sister of the smaller twins that beat him to the punch. "We can, but it may get tricky."

"I can keep an eye on them?" the brother offered, feet light on the pavement as he seemed to grow excited.

He narrowed his eyes at them. "What are you two going on about?"

The set of smaller twins looked ready to answer but the male twin put a hand on their heads. Said male twin gained both sets of curious eyes. "Later. When we're not being observed. We're getting too close to strangers for it to be safe."

The male twin was right. They had one last bend in the road that led directly into the city and there were people loitering near the edge of the road they were going to be passing.

"Keep an eye on what you can, Dynasty. Destiny, don't get lost in possibilities."

The set of twins nodded. The male twin moved their touch from head to shoulder but did not let go of either twin after that. A part of him wondered the full explanation as the smaller set of twins gained expressions that made him think they were exhausted, bored, or zoned out. He had read their files, hadn't he? They had some sort of ability, right?

The city came up and swallowed them as quickly as the market had. Here the variety of clothing was far less compared to the market but still plentiful. His attire alone would only stand out minutely compared to the tourists that wandered around. The rest of his companions, though, stood out sharper than he did.

It took about fifteen minutes for him to decide it was to their benefit and to their downfall in equal parts.

He stopped at the window of a popular shop, taking in the attire on display. The male twin - ever skilled at their roll - stepped up without his beckoning. He turned, softly pulling on the human girl's collar. Her eyes widened but she obediently walked up to him as he muttered to the male twin, "How much credit do you have on you?"

The female twin had moved to block him from view of the street and his fretting of the human girl's attire had his back to the window enough to hide his lips from there as well. The male twin looked down at him but kept the conversation discrete. "Enough. What are you thinking?"

"We need to ditch our tail and get you all better clothes. You're going to stand out enough as it is. I don't want to draw attention again if I can help it."

The male twin hummed and moved to the two Quillians. He gestured for the human girl to turn and she did just that. He went about pretending to care about her garb, feigning considering new clothing styles and the trio spoke so quietly, he couldn't even hear the edges of their voices in the crowd."

The male twin was back as he ran out of things to do to look busy with the human girl. The male twin spoke in turn, "Destiny says entering this shop will lead to us getting into the underground market willingly."

He arched an eyebrow. "Are they certain?"

Which one was Destiny again?

"Very."

It was good enough for him. He turned and entered the shop. Nearly every staff member looked his way and he got the distinct impression he had entered somewhere he shouldn't have but there was no sense of turning back now.
He did his best not to let his trepidation show. It must have worked enough because one of the closest employees approached him. She was much smaller than him but he felt the metal she carried and knew she would manipulate if she needed to.

He was also certain he could overpower any manipulation she tried.

"Welcome, sir," she offered cordially. "Is this your first time visiting?"

He felt her try and control the collars of his and he placed himself in her space. Her metal sang under his control and she stared wide-eyed at him as he pulled it from her. "Do not touch what is mine without expressed permission," he warned, coiling her metal behind him in an impressive display of control. "You will not be able to overpower me and I do not want to have to put you in your place if you tried."

Her face turned bright red with her shame and embarrassment as he returned her metal to the shape and place it had been before he had taken over. She opened her mouth but he was already turning away, silencing her before she had the chance to speak again. His heart was pounding in his chest. Why had they put their lives in his hands again?

"We are leaving," he spoke to the other but there was no real desire to leave the shop. They needed the underground market. Either the employee that approached him either knew his lack of desire or was desperate.

"Sir, a moment."

He turned looking to the older man that had spoken to him. If he had to guess, the man was probably old enough to be his father. "I am Perix, manager of this establishment. I wish to offer an apology on behalf of my employee. We do not often gain patrons of your caliber and this was her first interaction with one such as yourself."

He scoffed. "Do you not train them?"

His skin crawled at the thought of the role he had shoved himself into.

The man gave a shallow bow. "Absolutely, but due to the rarity customers such as yourself are, she has yet had any experience beyond yourself to make sure the information is retained."

"She best retain it after this," he ground out. "I'm not so certain I will return after such an interaction." There was a flicker of annoyance in the man's eyes but the man's expression remained calm. He almost let the smirk cross his face. Or maybe it did slip forth as the man's expression turned a bit confused. He ran with it, grateful for an excuse to shake off the persona that made his skin crawl. "How am I not surprised this isn't the first time you've had to deal with this kind of situation?" The confusion took over the man's expression completely. He waved it off. "I am not pleased she tried to take control the second time but I understand the reasons for the first. Unfortunately I'm very....particular about those that are mine. I have lost one due to someone's idiocy before. I am not keen on letting that happen again."

The man nodded with a neutral expression once more. "Of course, sir." Had they truly been his, he probably would have been offended when the man's gaze flickered to his companions. "I offer my sympathy. Do you have intentions of replacing it?"

"Replacing it? No," he spoke. "They were unique. There is no replacing when it comes to something like that."

The bell over the door rang out. It took all he had not to look over. He trusted at least one of the others to take in whoever entered. The man before him, though, looked over before offering him an encouraging smile. "I know they are not of much condolence but I can show you some of our more finer pieces freshly made in the back for yours."

He arched an eyebrow. "Lead the way."

The man led them through the shop to the back. The man opened the door to a back hallway and he stepped through the door without hesitation. There was a pause as everyone filed in and the man pulled the door shut. He fell into step next to the man as they were led down the hall.

"How unique was the one you lost?" the man inquired.

He gave the man a flat look. "Unless you are taking me to a viewing of some 'replacements', I have no reason to show you."

The man sent him a smug look. "I can make that happen."

"At a price, I'm sure."

The man chuckled. "You are quite perceptive for your young age."

He snorted. "And you're not, old man. So the shop manager persona's just an act?"

"Hmm, no," the man offered. "I can be quite cordial if I wish to be. I simply have less patience behind closed doors."

"Fair enough," he stated, getting straight to the point. "I want access to the Underground."

"That unique?"

He stopped and turned, the group stopping in turn. He reached out, hand towards the snake around the human girl's neck. "I had two of these. I want another or nothing at all."

Despite not having said anything, the creature understood and turned to smoke that drifted towards him. It reformed into some sort of bird he had never seen that was massive. If he had to guess, its wingspan was now longer than the tallest twins were tall. It was an imposing sight and he appreciated the decision without guidance. The man beside him was stiff as the creature stared him down with brilliant eyes that looked like molten gold still churning.

"If there is one to be set for auction, I'm sure the Magistrate will know."

He focused a hard gaze on the man. "Not a word of this to anyone else, Perix. You're death won't be pleasant if you slip."

The man bowed, not even phased by the threat. As uneasy as it made him, it was a good sign. "Of course, sir. Let me take you to the Magistrate."

The rest of the walk was in silence. He sent the creature back to the human girl where it returned to the shape it had been when he had first seen it. If any of the others were phased by what had happened, they didn't show it.

The man came to a stop at some seemingly random door and produced a key. It looked too small for the lock but he still inserted it and gave a full rotation before removing it and opening the door. Beyond the door was a massive showing space and he knew immediately where they were stepping into. Without even looking back, he thinned their collars to chain them to each other. There were no complaints and the way the collars shifted under his awareness told him that the twins were book-ending the group. The male twin was at his shoulder, the female twin at the back; the entire group was close and pressed in together. It was less likely they would get picked off like that and he was glad for the silent communication that seemed to happen.

The man noticed. "You have very obedient claimed, sir. Even the Quillian?"

"They are in my care as a favor to someone I owed," he offered nonchalant. "Those collared are simply well trained and intelligent. They know how to behave."

Silence lapsed over them again as the man continued on, weaving this way and that through the expansive showroom. It was near the point he was about to ask how much farther they had to go when the man turned and started down a secluded hallway. The space quickly became less showy and he realized they were being led into the back areas of the market. A cacophony of sounds started reaching them. It wasn't till they were almost upon the source that he realized it was a variety of creature screams and people shouting. They stepped into a space that wasn't very wide but it was long. It looked like the main thoroughfare for goods drop-off and pick-up. There were a number of creatures being wrestled into new cages, crates of goods moved with careful crews, and yet the man did not stop.

They took the thoroughfare for quite a distance before the man slipped down a new hallways. This time there was only one creature sound coming from ahead of them but plenty of voices shouting.

The room they stepped into was small compared to the other two spaces they had crossed through but it was still huge. In the center of the room was some sort of creature struggling against the metal restraints. Out of the swarm of people. there was one standing to the side watching all of it.

"Wait here," the man said, rushing off to speak to that person.

He turned his attention back on the creature. He felt the restraints break in one section and that seemed to be all it needed. In a sudden burst of smoke, the creature's shape reformed into a massive dragon.

He now knew why they were in such a large room, though he thought it was still a stupid idea.

Something shot past him as the human girl behind him screamed, "NO!"

Another surge of smoke and suddenly there was a second dragon screaming too. Rage surged through him speckled with panic as he took a step forward. The workers were already moving to corral the creature but he did it first. Liquid metal seemed to quickly form out of thin air in floating globs before strands shot out and wrapped around the creature that was under his protection. He made the bindings hurt both because he was furious and because it was to be expected. He shoved the creature to the ground and pinned it without moving a muscle. He sneered down at it as it whined, its muzzle bound shut. "Return to form," he barked in the echoing silence. "Now!"

The creature's large form seemed to puff into smoke that quickly condensed and solidified against the human girl's chest as a mouse. The human girl's hands came up to cradle it.

He let his gaze drift over the room, taking in all the people watching him. Before his gaze settled, he took in the other creature that was now pinned to the ground staring at him. He looked to the person the man had gone to. They had an intrigued look on their face and he wasn't sure he could get them all through this alive anymore.
Five Words, One Story

I want to see what your clever brains can bring me. Every Friday of this glorious April, I will gift you five things to anyone who wishes to participates. It is up to you, my friends. Make them into a story. Let your mind bring these random words to life. Dream up a world of dancing bunnies, a talking ironing board or heck...even an angry teddy bear ready to bring chaos to this world. Entries may be anywhere from 500 to 1,500 words.

This continues a story started in RPApril Extravaganza 2018 Five Words, One Story, Week 2 - Life Cycles ('https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=95786&page=3&p=3073120&viewfull=1#post3073120'). Each week's words are in bold.

He woke slowly. Thoughts muddled together incoherently leaving him to wallow in the ache of his body. Honestly, he wished he had stayed unconscious. Everything hurt - some parts more than others - and even the thought that pulled itself from the rest of possibly feeling more pain due to waking fully was not welcomed.

But no matter how he tried to bury himself back under the dark recesses of blissful unconsciousness, it slipped farther and farther from reach till he was opening his eyes and greeting the world that awaited him.

The view wasn't quite what he had expected.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting as he took in the unfamiliar roof overhead. Maybe a night sky or something equally wild but it was the reason behind those expectations that eluded him. Everything was still rather muddled in his head leaving memories to be swallowed up by dreams and fantasies with no differentiating between them and reality. But at least his current reality was dry and warm.

And soft, he realized. Whatever he was lying on and covered by were equal parts soft. It felt almost wrong even as it soothed some of the ache in his body.

A hand came into view and with it the birthmark on the wrist.

He hissed, memories suddenly tearing themselves from the muddled mess in his mind and he made to move away, to put distance between him and the person he wanted nothing to do with for the rest of the cycle.

His efforts bore him nothing more than searing pain.

"Easy," an all too familiar voice urged, careful hands pinning him down. "Easy."

"What do you want," he spat, glaring up at a sea of gold that's only flaws were two islands the same color as water. He blinked and the other's features separated out, though those blue eyes still bore into him despite his cleared sight.

They frowned at him. Was that a pang of guilt or pity in their expression? "For you to rest," they chided as if his comment warranted such a respond. And maybe it did - maybe he was relying on ingrained habits too hard in this situation and finding anything and everything to fight the hero with, but he was too damn tired and in too much pain to care. Despite the hero being, well, a hero, he didn't trust them to not have ulterior motives with helping him. He wondered if they knew that somehow as they sighed, shaking their head. "Just...rest, ok? You suffered some serious injuries when you hit the water at both ends and it'll take time for the healer to arrive so it would probably be best if you didn't agitate any of it by moving."

He gave them a flat look even with them not looking at him. "And how, exactly, do you expect me to go however long it'll be before the healer arrives without moving? I'll still have to eat, drink, and use the restroom." His eyes narrowed, a suspicion rolling through him. "How long will it take for the healer to arrive? Hours?"

The hero closed their eyes and he felt his stomach drop out as they opened their mouth.

"Days."

His mouth went dry.

"Possibly a week." The hero let out a sharp breath and he was surprised when frustration and remorse twisted the hero's expression. The strangest part was that neither were directed at him. "I hate the limits of this cycle. A quick phone call and you'd already be at some major hospital getting proper aid for your injuries."

"And exactly how bad are they?"

The hero flinched. He could almost feel their breath escaping them as if he had slammed his fist into their gut. It took a moment for them to gain that breath back. The longer it took, the more numb he became to his own emotions.

"If we don't get you help soon, fatal," the hero finally confessed. "And not the fast kind of fatal, either."

The bitter chuckle was breathy but it still sent waves of pain through his body. Their hands on him didn't help but he didn't care to use the energy to fight them off. He was too busy shoving down the anger at having been saved and the fear of what kind of death he was subjected to this time. "And you're caring now because why?"

The hero shook their head causing their golden hair to halo around their head. "This is different. You weren't supposed to fall."

"Oh? Says who?"

"Says me."

It would seem he was in for numerous surprises that particular day as he rolled his eyes. "Oh please. The number of times you've met an untimely end, you haven't seen me wasting my time trying to save you."

"Neryk," they tried to plead but he was already cutting them off.

"How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that, Kyren," he spat. He paid for it with a spasm of pain but it was worth it, even if all it did was make them chuckle. Not his intent but he much preferred it to the self deprecating tendencies that were starting to show. "Now get me up and out of this bed. I don't want to be trapped here if I can help it."

"Please, Ne-"

"Don't," he spat, moving to stop them out of instinct than thought through action and he paid for it. By the time the pain had diminished enough for him to think, he was far too exhausted to even breathe. Unfortunately for him, his brain wasn't about to let him suffocate and he doubted the hero would as well.

"Where did you want to go?" they asked softly, their voice curling around him carefully, gently.

He took in a deeper breath in hopes it would push back the exhaustion; it didn't and despite his desire for blissful unconsciousness earlier, he wanted to stay awake. "Just outside. If this is the last night I'm able to even sit up straight without keeling over dead in this cycle, I want to at least see the stars clearly one last time."

"Do you want to sit in a chair or be laid out?"

He went to shrug and regretted it. "Whichever is easiest that won't cause me tremendous pain."

The hero got to their feet, pointing out, "The trip there will be horrendously painful."

He gave a sharp, humorless grin in turn. "I'm counting on it."

It was probably not the wisest thing to say and it wasn't like he cared. He knew it was going to be excruciating and having them point this out was helping no one.

He groggily realized that he had been moved but he didn't remember the trip, nor the hero picking him up. It was probably for the best as the sea of gold and its two blue islands filled his view again till his sight cleared enough to discern the hero's features; it was hard to miss the streaks of blood on the hero's chest. "Seems I bled on you."

Was he seeing things or was that really relief in the hero's expression. "You've been doing that quite a bit. I'll have to make sure to bill you for the dry cleaning in a few cycles."

He gave them a flat look. Or at least attempted to. It felt strange on his face. "It's not going to be there in a few cycles, you nitwit."

The hero laughed, settling more next to him.

It was then that he became aware he was lying on his back underneath a never ending sky.

The brightest star he saw wasn't a star at all, but Mars reflecting the sun from its position in the solar system. He wondered if it would be just as easy to find in the next cycle.

"You let me know when you want to go back in," the hero informed him, settling back on their hands to watch the sky.

"Ok," he replied as his eyes roamed the rest of the sky he could see.

Slowly it all started to fade and as much as he wanted to fight the impending sleep, he went without a fight.

When he woke next, it was to the sight of some unfamiliar room and the slow reintegration into a new cycle.

His memories started sorting themselves out. It took some time so he remained on his chest in the strange yet familiar bed staring at the black and white image of a cowboy hat sitting on a table, the background blurred enough that the people in it were nothing more than rough shapes - the pair dancing alone in the negative space to the upper left of the hat almost becoming a single odd shape because of it. A satin cushion a third of the size of the hat sat on the table under the blurry dancing pair, two wedding bands on display against the small cushion's fabric.
He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to break him.

The body beside him woke with a gasp. The mattress dipped as they moved abruptly but he refused to look over despite knowing the body next to him - kissing the planes of that toned stomach, tracing muscled arms and legs and neck and back - was occupied by someone he didn't want to deal with right now.

-smiling kisses against a butterfly birthmark on the inside of their wrist-

He nearly leapt out of his skin when a broad hand wrapped around his shoulder and yanked him back. He hissed some protest only to find himself suddenly pinned under a face that was too familiar despite not having seen it for countless cycles.

"Neryk."

As much as he wanted to hiss at that too, to shove them away like he always did and berate them for using that name, he couldn't now. That was his name this cycle; that was the only name they could call him here.

"Is there a reason you're man handling me?" he challenged, the words coming off as bored.

Something flickered in the other's face and it was all he could do to swallow against the lump in his throat now trying to choke him into the next cycle.

"You just died on me," the hero spoke, their voice quaking in a way he hadn't heard in the longest time. "You...I thought...."

The words died in their throat. He didn't react as they pressed their face into his collarbone. Instead, he simply responded, "Kyren, I have died on you how many times before. There is nothing different between them and the last one."

The other jerked back to look down at him, flabbergasted and with eyes brimming with tears. It was an odd sight after cycles of not seeing it. "Yes there is!"

"Anything not influenced by this new cycle?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

He rolled out from under the other and stood up from the bed. "I'm going to go make coffee. Do you want any?"

"Sure," was his single word response.

He didn't look back.

Kyren joined him ten minutes later. He had just settled at the table with two steaming mugs of coffee and the sound of a songbird out in the foliage beyond closed windows and doors. It looked like it might rain despite the sunlight earlier. The other slipped into the chair next to him despite the other's coffee having been placed at the opposite seat. Kyren simply reached across and pulled the mug across the table, the butterfly birthmark on full display with the action.

He buried his face into his mug, ignoring that and the glint of metal on the other hand.

"How did we end up in this mess?"

The words were soft, careful even, but there was a sorrow to them that drew his gaze. Kyren wasn't looking at him, instead intent on some peanut retrieved from who knew where that they were rolling about under their finger.

He picked his mug up. The silence stayed for just a moment longer before he finally replied, "By being the complete idiots that we are."

He threw back the rest of his coffee as the other picked up the peanut and took a shot at the sink. It bounced off a tin in the window that looked like a cassette tape and ricocheted away from the sink, bouncing on the counter to eventually hit the floor. He didn't see where it stopped.

"Why?" Kyren finally spoke, standing from their chair. "Why did we let ourselves become enemies, fight each other so viciously for cycles, when we had loved so deeply?" He watched them bend over and scoop the peanut up. "Why didn't we stop it ourselves?"

Kyren deposited the peanut in the trash instead of the sink. He didn't have any answers to give.

He stood and took his empty mug to the sink. He took the time to wash it thoroughly only to find arms wrapping around his middle near the end. The other pressed their face against the back of his head, arms tight and secure. He found himself leaning into Kyren's chest despite his desire to keep distance between them.

"We have to talk about this," Kyren muttered into his hair.

He sighed. "I know."

One of Kyren's hands settled on his pectoral, fingers brushing at his collarbone. "Neryk," the other began but it seemed words were not easy today. He expected it would be the same if the situation was reverse. "I...there is so much I have to apologize for."

The laugh that escaped him was weak and far more breathy than it normally would have been but it still startled him. It was enough to loosen his tongue as he responded, "Why are you the one apologizing? I was the villain."

"But you still loved me."

He tensed at that and it was all he could do not to throw the other off of him. He found himself facing the other instead with their arms still around him. "How would you know?" he hissed. There was an edge to it that spoke too much of the raw wound he had forgotten about. That blessed ignorance wasn't coming back and it infuriated him. "I met you head on, did awful things to everyone."

"Because you tried reaching out first."

His eyes closed against that. They were right, of course. He had been the first to offer the olive branch in the beginning even without the memories of where they had started. Even now - reintegrated with the cycle they had originally started in - he could not remember what truly happened to have them jump that first time, nor how they had been pitted against each other. Too many cycles were blending in the beginning that he only had impressions from what he knew were a small handful.

"And I should have listened."

He shook his head, countering, "You truly believed their words. Even if you had listened, you wouldn't have believed any of it, wouldn't have changed."

"I could have tried!"

"And we still would have ended up fighting," he cut through. He shook his head again, gesturing around them. Neither of us remembered this and I can almost guarantee neither of us remember what even led to...that."

Kyren flinched and, for the first time since waking up, a numbing sort of betrayal swept over him. "You remember more than I do," he added, his voice quiet, sharp, and all too familiar.

Kyren's gaze was suddenly pleading. "Please, Neryk. Don't do that. Don't become the villain again without letting me even try to help you remember."

He shoved at the other's arms. "What's the point? This cycle will end like all the others and we'll just be right back at it for eternity, forever dancing in the role of protagonist and antagonist."

Kyren's hand wrapped around his wrist stopping him from getting far.

"I don't think there's one after this one."

Ice shot through his veins. He would call it dread but the word didn't seem potent enough. He turned his gaze back onto Kyren and demanded, "What do you mean."

Somewhere he knew the other was right but not knowing why wasn't helping the ice in his veins.

"I...there's too much blending but I know this is it. There's no more cycles, no more livings fake lives if we die now."

He yanked his wrist from the other's grip. He hadn't tried very hard but it still came free. "So, what? You want me to take a leap of faith?"

"Please?"

He blinked, surprised.

Kyren shook their head, offering, "I don't want to go back to the way things had been. I want to try this all again, actually commit to...to us. We married each other all those cycles ago and I want to make it work." A tight, guarded smile was sent his way. "Even with all the fighting, I still fell for you all over again."

He gave a huff of a laugh. "I hope not for my 'evil ways' and abusive charm."

Kyren shook his head again. "It was your mind, your wit. How you stayed consistent through it all. I was ever changing yet you always found me - always knew who I was despite the face I was wearing - and that spoke more to me than any other action you ever did."

He shook his head in turn. "We can't just brush the past aside."

"You're right. But we can at least move on from it. We can learn and grow and never do it again. But it has to be on equal parts. I won't force you back into this."

Neryk found it hard to deny them that. He could try, for their sake, but he knew it wasn't going to be easy.

That potential rain arrived drowning out the silence and matched his trepidation. He stepped forward and captured the hero's lips with his.
The hero gave underneath him and kissed him back with none of the reservation that he had. His breath was stolen from him and it was all he could do to keep himself grounded in the present. The kiss broke. His words followed after the other's lips, "I'll give this a try if you're willing to hear me out and actually listen."

This time the hero captured his lips and it really did rip the breath from his lungs. He clung to the other with all his might, straining against the sudden overwhelm.

His chest hurt.

They parted again but where he felt winded and unable to breathe, Kyren was grinning at him. "Absolutely. I will absolutely hear you out."

The hero's lips were on his again and he gave into the bliss.

He pulled away with a gasp when it suddenly felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. But instead of actually moving, there was a sudden wave of vertigo that had his insides rolling. He wasn't given the chance to even think that sensation through before he was rolling onto his side coughing up some sort of liquid. Bile blended with it and he grimaced at the taste as his body rejected something.

A sharp breeze sliced through his attire and he came to the realization he was sopping wet.

His head spun again but for a completely different reason.

With a sharp twist of his torso, he found himself staring at the hero but they were not in the cycle he had just been in. In fact, from their expression, it almost seemed like they hadn't experienced any of that. They were concerned, worried, but there was no panic and what relief was there seemed guarded.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to pass out or be violently ill.

He pressed the heel of a hand against his eye trying to stem off the headache that had roared to life thudding behind his eyes. The sand sticking to his still damp hand was an uncomfortable grit between skin but it was nothing to the chaos that was choking him nearly as thoroughly as the water had.

Had that all just been another dream?

He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or scream. Whatever was going on, it was slowly breaking him and he wasn't sure he could handle another dream like that. Already he was feeling far too brittle to even handle the one he was living.

"Neryk."

He flinched away from the touch on his shoulder even as he snarled, "Don't touch me."

The hero's expression tightened but they remained steadfast as they spoke. "Neryk, you almost asphyxiated for the second time in less than an hour. We need to get you checked over before you keel over dead."

"Why does it matter?" he found himself grounding out. "It's not like it changes anything."

"Do you really want to die again?" He looked over at the hero, their expression still taught from whatever initial thought had gone through their head. "Do you hate all of this that much?"

He couldn't help how sharp the bark of laughter was. He was glad it didn't actually hold any humor; he doubted he even had a sense of humor anymore. "What is there not to hate?" he challenged. "Cycle after cycle we fight: hero against the villain. And cycle after cycle, one of us dies sending us into the next cycle. It's not like it hasn't been that way for eons."

"Neryk," they spoke again but he shoving at them. Surprise shot through him along with the pain; it would seem him trying to die twice was not kind on the body.

"Stop calling me that," he spat, left arm curling more towards his chest as it continued to spasm despite how he tried to brush it off. The hero's gaze was on that arm anyways. "We've been through too many cycles as enemies to start caring about each other now."

A different kind of pain shot through his core at his own words. Dream after dream told him he felt otherwise.

"Yet you still care."

He recoiled from it like it was a physical blow. A hiss of air escaped from behind clenched teeth and it was all he could do to not grab for one of the hidden weapons he knew the other had and drive it into flesh where armor was nonexistent. He wasn't happy they were his only options. The hero would have a chance to stop him before he got a solid hold on any weapon. Too bad their sword wasn't in its scabbard. Then he might have actually followed through with the intention.

"I stopped caring a long time ago," he countered but it sounded more like a confession to his ears. It made his insides twist uncomfortably. "Just as you've stopped being quite the motivated hero."

Said hero gave a shrug and he was suddenly struck with how tired the hero looked. Even now, the more he looked, the more clear the signs became: dark circles under those blue eyes, skin lacking any luster, of how the armor had looked as if it was on a body just a touch too small and far heavier than the light metal it was constructed out of. He had meant the words to be a jab, not a literal description of the hero. His gaze narrowed as he frowned at the hero. "Why are you neglecting yourself?"

The hero offered him a tight smile. "Can't seem to get any sort of decent sleep. Any time I close my eyes to do so, the dreams that follow are torturous."

"Like good cycles ending horribly wrong," he muttered.

The hero nodded despite his unintended comment. "Or turning into fake cycles. At first they had been our typical 'good concurring evil' repeats. They were reflections of my desire to win in those cycles. But now..." The hero's gaze wandered back towards the lake it felt like he hadn't seen in ages. The crescent moon was still overhead bright as ever beside Venus. "Now they're strange and twists and so bitter sweet that it hurts. Cycles of us living domestic lives together, happy, content....confessions gone right and lives lived on after that. But so many end with one of us dying at the twisted hand of the other and I can't bring myself to want to live through those again and again."

He didn't realize he was running his hand through his hair till he felt the sand peppering the back of his neck, his face, and the top of his head as it was brushed free by the gesture. A lot of it stayed in his hair even after his attempts of brushing it all away. "How regular are those kind now?"

"Almost constant," the hero offered, now sounding as tired as they looked. Their gaze turned to him again with a haunted edge to it. "Despite how much I can't bare to watch us turn on each other in the end, it's the ones where we're happy together that I wake up from that I fear the most."

He rubbed at his face again. The grit of sand was missing. "Why are these happening?"

There was a pause before they spoke but he was certain they has shrugged. "Maybe we've reached the breaking point, as if we were never made to live cycle after cycle with so many memories."

"So, what? We look for some sort of eternal dragon to grant our wish to end these cycles?" he challenged, the thought of all of this ending scaring him more than he had expected. "What if this is all life is? Cycle after cycle of the same thing, of always going up against each other as the hero and the villain?"

"Then we make the best of it," the hero offered. There was no real conviction behind their words. Even they thought it was a weak counter.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, stumbling his way to his feet. The hero didn't reach out to help him. He looked down at them but he wasn't sure if he felt disdain or nothing at all. "When you think of something better, let me know. I'm going to go after this fabled wish granter and see if they can't end this, even if it takes cycles."

The hero let him walk away.

He tried to deny the hurt that burned through him at that.

The hero's companions descended on the hero as soon as he was what they deemed far enough away. Their chatter filled the air till he was well out of range and the only sound keeping him company afterwards was his shoes against the ground, be it gravel, sand, or dirt.

There, at the edge of his hearing, a new sound filled the silence. He came to a stop, frowning in the sounds direction.

Why was someone playing the cello so far from anywhere?
It was a heavy sound, one that made him yearn for better things, for brighter things, but as much as it was a disheartening sound, it was just as beautiful and he found himself losing awareness of the land around him.

“You hear it too?”

He looked over, finding he couldn’t remember closing his eyes. Standing a few paces off panting was the hero. There was a wild look to their eyes edged in desperation.

“What is it?” he asked, though he felt he should know the answer.

The hero shook their head. “The others can’t hear it. I saw you stop and thought that maybe you could.”

He frowned and turned his attention back towards the source of the music. He couldn’t see it but he was certain he was looking in the right direction. “Magic, then?”

“That’s only affecting us?” the hero challenged, though it was more of a desperate question than confrontational. “That hasn’t happened before. We’ve never been separate enough from the cycle to be picked out like that.”

He shook his head. “What else could it be? There’s no tech in this cycle and there certainly isn’t a cello that has been made that can be loud enough to not even see it across the open plains.”

The hero looked out over the expanse as he had and he saw the despair grow. He took a step towards them. “Kyren.” Their gaze snapped to him. “Go back. Stay with your companions. If it’s anything dangerous, I’ll deal with it.”

“Neryk–”

He cut them off. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. Get going. And don’t look back.”

The hero took a step back towards their companions but he watched as determination settled into their expression. “No. If you’re going to go figure out what it is, then I’m going with you.”

He scoffed, ignoring the part of him that was grateful for the company. “Do what you want then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you if you get yourself killed.”

There was no telling how far out the sound’s source was but the best way to find out was to start walking. The hero fell into step beside him and for a moment he expected it to be a tense silence. Instead, there was a sense of comfort as they walked beside him, their footfall routinely synced with his only to fall into a counter rhythm before syncing back up.

The music never got louder.

“How long do you think we’ve been walking?” the hero asked quite some time later. He was surprised it had taken them this long to break the silence. But, then, it wasn’t like there had been much to talk about before then.

“I don’t know.” He searched out the moon only to find clouds had moved in. He couldn’t even remember where it had been in the sky to begin with. It coaxed a frown onto his face. “An hour, maybe? Maybe less?”

The hero hummed but said nothing more. He looked to them, frowning. “Why are you walking with me?”

They looked at him. “You were the only one to hear the music too.”

He shook his head. He realized he was doing that quite a bit. “No, why aren’t you dragging your companions with? Why are you choosing to walk with me and only me?”

Something hard crossed the hero’s expression. “They wouldn’t come with.”

His eyes widened at that. “They didn’t believe you?”

The hero shook their head. “No matter how many different ways I tried to get them to help me find the sound, they wouldn’t have anything to do with it. It got to the point that they started accusing you of tainting me in some way.” The hero raised their chin, expression set. “So, I told them I thought better of them and left them where they stood.”

“And none of them followed?”

That cut through the bravado the hero was showcasing. “Yeah. None of them followed.” They shrugged. “Can you blame them? I was starting to sound crazy even to myself.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t excuse their disloyalty. I thought they would follow you anywhere.”

“Just not after some sound they can’t hear.”

He found no words to offer in turn. Looking forward again, he let the silence settle over them. Only the cello’s beautiful, morose song and the sound of their feet on the ground kept it from being absolute.

There was a thud from behind his right side.

He turned to look.

It took far too long for his brain to register that the hero had collapsed.

“Kyren!” he called, running over. He grabbed them and rolled them over. He pressed his ear to their chest as he hovered his hand over their nose and mouth. He could still hear a pulse and the soft puffs against his hand told him they were still breathing. The relief wasn’t given a chance to grow as he reached over and started to try and shake them awake. “Kyren. Wake up. Come on, wake up, you idiotic hero.”

Nothing.

It didn’t matter what he tried to do, he couldn’t wake them up.

Exhaustion washed over him and he suddenly found it very difficult to keep his eyes open as the cello music sounded like it was all around him. He fought against the encroaching darkness and tried to keep his eyes open but he wasn’t given much ground to fight on and no matter how hard he fought what was becoming an inevitable sleep, the last thing he took in was his head making its way to the hero’s chest, eyes on their face. Their heartbeat blended with the music from the cello that pulled him into the sudden sleep.

For a moment that seemed long and languid, all he knew was darkness. No thoughts intruded, no fears, nothing but a sense of peace. Slowly, though, he started hearing thoughts. There were whispers in his mind - some that sounded like his voice, some that did not - that spoke of many things he did not retain. It was like each piece was a secret he was supposed to know. There were voices he had never heard before speaking, talking over him, and one voice that cut through the unfamiliar that jolted him awake.

He tried to sit upright but hands were upon him in an instant and it was instinct that had him going for a knife that wasn't there. He fought them off as best he could, the world he was seeing not making any sense in his brain yet.

"Neryk! Calm down! You're safe now!"

He froze, seeking out the voice demanding him to stop. He found the voice and didn't recognize the face. He wasn't even sure if he recognized the voice despite every cell of his being screaming that it knew them.

It must have shown on his face because the stranger undid the buttons and zippers of several outer layers till they were able to pull at the collar of their undershirt exposing a complex tattoo with an owl as a prominent feature. He blinked at it as the stranger spoke carefully, "You made this for me. Remember? You would tease me about my name cuz it made you think of the owl."

He frowned, looking up at the stranger's face. "Pygmy-owl?"

The stranger sent him a tight smile. "Remember, Ner?"

Slowly things started trickling into his mind. It was so different compared when he had to adapt to cycles. He pressed the heel of his hand into an eye trying to stem off the growing headache. "I...maybe?" He made a noise. "Things aren't making sense."

"Take your time," the stranger gently urged.

"Can it, Pygmyonus," a different stranger spat. "We need him to tell us what happened. Did he manage to defeat X-Born?"

There was nothing but static after that.

It was like the name had flipped a switch in his head and he suddenly remembered everything and it made him sick. But there were the cycles he had lived, the cycles they had lived together, and he found himself scrambling off the table and through the crowd, eyes searching for the body he knew was there somewhere, of the one everyone else hated and he should hate.

He found them still in their capsule. He ran over and quickly released the hatch. There was a hiss before the glass piece hinged upwards opening the capsule and allowing him access to the one he shouldn't care for.

There was a shuddering breath of air that made the chest expand, eyes fluttering open with the motion. He gripped the closest hand and rubbed gently at their knuckles. Slowly, those eyes focused on him and what had happened before those cycles finally cleared itself out. He should be mad that they had made him the villain.

He let out a shuddering breath. He swallowed thickly and spoke the only thing he could say.

"Kyren."
The Writer's Marathon

This event challenges writers' creativity and speed. Every day a new prompt will be available for writers to look at and take up the challenge of writing for. The writer is given 48 hours to complete the prompt. There is a minimum of 100 words per prompt.

This was a continuation of RPApril Extravaganza 2018 Writing Marathon ('https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=95786&page=3&p=3073120&viewfull=1#post3073120') which was started in RPApril Extravaganza 2017 Writing Marathon ('https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=95786&page=2&p=3073100&viewfull=1#post3073100'). Prompts are bold in each entry.

Day 01: Born to be wild
Day 02: Good to be bad
Day 03: Smoke on the water
Day 04: Spill blood on fire
Day 05: Kingdom Come
Day 06: Beautiful World
Day 07: Midnight Hallelujah
Day 08: Running Wild
Day 09: The sky is mine
Day 10: Jeremy
Day 11: West Covina
Day 12: House of Sleep
Day 13: Center of the universe
Day 14: Holy diver
Day 15: Becoming Insane
Day 16: Big in Japan
Day 17: Take on me
Day 18: Wake up dreaming
Day 19: True Survivor
Day 20: Lost in space
Day 21: Save me
Day 22: Send love through
Day 23: Dance, dance, dance
Day 24: My Confession
Day 25: Stay
Day 26: Superheroes
Day 27: Twisted mind
Day 28: My curse
Day 29: Boulevard of broken dreams
Day 30: In the end
"Madam, I truly do not know who you are talking about."

The man frowned at the pair. Neither were apparent customers to his shop, what with the hallway having many shop entrances lining its walls, but from the small snippet of words he had heard, it almost sounded like someone was lost.

The woman crossed her arms even as her face seemed to only lose more color. "That is enough, Neryk. Where is he?"

The androgynous one shook their head, expression set. "Madam, I am not lying. I do not know who this Diggory person is."

"You missing someone, lady?" he asked, approaching even as a part of him recoiled at the action.

Her sharp gaze snapped to him and his immediate reaction was to freeze.

She pulled out her personal device and quickly brought up a picture. "Have you seen him? His name is Diggory."

He frowned at the smiling man in the image. Even the androgynous person next to her frowned at it but there didn't seem to be a single flicker of recognition in their gaze. His frown only deepened. Despite the other not recognizing the photographed man - despite it sounding like they should if the woman was to be believed - he couldn't shake the feeling that he recognized that face.

He shook his head, leaning back. "As much as the face looks strangely familiar, I can't place where or when I had seen it. Sorry, lady."

The woman turned the picture back to herself but the device was one of those that was see-through on the right settings and he could still see that smiling face obscured by the opaque device.

Where had he seen that young man before?

The sneeze echoed through the trees. Several birds in the nearby branches sent leaves and a scattering of feathers raining down on him as he sniffled.

"You alright, Diggory?"

He looked over at the ghost trailing along beside him, smiling. "I'm fine, Richard."

"Bullshit you are," came a snappy comment from behind him and he glanced back to find Ghost Diggory glaring at him. "Will you stop and rest already? You're going to kill all of us if you keep going like this."

Diggory rolled his eyes, amusement pulling at his expression. "I'm not going to keel over dead. Besides," he focused back on the way he was heading, "I want to make it to the top of this before nightfall."

He was fairly certain Ghost Diggory rolled his eyes, too. "That's what you said the last two times."

Diggory shot him a grin over his shoulder but said nothing more.

Hours passed and by the time he reached a place to settle for the night, the sky was already showing the first stars of the evening. Richard was still at his side, still stoic as ever, but Ghost Diggory was getting agitated behind him. He glanced back, inquiring, "We're safe here, you know."

Ghost Diggory laughed. "We're safe? Here?! Are you out of your mind! We're in the middle of who knows where with no supplies, no provisions, and you're telling me we're safe?" The ghost gestured wildly. "We're a construct of magic and the only one with a proper, physical form is roughing it with a high possibility of dying on us."

"Do you have so little faith in your creation?" Richard asked, his voice calm and the question unobtrusive.

The other ghost scoffed. "I have no faith in the consciousness it houses."

Diggory smiled at that. He probably should be offended but the whole ordeal was just touching. "Well, thankfully this consciousness is a bit more prepared than you think."

"Oh? Do you actually happen to know where we are?" Ghost Diggory challenged.

"No." The ghost threw his hands in the air, expression clearly spelling out that proved his point. "But I do know what I'm doing."

"What are you doing?" Richard inquired.

Diggory offered him a soft smile. "Seeking shelter." He gestured past both ghosts towards the rock face not too far off. "I caught sight of what looked to be an outcrop. I'm hoping it's more like a cave but even a simple overhang would work well enough for tonight."

Ghost Diggory huffed at that. "Then summon me when you're through mountaineering. I'm done here."

The ghost vanished, leaving Diggory with only Richard's ghost for company. Diggory sighed, feeling dejected.

Richard's hand was surprisingly solid against his shoulder and he looked over to find an encouraging smile on the ghost's face. "Don't let his attitude get to you. He's just upset that you gave up a seemingly perfect life."

Diggory chuckled softly. "That and probably put them in even more danger because of it." His smile grew. "I've kind of gotten a pretty good handle of how his thoughts work after everything."

Richard arched an eyebrow at him. "Impressive, seeing as it has only been mere hours."

"Has it?" Diggory asked, starting towards the rock face. "I hadn't noticed."

The sun had set completely by the time he had a decent fire going. Richard had been kind enough to help, even if all the ghost had done was make sure the fire didn't go out as he went and got a better store of wood. The overhang was part of a deep alcove, leaving him enough room to stay dry and warm for the night.

A howl went up far too close and his head snapped up as Ghost Diggory appeared suddenly at his side, a solid hand forming on his shoulder. "Easy," the ghost softly commanded.

"There is nothing to be concerned about," Richard assured them both even as a wolf came into range of the firelight. "They were born to be wild and, as such, they know when to leave prey alone."

Diggory watched the wolf as it studied them. For a moment, he thought it would try and approach, but it simply turned around and leapt back into the trees. He let out the breath he had been holding.
The grip on his shoulder tightened before Ghost Diggory removed his hand. He glanced back to find the ghost had turned to face the other one, a frown marring Ghost Diggory's expression. "Why are we even here, Professor?"

Diggory had to turn his head the other way to look at Richard without killing himself. He caught the tail end of the ghost's shrug as Richard offered, "Because it is Diggory's will to have us here."

Ghost Diggory rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh? Is it not?" There was an edge to them, like Richard was refraining from making those words a condescending remark. "Because you have already proven that Diggory's desire has no bearing on whether or not you have a corporal form so I assumed you meant why we were in the middle of some forest far beyond the reach of man."

Ghost Diggory frowned. "Wait. What? How?"

Richard shrugged. "It would be best to ask that of your creation, not of me. I can only speculate, not actually provide answers."

Diggory suddenly found himself under the scrutiny of the two ghosts and, despite how bewildered he was by the exchange, he shook his head and offered honestly, "I have no idea why we're way out here."

Richard arched an eyebrow at him. "What had been your intent when you touched the Crystal Heart if not to banish us all from reach?"

"I wanted to hide it, to keep it safe as I figured out what was going on." He scratched as his chest where his crystal heart sat warm under his touch. "I hadn't had a destination in mind."

"Which brings us right back to my initial question," Ghost Diggory pointed out, exasperated. "What the hell we doing here, Professor?"

Richard tipped his head to the side as he studied the pair of them. Diggory fought the urge to squirm when that gaze settled on him briefly. "Neither of you have noticed, then?"

"Noticed what?" Ghost Diggory barked.

"The magic."

Diggory frowned. "The magic?"

Richard nodded as the ghost's gaze drifted towards the trees. "This place - this entire area - is saturated with magic. I would not be surprised to discover creatures here that should not exist, be it due to extinction or being of nothing more than myths and legends."

"Like unicorns and dragons," Ghost Diggory offered, though he sounded equal parts fed up and bored with the entire thing.

"Exactly!" Richard enthused, gaze returning to the other ghost. "Where is the best place to hide a needle than in another pile of needles. The Crystal Heart cannot be hidden by conventional means. It exudes magic in a way that twists and warps reality when left unattended, purposely drawing in souls both living and dead so that it can continue doing what it's always done; collect."

Diggory shuddered as Ghost Diggory scoffed at that. "You want me to believe that the Crystal Heart brought us here with very little guidance from him?"

Diggory flinched back from the hand suddenly in his face.

"No," Richard corrected. "I'm saying it was Diggory himself that brought us here. The Crystal Heart was nothing more than a catalyst at best."

"I don't understand," Diggory voiced. "How could I have brought us here? I can barely do any other sort of magic even with my memories back. I had to start the fire by hand."

"You truly cannot feel the magic in the area?" Diggory shook his head, watching as Richard's curiosity shaped his expression. "Fascinating. I wonder, then, if something else drew the Crystal Heart here with you in tow."

"Is it possible it could truly be a coincidence?" Diggory asked.

There was a brief pause before Richard answered him. "It could be, yes, but the chances of it happening like this are so slim, they're nearly nonexistent."

Ghost Diggory took a step forward. "You say that but nothing is normal about him. He exists outside of the normal rules and the fact that he even has magic to begin with shouldn't be possible. I didn't create him to be compatible with magic, not when I wasn't."

Richard just shrugged Ghost Diggory's comment off. "That is neither here nor there and proves my point. Diggory is so much of an outlier that coming here was not mere coincidence. Either something else is in play or he was naturally drawn here."

Confusion pulled at Diggory's expression. "Naturally drawn here? But I've never been here."

Richard shook his head. "That doesn't matter. At this point, all that mattered was your intent on keeping the Crystal Heart out of the current Professor's hands and you've effectively done that even if you never meant to send us out this far, if send us anywhere at all." Richard smiled softly at him. "Not that I'm complaining. It has been a long time since I've seen anything other than the inside of some crate or asleep in the Crystal Heart."

"Wait, you couldn't come out if you were in the crate?"

"Oh, I could," Richard assured him. "it was quite easy, actually, but there is a limit as to how far i can wander away from it. Despite what others may say, sometimes it is good to be bad at something. I was rather bad at being patient and seeing if I could push the limits a little bit each day and settled into the Crystal Heart with every intent of just sleeping for the rest of existence. It turned out to be in my favor because I was brought back upon your arrival within the vicinity of the Crystal Heart." Richard gestured towards him. "For you, it turned to be in your favor that you were not overly good with simply picking a way to hide the Crystal Heart because now we are given the opportunity to explore something almost no one else has explored before."

"A patch of wild forest?" Ghost Diggory guessed. The eye roll was audible in the ghost's words.

"Yes."
Ghost Diggory gave a snort of a laugh and Diggory found himself agreeing. It seemed a bit too far fetched but, then, how far fetched was it that there was something else leading his hand? Be it magic or something else, they were there for a reason. As idiotic as it may be, he trusted Richard's words and if the ghost said the area was saturated in magic, he believed him. His gaze drifted out to the woods as the pair started arguing about something, wondering if he could feel it himself.

"Diggory?"

He blinked and brought his head around. Both ghosts were staring at him but he couldn't quite make out the depth of their expressions. He blamed the fire and the night encroaching in on them for that.

"Are you alright?" Richard asked, a soft frown curling the ghost's lips.

"Yeah. Why?"

Ghost Diggory took a step forward but the ghost gaze wasn't on him. "Look back at the trees, Diggory."

There was a note in those words that made Diggory's heart sink and he returned his gaze to the trees.

Pure instinct drove him backwards as he scrambled to get away from the creature standing in the treeline but his back collided with a pair of legs and he looked up to find Ghost Diggory had stopped his fleeing. The ghost wasn't looking at him and didn't react when Richard came to his side. Diggory looked between them - both stony faced of varying curiosity and concern - before returning his gaze to the creature before them.

"What is it?" he asked in a choked whisper.

"I'm not sure," Richard offered cautiously. "I think I may have read about them before but it's not coming to me quickly."

Half buried in the treeline was a creature that looked almost like an elk or a deer, but it was far too large for either animal and the antlers were far from normal. They glowed with some inner light and looked like they were steaming or smoking, soft curls of the visible air particles lazily drifting about. It reminded him more of fog that rolled down the mountainsides rather than steam or smoke as he watched whatever it was coming off the antlers drift back before heading towards the creature's shoulders and curling around the body.

"It's not a frost spirit, is it?" Ghost Diggory asked softly, the frown on his face audible in his words.

Richard shook his head. "I don't know. It's the wrong time of year and there are no signs of frost or ice where it touches the ground."

Ghost Diggory hummed as if to agree but it told Diggory nothing. He brought his gaze back up to the creature's face and was startled when it seemed to look at him. It took a few steps forward, huffing air as if it was smelling something, and its hindquarters became visible.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to gag or scream.

Ghost Diggory's hand over his mouth prevented both.

Past the shoulders, the creature's body was like a study of decay. The entire torso went from decaying skin and muscle to nothing but bones at the pelvis. It was disconcerting to see the bones of the pelvis and upper legs move without muscles and skin covering it. The hind legs were in the same state as the torso going from a healthy hoof to barren bone at the pelvic.

"Diggory," Richard seemed to breath. "Whatever you do, don't touch it."

The ghost spoke this as the creature approached him and Diggory wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish that when the creature was the one pushing its nose out to touch him and Ghost Diggory was an unmoving force at his back. Still, he did press into Ghost Diggory in an attempt to heed Richard's words but the creature's nose still pressed into his chest.

A gasp escaped him. From one instance to the next, he had gone from sitting on the side of some mountain to sitting at the edge of some lake he didn't recognize. A thick forest still surrounded him, all of it illuminated by the moon high overhead that was nearly full.

Ghost Diggory's hand was still over his mouth, the ghost solid against his back. Richard was still standing near his right knee and Diggory was relieved they were still with him. He couldn't imagine handling being sent to some strange place alone.

Out in the depths of the lake it looked like there was smoke on the water - or was it fog - but he couldn't make out the source.

The creature stepped around him, startling all three of them. Entranced by the view, Diggory had nearly forgotten that the creature had even existed in the first place. It paused at his left side to look down at him before continuing on. He watched as the creature walk right up to the edge of the lake and then kept going. But the surface of the lake didn't give under its hoof and Diggory watched in awe as the creature traveled across the surface of the water like it was solid ground.

"Professor," Ghost Diggory spoke up from behind him. The ghost's hand was still over his mouth. He didn't move to remove it. "What is that thing?"

"I'm not sure." Diggory glanced at the other ghost, seeking out the man's expression. It told him very little beyond the man was piecing something together. "All I know is that we shouldn't initiate an interaction with it. It's...I don't know how to describe it more than an ingrained, instinctual reaction."

"Is it that dangerous?" Ghost Diggory asked as his hand fell from Diggory's mouth.

Richard shook his head. "Does it matter? As much as I'm one for testing the limits of the universe, this isn't something I want to see the results from."

Diggory looked back at the creature. It had stopped at the edge of the smoke - fog? - and was staring at him.
"I wonder what it wants."

He knew both ghosts were staring at him now but he couldn't bring himself to look away from the creature's stare. Slowly, carefully, he rose to his feet. Both ghosts hissed at him but he ignored them.

Silence suddenly rang louder than their words and he looked over at where the ghosts had been to find himself alone. A part of him panicked at that; the other part was glad they weren't there to see him make a fool of himself. Facing the lake again, he took a step forward under the creature's watchful gaze.

The surface of the water gave like sand underfoot.

It was quiet and he realized that it had been that way since their arrival. The only sound that seemed to be there - the lapping of the water on the lake shore and the faint breeze through the trees - diminished till he couldn't hear them anymore as his journey across the lake stretched on.

By the time he reached the creature, he couldn't make out the shoreline; it seemed as if the forest had grown from the lake itself.

It was smoke that clung to the surface of the water; the sharp scent of burning wood wafted over him as the creature shifted about, stirring the smoke up into his face. It made his eyes water.

"You.....listen....." His eyes snapped wide and onto the creature's face towards the right. It didn't so much as blink at his reaction. More words echoed in his ears but beyond the creature's steady gaze, there was no apparent source. "You.....follow....."

Abruptly, the creature turned and started to walk through the sudden wall of smoke. Diggory looked towards the top of the smoke and couldn't fathom how he had missed the low rolling smoke becoming a thick wall too tall for him to see the top. He hesitated but the creature glanced back and he could see its glowing eyes through the smoke. The sight made his skin crawl.

He stepped into the wall of smoke, willingly following the creature into the murky depths of the smoke.

It was strange. The air seemed to buzz all around him yet the smoke wasn't even touching him. It was like there was a few inches of clean air hugging his body and keeping the smoke at bay. Even when he lifted a hand as if to touch the smoke, that layer of protection stayed wrapped tight around his limb.

"You.....magic.....strong....." the voice echoed in his ears.

Another step and suddenly he was outside the smoke in a space he couldn't classify. He wasn't sure if it was a proper cave or if the smoke pressed against some invisible dome thick enough to block out the remaining light of the night sky. The only light came from the creature's antlers and eyes, and the small fire before it.

"Spill.....blood.....on.....fire....."

He frowned. "Why?"

The creature's head tipped to the side to the point of looking unnatural. "Why.....question....."

"Because I..." He mulled the words over. "I'm not sure if I want to."

"You.....follow....."

He nodded, starting to cross the space to the fire. "And still I do. I just want to know."

The creature stared at him as he continued his sedated walk to the fire. It wasn't till he was within arms reach of the flames that the voice responded.

"Magic.....sight.....give....."

He frowned. "I don't understand."

"See.....magic....." The creature's head tipped a bit in the other way. "Sense.....magic....."

Something seemed to grip his very being; whether that was the crystal heart or whatever he had that counted as a soul, something had grabbed hold and was squeezing it tight.

"Be.....magic....."

It was like a fog was filling his mind. He stared at the object pressing into his palm, not understanding till a pair of different hands grabbed at his wrists. They burned like fire but it was enough for him to recognize the knife he was pressing into his own palm.

He had yet to draw blood.

"What are you doing?" Ghost Diggory hissed in his ear.

Richard's words were not far behind. "Do not do as it says."

"You.....listen....."

Both ghosts flinched.

"You.....follow....."

It was Ghost Diggory's fist that collided with his chest grabbing at the fabric just beneath his clavicle; Richard still had an iron grip of his left wrist and a death grip on the fabric against Diggory's back. Ghost Diggory still had Diggory's right arm in a tight grip and positioned where he wouldn't be able to cut anything.

"You.....resist....."

Diggory shook his head. "I want to-"

But Richard forwent holding his left wrist to clap a hand over Diggory's mouth. He calmly pulled the ghost's hand from his mouth despite how much both ghosts were fighting him. "I want to be able to do it without influence. I want it to be my choice."

For the first time since setting eyes on the creature, he saw it blink. And just like that the fog in his brain vanished.

"Spill.....blood.....on.....fire....."

"Diggory, you can't be serious," Ghost Diggory hissed in his ear. It was strange feeling the solid touches from both ghosts vanish as they lost their solid forms. They stayed but their hands passed through him. They couldn't stop him now.

Ghost Diggory didn't seem to be overly concerned with this new state of being as he glared daggers into the side of Diggory's head but Richard turned his hands over and back, staring at them in bewilderment. "Strange," the ghost muttered to himself.

Diggory agreed.

He met the creature's gaze head on again, clarifying, "I will not be binding myself to anything, right?"

"See.....magic.....sense.....magic.....be.....magic ....."

Diggory sighed. That would have to be enough.

He brought the sharp edge of the knife to his palm again, letting the weight settle there for a moment before he shifted his hold and pressed his thumb into the sharp edge.

He didn't flinch when the skin broke under the sharp blade and let a few drops fall into the flames below.
Nothing happened.

Or, at least, nothing 'magical' happened. The creature simply reached over the flames where his hand was still extended and licked at his thumb. It startled him, though not as much as the two ghosts at his sides suddenly becoming solid again and grabbing onto him. His head whipped between them but neither looked at him. Both sets of eyes were locked onto the creature itself, watching as it pulled away and turned around.

"You.....follow.....through.....fire....."

Both ghosts hissed something as he dropped his hand; the words were too muddled for him to make out. Neither grip kept him from moving forward and as he took his first step into the flames, he realized that same thing that had protected him from the smoke protected him from the fire. It was very strange but he was grateful as he passed through the flames without burning anything.

"Gah!"

Diggory looked back in surprise, watching as Ghost Diggory staggered back from the fire as the flames seemed to lick at him, following after his form till he was beyond their reach.

"Diggory!" Richard called out, rushing to the other ghost's side. He wrapped his hand around the hand Ghost Diggory had wrapped around his own wrist. The hand connected to that wrist looked raw.

"I'm ok," Ghost Diggory urged through clenched teeth.

"Bull you are," Richard retorted.

"You.....follow......alone......"

Diggory looked back at the creature. It had kept its body facing the direction it had been walking and simply craned its neck around to stare at him and the ghosts. "They're not alive like me. They're just ghosts."

The creature kept staring at him even as the voice spoke up. "You.....follow......alone......"

"Don't worry about us, Diggory," Ghost Diggory called to him. "We'll be fine."

Diggory glanced towards them but the thought of leaving them exposed left him uneasy. "Can they at least return to the crystals?" he asked as he turned his attention back to the creature. "They won't come out and I'll remain alone like you want."

Silence stretched between him and the creature. The only sounds came from the fire behind him and Richard's soft mutterings with Ghost Diggory. If the few words he was catching was anything to go by, they were both trying to figure out what had happened and how. But the longer he went without a response, the more he feared he wasn't going to get one at all.

"They.....can....."

Diggory let out a sigh and quickly turned to look at the pair. "Guys, quickly."

Ghost Diggory vanished first. Richard delayed, urging, "Be careful, Diggory. We don't know what this is or where it is taking you."

He nodded, watching as Richard vanished too. Turning back around, he returned his focus to the creature only to find the creature had continued on and he ran to catch up.

He kept at the creature's hindquarters, though he made sure it was longer than an arm's length. He didn't want to accidentally touch the creature. They progressed slowly through the space and yet it seemed as if they reached their destination instantly. He shuddered against the unwanted similarities.

The seemingly cave like area was now a cave far larger than any he had ever seen or known had existed. Gravel crunched underfoot as the sound echoed all around him oddly. There was something glowing ahead and it wasn't till they reached the edge of what he realized was a massive lake that he saw what it was.

The water was illuminated by glowing crystals under the water revealing every bit of ground at the bottom of the lake. There was no ease into the water; the edge just dropped off and with how glass like the water was, he wasn't even sure he trusted how deep it looked.

"You.....swim....."

His gaze snapped to the creature. "Swim where?" he asked tentatively, not liking that idea.

"To.....kingdom.....come....."

He frowned. "I don't understand."

Something slammed into him sending him out over the water. It was in that brief moment between being airborn and hitting the water that he discovered the creature had basically hip checked him into the lake.

The water was ice cold as it surged up around him and he instinctively curled in on himself. His lungs burned for air having not been prepared for any of it and it was all he could do to keep his motions calm as he kicked back to the surface.

His head hit something solid and the sound reminded him of glass.

Horror seeped into his body as he pressed his palms against the glass. There was no layer of air between the water and glass. In fact, he could see that the surface was still a good few feet above the glass he was pressing against and no matter which way he looked, he couldn't see the ends.

He tried looking for it but his lungs had already been burning and while his will to live was strong, his body won out in the end.

He sucked in a breath and found air filling his lungs instead of water.

He coughed, shaking, as blessed air granted his body the much needed oxygen. He brought his trembling hands up to his face and found that once again, that layer of protection was still around him, keeping breathable air trapped against his body for as long as it lasted.

He didn't expect it to last long.

Swimming while breathing was the most bizarre experience of his life - aside from going through the experience of discovering he wasn't actually human twice, but that was beside the point - and he found that there was still a part of him that held a tight grip on urgency. He needed to find whatever it was the creature wanted to see and he wasn't about to roll over and die if he could help it.

He kept expecting to start passing out when the oxygen trapped against his body was used up but it was taking a while.
As fascinating as the bottom of the lake was - what with pillars of stone stretching from the floor to the ceiling covered in a spattering of glowing crystals, some pillars still stalagmites under the water's surface - it seemed rather ordinary. Nothing seemed to speak of anything spectacular or different even as he started going farther and farther from where the creature was certainly still standing sentry. The last few times he had looked towards it, the eyes and antlers were stark against the oppressive darkness of the space beyond it and he had given up keeping tabs on it. Honestly, it would reappear if it wanted to. And if not, he would be completely content with never seeing it again.

He stopped his forward momentum, frowning. The lake bed was maybe five feet under him but something about it was strange. He turned in the water, looking back the way he came and dragged his gaze across the floor. It took looking towards where he was going that he realized that the floor was going from rocky lake bottom to an actual stone floor. Even the pillars started looking like the slow progression of a stone carving and the glowing crystals settling at a specific height on the pillars.

He kicked forward, confusion and curiosity driving him on.

The change was so gradual, he didn't even notice till the area went from simple pillars and stone floor to ruins suddenly appearing in the depths of the water. Here, there was no light beyond the glowing crystals at the base and roughly twenty feet above his head on every pillar. Beyond that, the encroaching darkness created a sense of nothingness beyond the world he found himself in.

He pressed one foot to the stone floor before settling his other down. It was strange being weightless and trying to walk through water at the same time but he fell into a rhythm and felt less strange walking around the apparent city than swimming through it.

Besides, the buildings looked to be designs for open air rather than under water. The apparent entrances were ground level. He even walked up to one of the more complete structures to peak through the doorway and found signs of stairs against the far wall, though it was only the bottom three steps. If this city was meant to be traveled by swimming, why would they have stairs in their buildings?

The deeper into the city he went, the more solid and complete the structures became. Just like his arrival here, the progress was gradual that he didn't even notice till he found himself at the city's heart.

The buildings fell away as the street he was on ended. Before him was a massive open space with trees, grassy areas, and flowers galore. Beyond all of it were two massive structures looking brand new centered in the massive open space. He realized the space was circular and where the city met the road that encompassed the green space oddly, there were little plots of either more greenery or tiny shops or elevated paved areas for gatherings or seller's carts. It was incredible but it left an uneasy feeling thrumming through him to see it still so empty.

"We shouldn't be out of the crystals, Diggory."

He jumped, bubbled swirling around him as he slashed at the water to turn around. Ghost Diggory was giving him a disapproving look but there was an echoed unease in the ghost's expression that negated the look's severity. Richard was beside him, looking equally apprehensive as he felt yet still fascinated by what he saw.

"I hadn't called you guys intentionally," Diggory defended as he got his feet back onto the road. "Go back into the crystals. I'll be fine."

Ghost Diggory shook his head as Richard pointed out, "We can't. Whatever has you spooked is making it impossible for us to return. You're unconsciously keeping us from disappearing and until you settle down, I don't think that'll change any time soon."

Diggory winced at that but Ghost Diggory walked over to him unaffected by the water he was passing through. His hand was still solid against Diggory's shoulder, though. "We'll stick around as long as you need but it's your fault if we get into trouble."

He nodded, accepting that. His gaze flickered between the two ghosts as he asked, "Does this place look familiar to either of you?"

Ghost Diggory's gaze went to the city as Richard shook his head. "Not to me," the older ghost confessed. "But that's not necessarily a strange thing. I've been to many major cities but that would only be a small percentage of those that had existed in the world. It is possible that this existed before or even after I had done my traveling, vanishing before I could have had a chance."

Ghost Diggory frowned. "I don't think it's something like that, Professor. There's several different architecture styles here that wouldn't be in the same city. At least, not for anything that had existed in the time that it could have disappeared."

"What do you mean?" Diggory asked, coming to the ghost's side. "It seems like a pretty modern city to me."

"It is," Ghost Diggory confirmed, looking over at him. "But the likelihood of a city this size vanishing without the world knowing would be unusual." The ghost looked back out over the city. "Besides, the blending of styles isn't in just the new stuff. There are things here from architectural eras that would have never ended up side by side in their times. Whatever this is, it isn't an original city."

"Piecemealed, then?" Richard clarified.

Ghost Diggory hummed an affirmation. "Someone crafted this city. The next question is why."

"Why not?"

Diggory's head snapped up. There floating somewhere between thirty and forty in the water above his head was a...well, he wasn't sure how to describe it because 'creature' wasn't exactly right and neither was 'thing'.

"Welcome to my beautiful world."
The entity was suddenly in his face, eyes gleaming in a way he recognized as dangerous. "And you were supposed to come alone."

"I-I did," he sputtered. "These two are ghosts and they had been in their crystals up until just a moment ago. The only thing they've seen is the city's center."

"One thing too many," the entity seemed to sing in displeasure, swimming around him slowly. It perked up at his left shoulder, looking at him as its....hands - for a lack of a better term - grabbed onto his shoulder stilling its momentum. "Crystals you say?"

He nodded even as both ghosts behind him hissed his name. "Two."

"Can I see?"

Ghost Diggory was on his other arm in an instant, solid hand painful on his upper arm. "Diggory, don't. We don't know who or what that thing is. Showing them off could spell disaster."

Diggory went to say something but the entity beat him to it and not in the way he would have handled it. It shoved off his shoulder towards Ghost Diggory and came to a stop inches from the ghost's face. "You have no say in this. Be gone, bug."

The entity flicked Ghost Diggory on the forehead and the ghost vanished in a storm of bubbles.

"Diggory!" Richard cried out. The older ghost stopped short of where Ghost Diggory had been, hand clasping at empty water as he stopped himself from approaching further. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing, nothing," the entity happily chimed. "I just sent him back to his crystal." Its gaze settled on Richard. "You should go back as well if you know what's best for you."

Richard shook his head. "I can't of my own free will." Richard gestured towards him. "He's the one keeping me from returning and it's not even intentionally."

"Hmm, pity," the entity offered. Whatever pity it was portraying was fake as it grinned. "You're going back anyways."

"No! Wait!" Richard tried but he vanished in a storm of bubbles just as Ghost Diggory had from a flick on the forehead.

"There!" the entity chirped, clearly pleased with itself. It spun around, focusing on him completely. Clasping its hands together, it continued, "Now that we're alone, let's get started."

"Started with what?" he asked, watching the entity swim past him and towards the two structures at the center of the open space.

The entity giggled. "With becoming magic, of course." It swam up to his face bobbing a foot away. "Silly. Did you forget your reason for coming here already? It's a good thing I sent those two away, then."

He shook his head. "I was just doing what that strange, half dead creature told me to do."

The entity blinked at him before its head tipped to the side. "Did you not come to become magic?"

"I'm not completely sure why that creature even came to me in the first place."

The entity pouted. "Well obviously you summoned it. What had you been thinking when it first appeared?"

He frowned as the question rolled through his mind. Somehow it seemed like days had passed since the creature's first appearance but it was probably closer to an hour, three at most if he was lucky. Still, it took a while for his brain to piece together the bits of memory enough to answer. "I...I was thinking about magic." He could see the moment: Richard and Ghost Diggory talking about something, his gaze drifting away, them calling his attention back. "I was thinking..." He focused on the point just before he returned his attention back to the ghosts, tried to remember what he had been thinking, what had spurred on his thought process. He opened his eyes. "I was wondering what it would be like to sense magic like Richard had." He met the entity's gaze. "I wanted to be able to see it but it was more a flight of fancy rather than a true desire."

The entity smirked. "Oh?" It swam closer and jabbed a finger into his chest. "Your heart said otherwise." His hand splayed over the point of contact as he took a sluggish step backwards. That smirk turned into a grin. "You want to be magic, just like all the others that make it here."

He shook his head vehemently. "No, I don't. I want to be able to work with it better, sure - to understand it more - but that doesn't mean I want to become magic. I just want to understand and work with it. Nothing more."

The entity's grin only seemed to grow. "You're lying."

"Enough," a sharp voice cut through. It was a stark contrast to the entity's voice and sent a shiver down his spine. "It is midnight, Hallelujah. You are not supposed to be out and about anymore."

Well there went his assumption to how long it had been since the creature had first arrived.

The entity before him rolled about in the water swimming a few paces away as it moaned. "Aw, why can't I have fun with this one? You wouldn't even let me see the last one."

"Hallelujah," the voice warned and the entity flinched.

"Ok, ok," it urged, swimming away as quickly as it was able to manage.

He lost sight of it in a matter of seconds. The entity was far faster than anything he had ever seen in the water and was glad he wasn't alone with it anymore.

Another entity - this one nearly ten times the size of the original entity - slowly came into view from behind him. It swam over his head to settle a good twenty feet in front of him. "Please excuse Hallelujah's behavior. They should not have been able to greet you in the first place and that falls upon me."

He dismissed the apology with an ambiguous hand flail and pleading expression. "As long as my companions are not trapped in any crystal - their own or a foreign one - there is nothing to forgive."
The entity gave him a soft smile, though it was more of an impression of an expression than actually seeing one. The entity before him didn't really have a face, similar to how it didn't really have a body. "They are not, I assure you."

The entity moved with a gesture reminiscent of one waving their arm except it wasn't made with anything he would outright classify as an arm.

And just like that, Richard and Ghost Diggory were at his side again.

He looked to Ghost Diggory first to find the ghost frowning at the entity before them. A gasp from Richard drew in attention and he turned in time to see the ghost sink to his knees.

"Magic," the man breathed, eyes wide in supposed wonder.

Ghost Diggory reacted to that word, though Diggory had missed what exactly that reaction had been as the other ghost muttered, "No. It's not possible."

"I don't understand." Despite every eye turning to him, he only felt confusion. "I thought magic was just an energy of the world, a part of everything."

The entity chuckled and it sent a thrill of fear down Diggory's back. The entity drifted closer but still remained some distance away. "I am glad Egos sent you to me. It has been too many years since he found someone so willing to be wrong."

"Egos?" Diggory parroted as the two ghosts pressed closer on either side.

The entity's gaze flickered up over his head, a smile spreading across a faceless expression confirming, "Egos,"

"It has been too long, Arcane."

Diggory's gaze snapped over his shoulder and found he had to look up to see all of what had appeared behind him. There, floating in the water no higher than a foot off the floor, was another entity. This one was equally large but instead of being ethereal and looking more like smoke than actual substance, this new entity was very clearly made of some substance - be it glass, ice. or a crystal of some sort - that looked far too fragile to even move without cracking.

"I don't understand," Diggory repeated.

"Diggoy," Richard softly urged, gripping at his upper arm a bit too tight. "That's the embodiment of the Crystal Heart, the sentience granted from exposures to so many souls," Richard's words stalled as he glanced at the other entity, "and magic."

"That is mostly accurate, yes," Magic confirmed, "but Egos and I existed long before there was sentient life on this planet."

Egos hummed in thought. "Though I wouldn't say I am an embodiment of the Crystal Heart so much as the Crystal Heart is a physical manifestation of me."

"Oh please," Richard chided. Egos actually flinched at that as the ghost berated him. "You had no problem with letting everyone know that you were not pleased with where you were at. If it were a physical manifestation of yours, you would not have it be be a crystal shaped into a heart."

"He's not wrong," Arcane agreed.

The amusement from those that understood what was going on was contagious and Diggory found himself grinning as Egos seemed torn between going after Richard's comment or countering Arcane's.

There was never a chance for the entity to decide.

"Danger.....running.....wild....."

Everyone turned their attention on the strange creature that had led Diggory to the this strange place. Arcane appeared at the creature's side, rubbing at its snout. Egos seemed to frown at the creature's arrival. "Is that...is that Ayadezur?"

"It is," Arcane offered mournfully. "Things have taken a turn for the worse, Egos. I'm glad you are here now."

Egos shook his head. "This is not possible. Ayadezur was untouchable, especially to mortal and magic-aided hands. Why-how did he end up like that?"

Arcane's gaze landed on Diggory. "There were a few that can."

A flicker of a thought and the answer was beyond his lips before he could figure out why.

"The Professor."

"What?" Richard barked as Ghost Diggory shook his head, rushing, "That's not-if the manifestations of lore and existence say that there is no one that can touch that creature, not even the Professor could."

Diggory swallowed thickly before looking over at Ghost Diggory. "But I can." Where the silence would normally ring in his ears, the water rushed around his layer of protection instead. He kept going. "If I wanted to, I could touch...whatever they had called that creature. I could touch its hide and injure it more if I wanted to." He met Arcane's steady gaze. "The Professor is the same way, aren't they."

What counted as Arcane's head dipped in acknowledgement.

"But are they like me? Is the Professor artificial like me?"

Arcane focused on petting the long fur around the creature's neck. "If they are, I cannot tell. They work with magic in such a way, it makes me too drunk with it all to even care enough to check. Any time I managed to get close enough with the resolve of making them stop, they would do something so glorious, I would forget why I had even appeared till after I had already returned."

"Have they seen you like this?" Ghost Diggory asked. "Do they know of your existence like we do now?"

Arcane curled closer to the creature, offering meekly, "No. I have never shown myself to them as I have you."

"But what does it matter what they are?" Richard challenged. "Mortal, magic-aided, or artificial, they are clearly a threat to all now and must be stopped."

"And how would you suggest we go up against someone we know nothing about beyond an alias and the fact that their touch with magic is far greater than anything we have dealt with before?" Ghost Diggory countered.

Diggory gave a breathy laugh. "You don't." He was starting to get used to everyone looking at him expecting something - great or otherwise - from him. Parts of him still yearned for those days in the world the Other had crafted. "Or, more accurately, you can't."
"An enemy you know nothing about will outmaneuver you and overpower you even if they were far weaker than you were." He took a step forward, his hands going out to either side. "If we are going to go up against the Professor, then we need to come up with a plan starting with gaining more information about them."

"And how would you suggest starting?" Richard inquired.

Diggory glanced at him before looking to Arcane. "Could you take me to him?"

Arcane blinked at him. "Right now?"

Diggory laughed. "No, no. I still want to learn about magic and be able to work with it differently before confronting whoever this Professor is. It will take time for me to get a grip on all of it anyways and the more time I have, the better." He looked to Ghost Diggory and Richard. "But I am also very aware of how little time we have. If I truly want to make any impact on how things go from here, I will have to learn a lot very quickly otherwise the Professor will make their move before I get the chance to do anything."

The silence that followed was a contemplative one.

After a moment, Richard clarified, "You have intentions of confronting the Professor face to face."

Diggory nodded.

"And what if you can't get others to help you?" He turned, focusing on Ghost Diggory. The other's gaze was determined even as he continued, "What if when we get back, you have no one to rely on?"

"Certainly Neryk and Jamie will be-"

"And if they aren't?" The pause was heavy but Ghost Diggory did not let it last long. "No matter the reason why, what are you going to do if they cannot help you?"

It wasn't an easy question and there wasn't any real answer he could give that didn't sound like a cop out. Still, he found himself answering, "Then I figure out how to do it on my own before trying to get help."

"You have some idea of what you want to do, though," Egos pointed out.

Diggory nodded. "The only way we're going to get any proper intel on the Professor is by personally being there and collecting it."

"You want to get within arm’s reach of this supposed Professor?" Ghost Diggory challenged.

"Yes." The following silence was heavy and he let it stretched for far longer than he needed it to. The dramatics were amusing at least as he added, "I want to get in and work beside them as you did with this Professor."

Richard shook his head when Diggory gestured at him. "The two situations are different, Diggory."

"But the outcome is the same." A pained look crossed Richard's face and he pressed on, "Look, if I can get in and get close, if nothing else, I might just get a conversation with the Professor and maybe solve things that way. We know nothing about this new Professor and if we go in blind, I can almost guarantee that it'll all be for naught. Getting in close - regardless of how that looks - is the only way I see about getting what we need."

Ghost Diggory looked away with a sharp noise of disapproval. Richard, though, looked to be giving Diggory's words actual thought. The older ghost met his curious gaze. "You certain this will work?"

Diggory offered him a soft smile. "Whether it does or doesn't, I believe it's our best bet at taking the Professor down." He looked to Arcane. "But before I can get close, I need to understand what is inside and around me before learning how to work with and amplify all of it. If I can't get magic use reintegrated into my subconscious, I don't think things would pass as well as they could."

"So all you want to learn is control?"

Arcane’s faceless expression betrayed their confusion. He shrugged. "In the beginning, sure. But all of this is so much more than simply becoming proficient in magic. I want to be able to sense it as Richard had, to be able to see it on some level connecting everything together. That way, when I do use magic, I don’t overuse or get lost in magic. As much as the sky is mine to explore and conquer, I don't want to get beyond my limits and come crashing back to Earth to never get back up again. I just want to be me with a better view of things. That's it. If more comes from this than that, then it would be more of a success than I had ever intended."

He got the impression Arcane was smiling at him again. "I can help with that."

"We both can," Egos added.

Diggory smiled up at him. "You're not obliged to help me. I don't want to impose on you."

Egos chuckled. "Please. This will be the most fun I've had in centuries."

"Exaggeration," Arcane cut in, amused.

Egos ignored the other entity. "Besides, if Arcane is willing to teach you, then it would be best if I got in on this and teach you what Arcane can't. That way you truly learn everything you can from us."

Diggory grinned at both of them. “Then where do we start?”

It was all she could do not to shoot the idiots around her. In fact, she was starting to contemplate taking herself out instead just to simplify matters. The chaos that would ensue afterwards would be oh so pleasing. The only reason she didn’t follow through was the thought of missing the fallout.

Shame. It would seem she was left with entertaining herself with simply running through the number of people present to see who would be far more enjoyable to take out over others.

“Shouldn’t we be considering the opposite?” a young male spoke up, leaning forward trying to cut through the idiocy. Brendan Hash was a good man and at the bottom of her morbid list.
“We can’t just dive in assuming the worse. There is always the chance it could be for what they perceive as the greater good.”

“Oh please,” one of the old farts spoke up. She glared at said old fart but he either didn’t notice or was too stupid to be affected by it. Unfortunately his stupidity didn’t put him at the top of his list, but she was tempted. The fallout from his death just wouldn’t be quite the same, though. “There is nothing that can be good with the actions they are taking.”

At the other end of the table, though, was a man that had himself at the top of her list since the day she had met him. Only reason she hadn’t shot him yet was because there were at least three armed personnel that were far too loyal to him for her to live long enough to enjoy the pandemonium that would follow.

Valcor Credence was a man of great power and greater ego. He was highly intelligent and if it wasn’t for clear evidence he wasn’t the Professor, she would have taken him out years ago. Unfortunately for her, Valcor was also very popular to those that follow like sheep and, while she hated him on several things beyond principal, he wasn’t an overly bad guy.

Didn’t make him good either.

“It doesn’t matter,” Valcor spoke, the words rolling off his tongue so smoothly, everyone immediately quieted down. She hated him for that too. “Until this ‘Professor’ character shows himself, we are left with nothing more than speculation.” The man looked right at her, a condescending smile on his lips. “So, my question is: why are we wasting our time and resources on a person we don’t even know properly exists?”

That had another riot of arguments go up, though it was more shouting than it was proper conversations held at much too loud of volumes. Valcor seemed unaffected but he had yet to release her gaze. She held his with as flat of an expression as she could manage.

Her eye twitched when he broke eye contact because he happened to chuckle. He stood from his chair but not even his sheep noticed. He gestured to the side in a way she recognized as him wanting to speak. She obliged him and went equally unnoticed as she stood up and followed him down the service hallway.

It was so far into the night that it was now the early hours of the next day leaving the hallway barren. The silence was almost as deafening as the chaos in the conference room they had just vacated, the sound of their shoes softly connecting with the hard floor the only sound filling the space.

“How’s Jeremy?” she inquired, letting the world around them swallow her words. As much as she didn’t want anything to do with this man, she was obliged to at least keep face.

“Missing his mother but doing well,” Valcor offered in turn. “He gets to get his license next week so he’s excited about that.”

“And giving you white hair in the process?” she chuckled.

He laughed at that and, for a moment, she could almost see the man not being quite such an asshole. Almost. “Please. He is a good learner and does well behind the wheel. I am far less concerned about him as I am for him.”

She frowned at that. “Reckless drivers, then?”

Valcor nodded and despite the soft smile on his face, sorrow clouded his eyes. “It is still hard to think she succumbed to such events. I can’t help but fear the same is in store for my son.”

“The odds aren’t that high,” she spoke. She didn’t believe the words and wasn’t surprised when Valcor didn’t either.

“They weren’t for her either, and yet here we are.”

They lapsed into silence again.

This way and that they twisted their way through the complex. From one hallway to the next they went till they were as far from the conference room as they could get. Valcor opened the door to some unused room and gestured for her to enter first.

She obliged him.

It was small, which surprised her, but the view beyond the windows was a smattering of lights of the surrounding city, filling the darkness of night with artificial stars of varying colors. She pressed her hand against the glass just to know where the barrier was as she looked towards the dark sky above. She knew there were no clouds obscuring the real stars but the light of the city blotted them out.

She was mildly surprised when Valcor joined her at the window and it only increased when he started to speak.

“Why are you so adamant about this Professor fellow?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have told you many times why, Valcor. You shouldn’t need to ask that question.”

Valcor turned, pressing the back of his shoulder to the glass as he crossed his arms. “But he’s a magic user, Jamie. Those are becoming fewer and fewer as time passes.

She shook her head, adamant as she reiterated for what felt like the millionth time, “And I stand by the fact that this one cannot be permitted to continue on, not with what they are looking for.”

Valcor’s expression darkened. “You still believing the Crystal Heart nonsense that subordinate from ICARUS was spewing? Dick or whatever his name was?”

She rolled her eyes but knew he was just baiting her. She was very aware he knew exactly who he was talking about. “You trust his word just as much as I do, Val,” she offered softly, suddenly too tired to deal with any of his crap. “He was just as important to you as he was to me and for whatever reason, the only other one that even remembers him.”

Silence filled the room and it was all she could do to not look at him.

“Where did we go wrong?”
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. “If you want my honest opinion: West Covina.”

Valcor sighed and she found herself back too many years into the past to be comfortable. She pressed her forehead against the glass in hopes it would freeze her thoughts before they delved too far into the past.

Long, sleepless, breathtaking nights filled her mind anyways.

“In my honest opinion?” Valcor offered quietly. “Newmont.”

She pulled away from the window, unable to not frown at him. He wasn’t looking at her. “Newmont?” she parroted.

“Our not so smooth breakup.”

The memories slammed into her hard enough to cause her to hiss. “Oh,” She ground out. “That.” She shook her head and stepped back from the window. “Why did you even cheat on me, Val? Was it something I did? Something that I couldn’t appease?”

Valcor pushed away from the window as well and his hands came up to hover between them like the man was either fighting to not touch her or wasn’t even aware he wanted to. “It was my own hubris, my own flaws I never wanted to see. I know that a large amount of the anger you hold from me stems from that night-“

“More like everything you did that night on,” she commented snidely.

He pressed on with a shake of his head. “And to be perfectly honest, I have thoroughly enjoyed every banter we’ve had since simply to see you so passionate again.”

Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “When have I ever been not passionate about anything? I created this organization and have led it into what it is now.”

“But I remember the distant look you had, how separate you kept yourself. It wasn’t till Diggory arrived that you changed and suddenly the fire you were portraying to everyone was now burning in your eyes. There was so much more to every action now that people started to notice and started listening more.” Valcor’s shoulders sank a little. “It’s why I made an effort to get to know him.”

“Oh please,” she spat. “You did it just to get at me.”

He dipped his head. “On some level, yes. But truly? I wanted to know who had brought your spark back.” He chuckled. “I half expected it to be a lover, honestly.”

She smacked his arm.

He just laughed.

“Did you know that I hadn’t really given him the light of day before the incident because I thought that was what he was looking for?” she admitted, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them.

“Isn’t he a good number of years younger than you?” he asked, frowning.

She laughed and the sound was almost bittersweet. “That’s what I had thought, too. Fortunately he made it very clear when we had met in private and the disaster that befell us before we could even finish speaking that he was just looking for my trust and guidance. He wanted to show me that despite not having a history, he was worth something to take a risk on.”

Valcor nodded. “Glad you did. He’s certainly been of use.”

She gave a snort of a laugh, a smirk curling her lips. “And then some.” She looked back out the window. “But you were not wrong when you said he changed me. I certainly remember feeling far more alive than I had in years keeping an eye on him, trusting him with things I couldn’t trust others with and watching him prove himself time and time again. I was amazed by him and driven to make sure there was a world where he could fit in when the organization was no longer needed.”

Her gaze flickered to his reflection as he turned his gaze out the window as well. “You believe that whoever this Professor is, is a threat to that world. Truly believe that.”

“With every fiber of my being,” she informed him. “As much as I would love to follow the evidence stating the Professor is nothing more than a minor threat – even if I believe the evidence isn’t wrong – the threat of the Crystal Heart is very real.”

The window reflected Valcor’s frown well, even enhanced it in some ways. “Isn’t it just lore? Fantasy?”

She shook her head. “If it was, I wouldn’t think much of the warning as most of you have.” She looked at him sideways. “But just as you have, I too have read almost every piece on the Crystal Heart out of equal parts of curiosity and necessity. And despite how often they treat it all as some fairy tale to scare children or some sort of warning against absolute power but we’ve both read texts that have stated it with such surety that the possibility of it actually being real is far greater than either of us would like.”

Silence settled over them and she made no move to break it. The ball was in his court now and she felt no need to pressure him when there was no one to disturb them.

“Why West Covina?” Valcor softly inquired.

A tight smile pulled at her lips at that one. She wasn’t surprised by the change of topic but she was amused that he hadn’t figured it out.

“Guess,” she said in lieu of a true answer.

“Diggory.”

She nodded and her expression hardened. “It had never been my intent to send him into a situation that he would become MIA. Otherwise I would have sent someone else, a different team. That situation was never meant to become the disaster it had turned into.”

“Why not Brethdin?”

She gave a breathy laugh as she stepped to face him again. “Because despite how much of a dick you are now and how high you are on my shit list now because of it, I have never been able to bring myself to regret those years together. Oh, I regretted ever becoming so intimate but I still cherish every moment.”
“Again.”

He shifted his weight in the mud trying to get realigned. Not that it mattered; with his arm outstretched towards the target, he let magic have at it in a way that was become very familiar very quickly.

When the smoke cleared, a piece at the upper left of the target was missing.

Egos gave a pleased hum but the entity’s voice was still sharp as they barked, “Again."

The target repaired itself.

Diggory didn’t give it a chance to finish the process – didn’t even give himself enough time to keep his footing – before he was firing at it again. The mud came up and cradled him before the smoke cleared.

There wasn’t a target left.

“Better,” Egos spoke. The entity made no move to help him up. Diggory didn’t ask for it. “Again.”

Either the old target repaired itself or Egos had gotten a new target. Either way, it returned to the same place.

He didn’t even worry about outstretching his arm this time. Over and over he had worked to take out the target and all the magic work left him exhausted, the new layer of mud making what was on him feel like cement, and it wasn’t like it was a necessity anyways. Egos had told him it was a way to focus on the target better bur wasn’t a necessary way of focusing magic. So he did without this time. He turned an exhausted gaze onto the target and sent magic its way without any other motion.

He collapsed to his knees in the mud before the attack even connected.

The smoke cleared, leaving the area barren.

“Excellent,” Egos appraised. The entity looked down on him. “It seems you can learn this faster than what would be considered normal.”

He hoped he would be able to do it again as his arms shook under his weight.

Diggory gave a half hearted chuckle. “Oh. That’s good. For a second there I thought I wasn’t going to get anywhere.”

“Compared to what’s in front of you, that wasn’t much,” Egos informed him.

He sent the entity a soft smile. “I figured as much. What next?”

“Sleep.”

He looked behind him to find Arcane had joined them at some point. It took a bit of struggling but he managed to pull himself out of the mud. “I can still keep going.”

He attempted to take a step to the side but one foot sank in the mud and the other got caught in it. He pitched in the wrong direction but instead of the mud coming up to greet him softly, it was Arcane.

"And yet your body needs rest, Diggory," Arcane chided softly. "You are asking it to do things beyond its original level and pushing it too far too quickly will shatter it."

He pressed into the entity's warm presence finding it hard to argue. "Just a few more times," he found himself asking as compromise. "I just managed to hit the target without having to keep my hand out as a focus."

Arcane chuckled and the sound reminded him of haunting bells tolling. "It is time for rest, Diggory. Though, if it appeases you, it will be just as informative as your session with Egos."

The mentioned entity shifted and Diggory tried to look back at Egos only to find himself far too weak to do much more than turn his head. "Arcane, you can't be serious expecting him to handle the House of Sleep this soon."

"House of Sleep?" he parroted.

His question went unanswered as Arcane responded, "If he cannot handle it now, he will not be able to handle any other lessons I may have for him, nor yours."

Egos scoffed. "The number of mortals that have gotten lost in there-"

"Mean nothing when it comes to the individual," Arcane cut in, the words final before softer words followed. "I do not believe Diggory is in any more harm doing this now than he is doing any of your lessons."

Another scoff, only softer. "Fair enough. If he does not return, though-"

"He was not meant to be here, regardless of all the training we could have given him," Arcane cut in once more, but her words were heavy with grief and he feared what they were talking about.

"Am I in any real danger?" he voiced meekly.

Arcane adjusted how he was held till his own two feet were underneath him properly and supporting his weight even in the relenting mud. "If you are strong enough, no, but there is little we can do to prepare you for this. As much as we speak of seeming absolutes, each person that rests in the House of Sleep experiences something different."

He frowned at that. "So I could just get a restful sleep?"

Arcane beamed at him. "Yes. It is possible nothing more than proper sleep happens."

That helped and he returned the expression. "So where is this House of Sleep, then?"

"Closer than you think," Egos supplied as he lost Arcane's touch.

"Oh? How so?"

An icy wind slammed into him and he stumbled against the torrent of snow that came with it. He clenched his eyes shut and threw up his arms in a desperate attempt to keep most of the sudden storm off of his face. It didn't work but at least he had enough shelter to peak an eye open. Wherever he was now was completely different from the city at the bottom of the lake. Even the training field Egos had created by pushing back the water and creating a dome of air had still been in the heart of the city. This place was completely black beyond what of the snow he could see but without a proper light, he couldn't see much around himself to begin with.

His foot slipped off of some edge. His heart leapt in his throat as he screamed reaching for anything to save him.

He couldn't feel any magic.
He found himself slowly waking as suddenly as the storm had pressed in on him. He could hear a fire crackling, smell the burning wood, even feel the warmth of the room on his face but sight didn't return. He even went as far as placing a hand over an eye to make sure his eyes were even open. The motion hurt, every part of him screaming in displeasure at his decision but at least he knew he was just simply blindfolded. Not that it was easy to tell. It seemed there was something dulling the senses in his hand but he couldn't quite place what that meant.

"Ah! Don't do that!"

An unfamiliar voice cut through the ambiance of the room as hands he didn't recognize carefully wrapped around his arm. This new person carefully returned his arm to his side, burying it under the blanket with the rest of his body. "If you move too much, you'll undo all of my hard work."

He tried to frown but things on his face pulled in odd ways leaving him to wonder if he had managed the expression or not. He tried to speak but the best he got was opening and closing his mouth before a single, "Work?" was croaked out.

"Yes, work," the stranger replied. He wondered if they had rolled their eyes. In his head they had, it had sounded right. "I patched you up and stitched you back together after I found you out in the middle of that snow storm." Something soft smacked into the side of his head. It sent a pulse of a headache through his temples. The headache remained even after the initial spike. "What were you thinking wandering out in the middle of a blizzard with nothing to guide you? Were you looking for death or something?"

"N-no," he croaked this time. "Just...ended up there."

"Bullshit," the stranger shot back. There was the sound of a liquid being poured into a cup of some sort though it was partially muffled by the soft thing still pressed against the side of his face. "No one just suddenly appears in the heart of a blizzard without even the smallest bit of protection." Something oddly shaped yet round enough to consider as cylinder like slipped under his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position. The hiss against the sudden flare of pain was involuntary. "I know," the stranger softly urged in his ear. Something pressed against his lips. "Here, have some water. Drink it slowly or I'll feed the water to you with a spoon."

He huffed out a chuckle. Every little pain he had spiked from it. "What kind of spoon?" he managed around the edge of the cup.

The stranger huffed at him in return, tipping the cup higher so that cool water rushed into his mouth. He swallowed the mouthfuls greedily. "A teaspoon if I can find one." The cup was pulled away from his lips. He tried to not whine after it. "This place is an absolute dump."

"Are we not where you live?" he asked as he was laid back down.

The stranger laughed. "Highest, no. I live nowhere near here and even if I did live here, this place would not be this bad." There was movement somewhere behind him. "No. I'm just bumming off this place till you're good enough to take care of yourself. Then I'm back on the road to my proper destination."

"Which is?"

Again, a laugh, but there was a note of tension to it that had him expecting a lie.

"Why would I tell you?"

He relaxed. Omission he could do but for some reason being told a lie seemed like the worst thing for the time being. A soft smile pulled at his face as the frown had; it didn't sit right but it was good enough as he replied, "You don't have to. Was just curious."

The crackling of the fire filled the room. Whatever the stranger was doing, it created no noise.

"You're strange, you know that?" the stranger pointed out, suddenly making noise again.

He jumped when they started talking but smiled even more. "Yeah, kind of aware of that. Sorry."

The soft thing still against his face moved away only to smack into the other side of his face. "What are you apologizing for?" the stranger almost demanded sounding flabbergasted and frustrated at the same time.

He chuckled. The pain still spiked but he thought it seemed less than last time. "I'm sorry."

The soft thing smacked him in the face again. He laughed at they half shouted, "Quit apologizing!"

"Sorry," he urged between gasps, everything hurting as he laughed with a massive grin on his face.

"Quit it!" they squealed and he only laughed harder.

He wasn't sure when he fell asleep but he was fairly certain it hadn't been long after his laughter had sputtered out. He woke to aches and pains unlike his first awakening in that unknown space but, from the sounds of it, he was still there. Unfortunately, he felt a lot worse than he had when he had first woken. He flinched when something cold pressed against his forehead. He wanted to bat it away but his arms felt like lead.

"Hey," the stranger offered softly in greeting. "Welcome back."

"I feel awful," he ground out, making a face as best he could.

"I'm sure." The stranger moved away, speaking as they started digging through something. "You have a fever. Several of your injuries have - hopefully - mild infections."

"Hopefully?" he parroted.

The stranger hummed an affirmation. "I'm not a doctor so I couldn't tell you but there's no puss or anything like that from the injuries. They're all just red." They prodded his side, albeit gently. "Don't expect everything to be magically fixed for you. You're not the center of the universe."

That pulled an endearing smile to his face. "An unfortunate fact that keeps smacking me in the face."
The soft thing bopped him in the side of the face again but its touch was faint. "As it should," the stranger agreed, though the words seemed tight.

He wanted to reach out, to catch their hand and give it a comforting squeeze, but just the intention itself seemed to drain whatever strength had him staying awake. Sleep washed over him like waves on the shore, tugging at him as it receded urging him to follow. He stood fast as best he could against its lull. "So what happened?" he inquired.

"What do you mean?"

"After all of my apologies and the laughter," he elaborated, wondering if they were faking the confusion. "You sound...hesitant. Like you see me as more fragile now, or something."

The silence in the room seemed to thicken around him as if the fire died down in anticipation for the stranger's response. Oh how he wished he could see their face right now - even if it didn't divulge anything, at least he could be able to get a glimpse of what they were thinking more than what he could glean from their words alone.

"Nothing happened," the stranger spoke. The words were heavy in the silence that wouldn't recede and they coiled in him like a toxin.

Why was there a weight on his chest pinning him down and preventing him from breathing properly?

"Yer'a Liar," he managed to speak.

"Holy diver?" the stranger asked, the words sharp in their confusion.

"No," he urged, the one word taking what air he had left. He sucked in another breath as best he could, repeating with fewer words, "Liar."

The weight on his chest got abruptly heavier and he lost what breath he had managed to take in.

"Why does it matter?" the stranger ground out. Their voice sounded distant.

He swallowed and tried to take in a deep breath.

The thing on his chest wouldn't move.

"Because I can't see," he pointed out, the words barely more than a breath. "I can't...." He sucked in what air he could get. "I can't see. I can't tell how bad any of my injuries are."

The silence enveloped him but the weight on his chest didn't increase. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing he couldn't reach up and find out if something was truly on his chest.

"You..." Their words stalled out. He waited. "You had some sort of fit. It...it made a number of your injuries worse."

The weight eased but it was minute and he wanted to shove at it. "How so?"

Something broke.

Not literally, thankfully, but something in the air gave and the weight on his chest became half what it was as the stranger suddenly moved. It sounded like whatever they had been sitting on fell over. "Why should I tell you? Why am I even here?! I should have up and ditched you here the moment I found you! Should have kept going but no! I had to stop and drag your frozen ass out of the snow, patch up injuries I know nothing about tending, and then watch you suddenly go through some fit that scared me half to death for who knew what reason on both accounts that made everything worse!"

The stranger's breathing was ragged and he wondered if the same weight on his chest was constricting theirs. "You can leave," he informed them. "I'm not keeping you here."

The stranger scoffed at him. "Like I'm going to leave you in your current state. Can you even lift a finger?"

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, yes-"

"Your hand?" the stranger barked, cutting him off.

He offered a tired, amused smile. "No, but that doesn't mean you have to stay here."

There was an odd thunking sound and for a moment he couldn't place what it was. "I'm not going to leave you just so you can die."

He settled on it being them righting their seat. "I won't die if you remove whatever's covering my eyes for me."

That heavy silence came back and some of the weight returned.

"Removing the wrappings won't bring back your sight," the stranger offered heavily.

Even with how much weight left at that, he still couldn't seem to get his breath back. "What?" he finally gasped out. "Why?"

Why couldn't he seem to breathe?

"Because it's already off."

His arms twitched in his sudden desire to feel the truth but the stranger was a step ahead of him pinning his arms against the mattress. He wasn't sure what left his throat but his eyes burned and his face stung and it was all he could do to try and shake the stranger off.

He woke slowly this time in every sense of the word. He couldn't remember falling unconscious but the fire was still crackling where it had been crackling the last two times. There was a shuffling before the sound of footfall on wood informed him someone was approaching his bedside.

"Welcome back," the stranger offered weakly.

It would seem they were still alone as far as he could tell.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

More sounds of the stranger moving about - something scrapping against a wood surface briefly. A few clinking sounds and then something was pressed to his lips. A few meager drops of water slipped into his mouth. It wasn't till after the second spoonful that the stranger actually answered.

"I'm not really sure. Just seems fitting."

When the spoonfuls stopped, he let the stranger put the water down before asking, "So how bad is it?"

The stranger released a breath but he couldn't tell if it had been a laugh or a sigh. "You're going to have to be more specific. Or at least tell me where to start."

"My eyes," he clarified. "They had been wrapped before."

"Yes, but they're not damaged like that." There was shifting beside him. Cold fingers brushed over raw skin.
He shuddered at the sensation. "There's a nasty cut that missed both your eyes that I couldn't bandage normally." The stranger moved away. "I have it uncovered right now because I didn't want to freak you out with your eyes covered again."

"I appreciate the consideration," he offered in turn. "Then my sight?"

There was a brief pause as if they had physically responded to his question first. "I'm not a doctor."

"Best guess."

"Best guess?" they repeated like they weren't sure what he had asked. "Best guess would have to be you hit your head on something. I've heard its possible to lose your sight from hitting your head but I've never seen it actually happen."

Diggory gave a soft smile. "Sounds like a good enough theory to me."

The stranger scoffed. "Some theory you're trusting, half baked by both of us."

He wanted to shrug. "Unless you have any other theories that work better, I'm good with going with the one that doesn't sound overly permanent."

He didn't realize there was a pause in their conversation till the stranger informed him, "It might not come back."

He swallowed the urge to scream. "But it coul also come back."

"Yeah," the stranger agreed weakly. "It could."

"But I shouldn't hold my breath."

The stranger gave a huff of a chuckle. "Probably not."

The crackling fire filled the silence between them. He was surprised when they didn't say anything or get up to do something. But he wasn't strong enough to stay awake and he found himself falling asleep.

"Do you have a name?"

He took in a breath to wake himself back up. "Diggory," he offered simply. A slight weight pressed against his chest. He ammended, "But it was a name I was given, borrowed from another. So, not really."

The weight left. The stranger huffed. "I'm gonna call you Roy, then."

"Roy?" Not that he was complaining. His current name could be a mouthful and he could see where they had gotten 'Roy' from. Least it wasn't 'Alex' or something outlandish like that.

"Why not? It's short, it's easy, and it suits you so much better."

A smile pulled at the corners of his lips at the teasing undertone. "I don't know. I think Diggory suits me quite well."

"I could call you Dick," the stranger retaliated,

He flinched from that, laughing. Pain flared all throughout his body. "Please no."

"Then put up with Roy."

"What do I call you in turn?"

Silence greeted his question. The longer it stretched, the stronger his apprehension grew.

He licked his lips before offering softly, "You don't-"

"Iro."

His words stumbled to a halt as his brain took in the word. "Iro?" he lamely parroted.

"It's some random word I know from some place too far for you to have visit. It's nothing important but certainly easy enough to remember."

Something pressed into his chest. He thought it was rather similar to the strange pressure that had pressed into him when the stranger wouldn't tell him about his injuries. It also informed him as to why he had been apprehensive to lies that first wake up. Somehow he knew what would happen without it actually happening till later.

Somehow he knew calling the stranger a liar again wasn't going to help this time. "What does it mean?"

The stranger brushed his question away. "I don't remember."

The weight on his chest increased. "You wouldn't have chosen it without reason," he coaxed.

The silence was only broken by the fire.

"It...means 'fake'."

He frowned as the weight vanished. "Why do you want me to call you 'fake'?"

The stranger chuckled. "It's accurate."

The weight didn't return.

"Alright. Iro, then." He shifted deeper into the mattress only to hiss when it caused him pain. "Do you have a story?"

"A story?" the stranger - Iro - repeated, incredulous. "I'm not telling you a bedtime story."

He laughed. "No, no. A life story: how you got here, what keeps you going, tales of friends and family."

"Oh." There was some shifting at the side of his bed. "Not one that's interesting."

He grinned. "Neither is mine but I'd happily share if that's what you want in return."

The stranger leaned back. "There's no way I'm not becoming insane if I'm actually considering telling you."

He shrugged out of reaction rather than thinking about it and shied away from the sudden flare of pain. "I'm a stranger," he ground out. As the pain faded, he found it easier to relax and his voice reflected that ease. "It's easier to tell your life story to someone you'll probably never see again."

Iro hummed but he couldn't tell if they were agreeing with him or just taking the information in. "Tell me yours first."

Diggory gained a thoughtful look as he started too dredge up memories. "I don't remember any childhood but my adult years were rather secluded. As far as any family goes, they either never existed for me in the first place or abandoned me early on in whatever form that could have been, their choice or otherwise."

"I'm sorry," Iro muttered, the words oddly heavy. "That's....not having family can be hard."

Madam Jasmine - Jamie popped into his head and he found himself replying, "It was but that didn't stop others from all but adopting me as part of what they considered family." Neryk popped into his head too. "I learned from them how to choose my own family."

Iro hummed, agreeing with him. "Sometimes we have to make our own families."

With as much care as he could manage, he rolled his head in the other's direction. "Personal experience?"he asked, a playful smile on his face as his serious question held a teasing undertone.

The soft thing was back, colliding oh so gently with the side of his face. "It wasn't like the family that bore me wanted to keep me around."

Unlike his teasing, the humor in their statement was used as a defensive tactic.
It pulled at his heart and it was all he could do to fight the urge to reach blindly for them in hopes of conveying physical comfort. "Certainly they weren't that cold-hearted," he tried.

Iro gave a bark of a laugh. "Oh please. The instant I showed anything outside the norm, they kicked me to the curb with nothing to my name and no way of making it in a world that hated me for being different. I scraped by, surviving for far too long till I could get back up on my feet and show them just how different I could be. I had plans of rewriting the world order so that no one else would ever have to go through the same thing I did. Never."

Diggory couldn't find words to offer, nothing to soothe the pain he hadn't realized he could cause with a simple inquiry. He should have left it be and yet he couldn't bring himself to feel overly bad about it. If nothing else, he now knew a bit more about his stranger of a companion.

"Did you ever make it?" he asked softly. "Did you ever get your plans to come to fruition?"

There was a brief moment of silence filled by the crackling of the fire. Without being able to see, he couldn't tell what kind of silence it was.

"Not yet. There's still so much to do but it's getting there."

He offered a smile. "I'm glad."

Another weird silence.

"Why?"

He hummed his question.

"Why are you glad? So many people are fighting me every step of the way."

"Because I believe in your intention, of making the world a better place for those that aren't part of the norm; of creating a world that supported everyone, not just those that have claimed themselves as perfection."

This time he could tell the silence was strained but he couldn't find words to fill it.

"You really don't know who I am, do you, Diggory?"

Diggory turned his head but without any sight, it was instinctual motion. "I could guess," he offered with a soft smile. "After all, Arcane and Egos were both wary of the House of Sleep, of what could happen within."

"So who am I?" Diggory found his tongue heavy but Iro was having none of it. "Diggory. Who am I?"

He took a deep breath but there was no strange weight on his chest as he replied, "I wish I could actually see. You sound so much younger than I had always assumed you would be, Professor."

Iro let out a breath, the sigh heavy but sounding oddly relieved. "That would be because I am not that old. In fact, I'm probably no older than you are despite how non-human you are."

Diggory offered a soft smile. "What gave my non-humaness away?"

"All this."

He frowned. "How so?"

"Well, for one, you're actually injured. Most in this plane have some sense of control over what they look like and what they experience, despite how unconscious of it they may be. Second, the fact that you're still blind. This is nothing more than a mindscape of sorts and things like blindness, illness, and pain aren't supposed to be here." A pause, a breath, one that he found he couldn't interrupt. "Third....is how real this mindscape is. I've never been in the mindscape of another that has been so potently real that it has made me question my memories as yours has. You are either one of the most powerful beings on this planet or our harmony must be out of this world."

"Our harmony?"

"Resonance? Same wavelength?" Iro offered in turn. "Magical compatibility?"

"How would that affect this?"

The other let out a breath. "Well, it would explain how this is all so real. I've normally never have to worry about injuries in mindscapes but in yours I've already pricked myself with a needle, felt the burn of ice and fire on my skin, and have felt proper exhaustion. I've gotten hungry, have had the urge to go pee, have even fallen asleep while very uncomfortable in a chair. All of these are not consistent with what I've experienced."

"And that has something to do with our magic matching?"

There was the sound of something shifting. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Beyond something outside of both of us tying us together for whatever reason."

Silence settled over them again but it was comforting. He all but dozed off by the time Iro broke the silence.

"You seriously have no hard feelings towards me just because I'm the Professor?"

Diggory let out a soft chuckle. "In all honesty, I don't even know who I'm supposed to be looking for beyond the Professor mantel. The Other did a number on my memory and despite being able to remember every memory I had with quite a bit of clarity, it tells me nothing of what I have to be watching for."

Iro hummed. "So I could be the wrong Professor, then."

"Possibly, if you're not at the top of IPPA's 'Most Wanted' list," Diggory agreed, though the words were getting heavy on his tongue as exhaustion pulled at him again. Iro hummed again. Diggory waited a moment before asking, "How many are there that use the Professor mantel for things other than teaching."

"I'm not sure of the exact number," Iro confessed. "Professor Richard's work - the first 'Professor' - his work was big in Japan, North America, Spain, and Russia at minimum. There could be numerous copycats or just one other. The only thing I know is that I'm not the only one. Whether I'm the specific one you're looking for, I couldn't tell you."

"Are you continuing Professor Richard's work?"

"With the Crystal Heart? No," Iro dismissed. "It wouldn't help me in what I want to do but it is on my radar enough for me to keep an eye out for anyone that could and would threaten my intentions."
"What are you intentions?" he asked, curious. "Certainly you've got more going than just simple drive to change things. You've got plans, intentions. What are they?"

"Why do you ask? Looking for a body count or something?"

Diggory found himself chuckling. "Not completely. More of if you're going to try and do this with as little bloodshed as possible."

"If I can, I will." A beat. "You do realize the moment I get going on my plans, IPPA's going to be breathing down my neck with their hands reaching for my throat, right? I'm not going to be able to get out of this alive if I try to keep all of them alive."

"I know," he assured them. "I'm more concerned about the bystanders than the ones going up against you. They know what they're getting into. The bystanders, not so much."

Iro gave a huff of a laugh. "You're an odd one, Roy. You know that?"

He grinned. "It's hard to ignore."

Iro fell silent for a moment again and Diggory found himself yawning. It hurt but it wasn't like he could keep it from happening.

"Go to sleep, Diggory," Iro urged.

His lips quirked up to a smile even as he settled more into the bed. "I thought you weren't going to call me Diggory,"

That soft thing collided with his exposed cheek. There was no power behind it so it ended up being more of a touch than a collision. "Go to sleep, smartass."

Diggory gave in immediately.

This time when he woke, he didn't feel like death warmed over.

"I have breakfast ready. You hungry?" Iro asked. The other's voice seemed oddly distant. The strangeness was quickly answered when he sniffed the air and heard the clank of a utensil against a pan. "I made breakfast."

"If there's some for me, absolutely," he readily replied. It took a bit of maneuvering - and Iro's assistance - to get propped up on some pillows. Even just trying to eat was a task within and of itself without sight. Eventually he got the hang of it but it certainly wasn't easy.

It was all worth it.

Iro was an incredible cook and he found himself contently full by the end of it all. It was when Iro was removing Diggory's plate that they asked him a question.

"Who are Arcane and Egos?"

His thoughts now more awake than they had been before food despite their well rest turned the question over. He didn't want to lie but telling him the full truth seemed dangerous. "I guess they count as my magic teachers."

"Magic teachers?"

"Yeah." Diggory shimmied a bit deeper into the covers and pillows. "I want to get a better understanding of magic to the point where I can feel its presence when I'm in a heavily - or not so heavily - saturated space."

"You can't do that now?"

He shook his head, mindful of the injuries he had.

"So take on me." Diggory hummed his confusion. Iro elaborated. "I'm a self taught magic user. If nothing else, it would give you some different insight and perspective when learning formally."

"Can you sense magic?"

The crackling fire filled silenced seemed thoughtful to him.

"I can see it, feel it, and work with it. I can gauge how much magic is in a person, follow the trail of magic they leave behind, and send messages along said trail."

His eyes widened even without him being able to see. "That's possible?"

Iro hummed an affirmation. "It takes a bit of work and a lot of practice, but I don't see why you couldn't be able to. Even without me being able to see your magic level now, I'm still betting on it being large.

That brought a thought to mind. "How are you going to teach me if I don't have magic here?"

"You don't?"

"I couldn't feel it when I fell in the snowstorm."

"Hmmm." Diggory listened to Iro's chair creak. "We'll have to get you accustomed to it from the mindscape, then, first. You shouldn't be that separate from it even in here. Especially in here."

"Can I do that from the bed?"

Iro's chair creaked again. "It's the only thing you can do till your injuries are less likely to open again and I'd rather not push our luck with your health seeing as you'll be bumping into everything till you either got used to everything's location or used magic to see."

"Like a spell?"

Iro made a noise. "More like echolocation without sound or a pulse. It's a way to see with more than just sight. It is great for when you can't see, be it blind or trying to find someone in a maze."

Diggory smiled at that. "How long would that take to learn?"

"That more depends on how well you connect to your own magic. If you are able to find it and reconnect quickly, then there's a greater chance you get this just as quickly. But it's not a universal thought. Everyone has challenges with it. I had challenges with it when I was first starting and most people called me a natural when it came to anything magic related. But, in the meantime." Iro stood up. "The best way to find your magic is to search internally for it. Most people use meditation. You can do whatever suits you best. If you can get some sleep, though, that would probably be a better place to start."

He frowned even as he felt exhaustion playing at the back of his mind. "Why?"

"You still have a fever and are not quite well yet. This will be taxing in many ways - even this first part - so the better rested you are before we dive too deep, the better."

Diggory gave a bit more into the pillows and blankets. "And when I wake, you'll teach me?"

Iro chuckled. "The only reason why I would leave is if you left this mindscape. Otherwise I'm stuck here."
True to their word, Iro was still there when he woke and he was glad to still be in the House of Sleep. Now it was just a matter of time of how long he could wake up dreaming in that strange world Iro called a mindscape - his mindscape. That still boggled his mind.

"Welcome back," Iro greeted him from somewhere near the fire. "Ready to learn?"

"Absolutely."

Despite how ready he was, he quickly found the things Iro was having him do equal parts frustrating and exhausting as he tried to keep his balance trying to maneuver around a chair. Iro's hands were quickly becoming rather familiar.

"Easy, Roy," they urged gently. "Remember, you're still healing. This will take time to get over until you manage to take control of the mindscape."

"If I can."

Iro let out a breath. "Doubting if you ever will isn't going to help you get control."

He smiled at that. "No, it was more of the thought that this may have been constructed for me. As much as it is my mindscape, I am just as much of a guest in it as you are."

"That 'house of sleep' thing you were talking about earlier?"

He nodded. The motion threw off his balance and Iro's hands pressed into his body keeping him upright. "Arcane and Egos were not comfortable with having me experience it but both agreed that it was necessary to get it done and over with first and foremost. If I couldn't live through the House of Sleep, then there was no point in me continuing on."

"Why?"

He shrugged. A muscle in his back spasmed and he ignored it. "I couldn't quite tell but from what I understood to the point that I could, they were talking as if it was someplace I could get lost in to the point of never making it out again."

"Will you?"

He ran his hand over the top piece of the chair's back taking in the grain of the wood. "I don't know. I hope so, if for nothing else other than being able to meet you properly."

Iro's touch tightened before releasing him, letting him wander the maze that the other had made while he had slept. It was hard to try and wander it without using his arms to feel his way or test the route with his foot. "We can't meet in person, Roy," Iro spoke, the words rolling like a repeated reminder while feeling heavy like regret. "That would spell disaster for both of us. I've told you as much."

A soft smile pulled at his lips. "I know, but I still want to meet you, to see you."

"You'll see me soon enough once you get the hang of this mindscape of yours."

His foot connected with some object. The only reason he didn't pitch forward past the point he could keep standing was Iro's hand suddenly clinging to the back of his shirt. They pulled, bringing him back upright as their hands splayed across his back to counter the momentum in the other direction. He pressed back against their hands as he tapped a foot along the new obstacle. It was a wall of the maze and he chose a direction.

"Still not the same," he commented.

He could practically feel Iro rolling their eyes. "Yes it is."

"No, not really," he countered, amused. "You said people can manipulate their mindscape, can make it look like or do whatever they want. Wouldn't that include themselves?" He didn't get a response from Iro, though the hand still holding onto the back of his shirt seemed to tighten. He hadn't really been looking for one as he added, "And isn't it possible that what appears as them in the mindscape is how they see themself rather than a true representation of who they are?"

"Fair point."

The silence between them was only disturbed by his shuffling, the occasionally bumped object, and the fire he was certain they were circling. Iro didn't let the maze wandering last overly long, though, depositing him on the bed a few minutes later. Injuries were checked and rewrapped.

"You really think this place isn't yours to control?" Iro voiced as he settled back into bed.

He shrugged, ignoring the pain it caused. "It would make sense. What with my injuries and lack of sight, no control over anything."

"Your inhumanness," Iro added.

Diggory couldn't help the smile that pulled at his face. "It will be nice to have magic again. If for nothing else than to be able to work with it and get better at using it."

"You don't feel weird without it?"

"No." He mulled over whether to share more or not for about two seconds before he explained, "I was forced to experience a whole life without magic not overly long ago. It was so intense that the memories of that....fake life were so ingrained into my consciousness that when I returned here - well, not here specifically - I didn't remember anything prior to the fake life I had lived and died in. Even when I had magic back, I hadn't felt any different. It wasn't till I started learning to work with it again that I started to notice its presence."

"That's..."

"Not normal?" he offered helpfully. He smiled. "Yeah. A dear friend of mine managed to get to me before I created any sort of panic by not being my normal self afterwards. Hopefully when all of this is said and done, I won't ever have to worry about magic or Professors ever again."

"You do realize that sounds like you see death as an option."

He shrugged again. This time the pain was worse and he chalked it up to the maze wandering. "I've already died once. It doesn't really phase you after that."

Iro shifted, their normal chair creaking from the motion. "Well, make sure it's the last option. Don't go dying on your friends and family yet."
Diggory grinned in their direction. "I can do that. But only if you do the same."

A strange tension filled the room and for not the first and probably not the last, he desperately wanted to be able to see Iro's expression.

"Sure." The chair creaked as the sound of footfall told him Iro had stepped towards the fire. "Get some rest, Roy. We'll see what else we can get you to do in the morning."

"You too, Iro." Diggory shifted deeper into the mattress. "Good night."

"Good night."

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Time moved on farther than either of them were comfortable with. Wherever Arcane and Egos had sent him, there didn't seem to be an end to his stay. Even Iro voiced how strange the length of time was as the first month rolled past. By the time they reached month four, it was hard to remember there had been anything before.

The weather changed as it would anywhere else. It went from snow to cold rain to heat. There wasn't a surplus of food beyond the initial stores that got them through the longer snowstorms in the beginning but the lands seemed plentiful with game to hunt, fish to catch, and flora to cultivate. It was peaceful.

"This is starting to get ridiculous," Iro commented, dropping the latest catch onto the porch. Diggory made a face as the thought of having to scrub the porch before nightfall. "Are you certain you can't control anything?"

Diggory walked the length of the porch to the barrel tucked against the outer corner of the railing. The back of his hand bumped against the rail first but there was no hesitation nor surprise like there had been those first months. While he still wasn't sure of the land beyond the cabin, he knew his way around his temporary home. It helped Iro kept things where they belonged now that the place was cleaned up. The small bucket - though it was probably closer to a small flower pot than a bucket - was hanging upside down where it was supposed to be. The water within the barrel was cold against his hand and rapidly cooled the bucket. A smile played at his lips. "Nothing has changed, Iro," he assured the other. "I will let you know the instant it does."

There was a huff from the other as their footfall approached. The other was light on their feet but Diggory could hear their footfall as surely as he could hear his own heartbeat at night. "I know." The bucket was pulled from his grasp. Iro touched their fingers to his and Diggory wrapped his hand around the offer appendage. Iro squeezed his hand in turn. "It's just, I'm getting anxious. If we're not separate from the time passing back home, then we're wasting time without being able to do anything."

"I know," Diggory assured them. He gave a gentle pull and Iro followed. The other pressed their forehead to his shoulder as he pressed the back of their hand to his chest. "I'm worried too. I left several people I hold dear without a word of where I was going and I fear for the ramifications that followed my disappearance." His grip tightened on their hand. "But I still believe that there is the possibility that very little if any time has passed back home. I believe what we experience here is outside of normal time and it's just a matter of finding the exit."

"But I've gone as far as I can and have checked every nook and cranny of the surrounding mountain."

Diggory felt his heart constrict with his next words.

"Only what'll allow you to come home before dark. You haven't gone beyond that boundary."

He didn't want Iro to leave.

But if it meant they could get out, Diggory knew he would survive just fine without the other's company. It hurt, but it was the truth and it reassured him on some level.

"I can't go farther than that," Iro countered sharply, their forehead still firm against his shoulder even as they shook their head in denial.

Diggory smiled as a soft breath of a laugh escaped him. "Yes you can. Just follow the river. It'll give you plenty of food and water with more chances to-"

"I'm not leaving you behind!"

His breath caught in his chest. That hurt. That hurt far more than he had ever thought it would be cause he knew, just knew that he could not follow Iro out beyond the boundaries the other had set in those day trips. Not when he couldn't see. They wouldn't even get past the boundary more than a few yards before they would have to stop. It was all he could do to swallow against the dryness in his throat. "Iro," he tried but the name came out weak. It would have to do as he reminded the other, "I'll only slow you down."

Iro shook their head no again, this time more violently as their other hand came up to grab at his shirt sleeve with enough force that Diggory thought the other was going to manage to put holes in it. The bucket his the floor splashing cold water over his bare feet. It probably splattered Iro too. "I don't care. If I leave this place, it'll only be if you were at my side. I don't..." Iro sucked in a rattling breath and it was all Diggory could do to keep his hands firmly wrapped around the other's hand he had yet to release. "I'm not strong enough to do this on my own."

Diggory offered the other a tight smile even without them looking at him. "Yes you are. You could make it to the other side of this planet without me and still be ready to take on the rest of it. You're a true survivor, Iro. You could make that journey."

"But I don't want to be alone."
He gave in.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Iro, pressing his face into the other's hair as he buried a hand in it at the same time. His other hand clenched at the fabric against the other's back as he felt Iro cling to him in turn.

He gave in. "All I ask is that you are patient and guide me because I cannot see and I do not have the same faith in myself as you seem to have in me."

"Anything." Iro returned, the words soft, hoarse. "Just don't make me do it on my own."

"Not if I can help it."

They left the temporary home the following week. The atmosphere between them had gotten strained but Iro still spoke with him, still brought back game that left bloody patches on the porch, and helped him prep for their indefinite travels.

"Alright," Iro spoke into the chilly morning air. Diggory wondered if the sun was even up. "Let's see if the river leads us anywhere."

The start of a long, slim object was pressed into his free hand and Diggory gripped it just as tightly as the other. "Still a good weight?"

Diggory nodded, shifting his hold so that the end of the long object tapped against the ground a foot ahead of his feet. "Thank you."

There was the sound of fabric on fabric as Diggory let the tip of his new guide stick rest against the ground. "Of course. Don't hesitate to speak up."

"I will."

There was a pause before Iro's hand wrapped around his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I mean it, Diggory. At any point, just speak up. I'll lead but you set the pace. We're in no hurry."

Diggory nodded and tried to smile again. It didn't feel quite right.

The journey to the river was the easiest. He had traveled it countless times. The panic came when Iro came to a stop. "This is the farthest you've been. We have a few more hours before we reach the point I always turn back at."

Diggory nodded. "Lead on."

There was a pause. "Ok. If you need me to lead with the guide stick, just let me know."

Hours passed with ease. He slowly grew comfortable following Iro with the guide stick tapping and swinging between them.

"We'll be climbing over some rocks in a little while."

It didn't last.

"Climbing how?" he asked, trepidation heavy in his words.

"Nothing serious, the ground will just become a bit more treacherous. I'll be at your side the entire time."

It wasn't as bad as he had feared it would be.

"This is it."

He paused as his foot settled on a large rock. The hand around his guide stick was just as hot and sweaty as the one clutching Iro's hand. The other's arm was under his, supporting him on the uneven terrain.

"This is the point of no return."

He turned his head towards Iro. "This is where you've turned back?"

Iro hummed an affirmation.

They kept going.

The day decayed into night and they camped in the treeline. When it came time to sleep, Iro situated the blankets and pads to make a single bed. Diggory was grateful; there was a sort of calm strength that eased the tension of being so far from their temporary home that came from feeling Iro breathe beside him. The more days that passed and the more nights they shared side by side, the easier wandering nature half blind became.

Till they collided with something solid that even Iro couldn't see.

"I don't understand," the other growled as Diggory pressed his hand against whatever it was. It felt like cool metal, smooth and blemish free no matter where he dragged his fingers. "The scenery goes beyond this. I can see a blasted flock of birds tree hopping."

He smiled at the turn of phrase. It always brought the most amusing images to mind. His hand found the first blemish on the wall.

There was a chirruping from in front of him and he leapt backwards with a squawk.

"Diggory!"

He reached blindly for Iro as the other ran to him. "Iro, I don't know what happened. I found something strange and then there was a sound and-"

"You opened a door."

His thoughts collided to a stop. "I...what? How?"

Iro's grip on him tightened. "I don't know. But it leads into a metal hallways."

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "Iro," he started but there was too much going on in his mind that he couldn't even fathom what he had wanted to say.

"Stay close," Iro urged, moving Diggory's grip to the other's pack and hip before starting forward. Diggory dutifully followed behind, letting Iro guide him more behind the other's pack as the air changed. He shuddered. Whatever hallway they had stepped into felt freezing cold after the warm day they had stepped in from.

"Which way?" Iro asked.

Diggory frowned. "Why are you asking me?"

Iro gave his hip a soft squeeze. "They look the same to me. I can't tell if there's anything significant in either direction beyond both ways ending at new hallways."

Diggory pressed his face into Iro's pack. "Right," he chose.

Iro turned right.

Their footfall echoed in a way that made Diggory's head spin. It almost sounded like they were being followed but every time he stumbled, the sounds would be too exact to be someone following after them.

Iro came to an abrupt halt and Diggory pressed into the other's pack. He felt Iro's hands grab at his hips to steady him as he brought his face out of the pack enough to whisper, "Iro? What is it? What do you see?"

"Where did you say you were sent to again?" Iro asked, words tight.

It took him a moment to figure out what Iro was talking about. "The House of Sleep. Why?"

"Because I think we're lost in space."
Whatever he had been standing on gave out from under him and he nearly lost his grip on Iro's pack in turn. The guide stick clattered to the metal floor as Iro's hands clenched painfully at his hips as the other cried out. Whatever the other had shouted sounded like it was trying to reach him through several feet of water as his entire being seemed to shut down. Nothing seemed able to break through whatever had a hold of his mind.

Warm hands cupped his face and Diggory blinked. It focused his mind but did nothing else.

He still couldn't see.

"I don't understand," he shakily breathed out. "I-we were in a mindscape. How-how are we in space?!"

"I don't know," Iro urged, a thumb rubbing at Diggory's cheek in a soothing gesture. "But it'll be fine. We'll figure out what we're on and we'll get the heck out of here."

He gripped at Iro's wrists, begging, "Please don't leave me alone in here. Iro, please, not here, not back there. I don't-I want to go back home to Jamie and Neryk. Please don't leave me here. I don't want to die."

"I know," Iro spoke, their voice cracking even as they tried to keep it steady. "I know. I won't. I'll get you home, and you can introduce me to Jamie and Neryk and everyone else. We'll get out of this and we'll get home. But in order to do that, I need you to calm down for me."

"I can't," he choked, shaking his head in Iro's grasp. "I can't!"

"Diggory," Iro coaxed. "Take a breath with me, ok? Breath in..." The other took in an audible breath and he found himself unconsciously following suit. "Breathe out..." The other released the breath and he did the same. "Diggory, can you tell me three different textures you can feel right now?" He started to shake his head but Iro shifted and it seemed like the other was pressing in on him. "Just three textures. Please."

His mind went to the surface his back was pressed into. He briefly wondered where his pack had ended up. "Hard," he spoke, frowning. Was that right?

"Two more."

Seemed enough for Iro. His thoughts went to the other's hands. "Rough." To the skin beneath his hands. "Soft."

Iro shifted before him. The sense of the other pressing in on him eased. "Can you name two items those describe?"

He could. "The wall." His grip on Iro's wrists eased. "Your hands."

Iro's forehead rested against his. "Can you name an item you brought with you?"

The answer was on his tongue before Iro finished asking. "The guide stick you made me."

Iro released a breath and Diggory could feel the tension leaving the other's body. "You going to be ok now?"

He nodded, giving the other's wrists a squeeze as Iro pulled back. "Thank you."

Iro removed his hands from Diggory's face. "Thank me when I get you home."

Iro pulled him to his feet. He didn't feel like the world was going to shatter around him anymore.

They traversed the hallway keeping with the outside wall. Iro spoke mildly of what they were seeing beyond the windows. So far it was only stars.

It felt like hours before he spoke up. "Iro," he started.

"I know," Iro commented. "I'm getting tired too. We're at another hallway. You ok if we go down it and find a room to settle in?"

He nodded.

Unfortunately it meant more walking and it seemed like two more hours passed before Iro finally stopped walking. "I found a room with a bed. It looks unused. You ok with using it?"

"If it means we're not sleeping on the metal floor, I'm all for it."

Iro chuckled and entered the room fully.

Diggory explored the small space as Iro went about securing the room. Diggory didn't ask questions about the place and Iro didn't bother giving any. He found that the room had another door that led into what he was assuming was the bathroom. It was confirmed when Iro joined him, though the other stayed in the doorway. "Wow. This actually looks like a normal bathroom, proper toilet and everything."

He frowned. "That's...really strange."

Iro hummed in agreement. "Do you want to shower or sleep?"

He looked towards the other. "A shower would be nice but I don't want to stumble my way through exploring a new shower. Too tired for that."

"If you're comfortable with it, I can shower with you. The shower is large enough and that way we're not left alone."

The exhausted, stressed part of him was relieved when Iro offered that. He wasn't sure he would have been able to ask. "Please. If you don't mind."

"Not at all. Let me grab some of our things. Go ahead and strip down."

The shower was nice and hot. It warmed up the small space well that even without him being under the stream of water for the entire time didn't freeze him out. Before he knew it, he was dried off, in fresh clothing, and tucked under familiar blankets with Iro at his side. Sleep came quickly and he happily gave into its warm embrace.

Just as quickly as it cradled him, it was ripped from him.

There was a cacophony of noise and strange hands were suddenly on him. Shouting and screaming rang through the room and no matter how much he struggled, whatever was grabbing at him was dragging him free of the bed with little struggle.

"No!" he shouted, finding his voice in all of the sound. "Let me go! Iro!"

"Diggory! Let him go!" the other shouted back but even that seemed distant.

"Save me!" he screamed, tears streaking down his face as he twisted, trying to blindly reach towards Iro.

"Leave him alone! Diggory!" Iro screamed in turn but the distance between them had gotten even greater and it was all he could do to keep fighting.

"Iro!"
There was a hiss of the pressure stabilizing on both sides before the door opened. He stepped through without a glance at the personnel waiting for him

"Where is she?" he asked, shrugging off his jacket.

"We've tried to get her to calm down and listen but she's being adamant about seeing the prisoner," the personnel rushed, their footfall quick to keep up with his long strides. "We're not sure what to do and are glad you're here."

He huffed. "That doesn't answer my question. Where is she?"

"Oh! Ah, still...still trying to get in the room. It's just up ahead."

Voices echoed down the hallway towards them and he heard her before he saw her. Sure enough, she was arguing with the personnel standing guard over a closed door. "I am your superior. Let me in."

"Madam, we can't," the personnel urged. "He's already killed fourteen people. We don't want to lose you too."

"Jamie," he cut in, stalling whatever she had to say. He didn't gain her gaze immediately but he did have her attention and that was all that mattered. "Leave the poor chap alone."

She rounded on him. "Not until I see him personally."

He frowned as the personnel spoke to him, "The Professor was found on board. We are not sure how the two of them made it on board but she is adamant about talking with the Professor's accomplice. We're still looking into who he is but so far there is nothing on the accomplice."

He looked to the other leader before stepping up to the door and looking through the small window set into the plating. The person inside was sitting against the far wall, table and chairs strewn at the edges of the room and splotches of what could be perceived as blood everywhere. Even with the person covering their face, he knew immediately it was Diggory.

That would explain why she was so adamant about seeing the man.

But his attention went to the other piece of information the personnel had provided him and asked with a frown, "You said this man was with the Professor and is considered an accomplice?"

The personnel nodded. "They had settled to rest in one of the unused personnel quarters. When we separated them, they shouted for the other."

He sneered. "And whose bright idea was it to separate two magic users?"

"Master Harper."

"I'm going to kill that woman," Jamie muttered behind him.

He was inclined to agree with her.

"And the Professor; are we sure this is the one we were looking for? There have always been reports of copycats and shared names world wide."

The personnel nodded. "It was confirmed by a number of sources, Master Harper and Leader Metz included."

"Can you take us to where this Professor is being held, then? I have a few questions for him."

The personnel glanced at the other one he had almost forgotten was there. "Yes, but Richards cannot come with."

He waved the concern away. "Richards has tasks I am interrupting." He looked to the given personnel. "There's no need for you to accompany any further. You're welcome to return to your duties."

Richards gave a brisk nod. "With all due respect, Leader Credence, I will simply take over watch till Markette returns. There has to be someone here at all times to make sure no one enters."

He dipped his head, acknowledging the choice as a good one. "Then we will make sure not to keep Markette for long." He turned his attention on the mentioned personnel. "Lead the way."

Markette gave the same brisk nod Richards had before turning sharply and leading the way down the hallway. He fell into step after the personnel. She followed suit but he did not miss she was forcing a distance between herself and the personnel. He matched her pace, curious.

"What are the chances this Professor knows what happened to Diggory?" she finally voiced.

He sighed. "Almost nonexistent. He vanished from everyone's memories and all records, including Neryk's. Regardless of whether this Professor had anything to do with that, there's still the unknown factor of what exactly this Professor is after. No one is sure how they both made it on board. Even the security system caught them exiting an interior room with no clear signs as to how nor when they got there."

"Strange. Any theories?"

"The initial is the same as yours: magic."

She nodded. "I would be surprised if it wasn't tied to magic in some way."

"Other than that, nothing of sustenance."

"It's the same for the rumors floating among the crew." She scoffed. "I swear the way the rumors fly through the social chains makes me wonder how they don't manage to send love through it."

"I don't follow," he admitted with a frown.

She glanced at him. "Hook-ups?"

"Ah. I'm sure they do, they just happen to be wary enough to not let us hear."

She gave a huff of a laugh. "Wouldn't surprise me."

"Here we are."

The pair turned their focus on Markette as the personnel stopped at a door. There was a brief exchange of words with the one standing guard before Markette turned to them. "You have twenty minutes. If there are any signs of danger, we will pull you out immediately."

He nodded as she stepped forward. "Open the door."

There was the solid thunk of the lock disengaging before the door itself swung open. The person in the room was bound to a chair with their head bowed in the otherwise empty room. The door gave a resounding thud behind them. He wondered if that was what had her marching right up to the person and yanked on their shirt collar.

"What did you do to Diggory?"

The Professor didn't react. He was startled to find the Professor looked like they had mentally checked out and it took a few blinks before that gaze cleared. When it did, the Professor started laughing.
And continued to laugh. They laughed for so hard and so long that he shared a worried glance with her.

"What's so funny," she demanded but the conviction from earlier was gone.

"Oh," the Professor spoke, cutting through their own laughter sharply. "You want to know what's so hilarious? Even with you coming in here demanding to know what I did? I did nothing; nothing but tend to one of yours for months and I didn't even know it. Didn't even know who he was!" Laughter tumbled from the Professor again. It was easier to make out the hysteria now. The laughter sputtered out but it took a moment for the Professor to continue. "I honestly believed he was some great guy only to find out he was a traitor all along." They rolled their head around to look up at her and he took a step forward, not trusting the grin that spread across the Professor's face. "So, tell me, Madam Jasmine," the name was a purr of syllables, "what did dear Diggory tell you about me? Anything useful?"

"He hasn't said anything," she stated, voice soft but the words still cold. She released the Professor's shirt, letting them fall back into the chair's support.

The Professor frowned at her before their gaze flickered to him. "What? Didn't get much from him and now you're trying a new angle to get more information? Please. It's not going to work."

"He's killed fourteen people," he returned calmly. Her expression twisted in distaste and disbelief.

The Professor didn't miss the expression but the confusion won as he gained their attention again. "What do you mean he's killed fourteen people? He's fucking blind." Their expression darkened. "Unless it was an act." They scoffed, pressing into the back of the chair like they wanted to tip it backwards. Even if they had the mobility for that, the chair was bolted to the floor. "And a fucking good one at that. I actually believed it."

She sent him a worried look. He shared her sentiments as she clarified, "Diggory's blind?"

The Professor rolled their eyes. "For the last five months it's certainly seemed like it. Ran into every wall of the cabin at least five times a day so either he was really good at acting or he was actually blind." The Professor's gaze snapped between them. "Wait, why don't you know this? You're The Madam Jasmine, the one who founded and still actively leads IPPA. It's no secret that you personally interview captives and are scary good at doing so. Why have't you gotten all of this from Diggory yet?"

"He's being treated as a highly dangerous accomplice of yours," he informed the Professor. "His magic has gotten beyond his control and, as such, he as inadvertently killed fourteen people."

A tense silence filled the room as the Professor's expression flickered between disbelief and confusion. "Diggory doesn't have magic. And even if he did, neither of us have been able to touch it in months. Still can't, but that's probably because you've bound my magic with some fancy gadget."

She glanced his way. "There isn't anything binding your magic. You should be able to use it right now."

He frowned. "Which is odd, seeing as you're one of the most wanted magic users." He caught her gaze, commenting, "We'll have to see about that when we get with the leaders here."

She nodded in agreement.

"No," the Professor cut in. "You've bound my magic. I know you have."

"Unless it's some new tech I haven't been informed of, you should be able to use magic at will," she countered.

"No!" The Professor strained against the restraints. "It's bound! I know it is! I haven't felt it in months! If it came back, I would know. It's not. You've bound my magic somehow!"

He took a step forward to counter her step back, words tumbling past his lips. "How would you know?"

"Because I would feel it!" He frowned and the Professor huffed, rolling their eyes again. "Why am I-my magic has always been a buzzing under my skin. That sensation vanished when I was suddenly pulled into some stupid snowstorm in some highest forsaken mountain range with no way to get back. I spend five months with that blind idiot trying to make the best of it and actually got used to not feeling magic. No. If I had my magic, I would know. I would feel it."

He swallowed thickly fighting every instinct that was telling him to run. "Professor," he spoke tightly.

"What," the Professor snapped.

"Look up."

Another eye roll but the Professor complied. "Why would I want to-"

The moment their gaze locked onto what he and Jamie were seeing, the words died instantly. Magic was visibly churning behind the Professor licking at the edge of some invisible boundary. He forced himself to focus back onto the Professor and found that they had gone severely pale, fists clenched so tight there probably wasn't any blood flow in the extremities anymore, and straining against the restrains to cause said restraints to slice through any exposed skin pressed against it.

The silence was nearly as choking as the magic was.

"Professor," he croaked.

It was like a switch had been flicked. The Professor sucked in a breath and with a few blinks, they had gotten themself back under control. The magic vanished; or at least the visual representation had. Wide eyes locked onto him and there was a fear there he hadn't seen before.

The Professor licked their lips. "You have to take me to him."

"Professor," she started but the Professor was shaking their head vehemently.

"No, you don't understand. All you ever do is dance, dance, dance and it gets you nowhere. Even now you're dancing your way through this entire thing. Let me get in there, let me get him calmed down. If I don't, we will have more to worry about than just the vacuum of space."
"Why?" he challenged. "What's going to happen?"

That fear only seemed to get worse. "Are you deaf? I. Can't. Feel. My magic. And if I can't feel mine, that means he can't feel his. He will do unspeakable things, tear this place apart even, and not even know it. He will kill himself with magic if the situation gets too dire." The Professor's expression twisted into something he couldn't name. "And there's no telling what kind of magical backlash will come from that." A breath, like the Professor was fighting for words; or committing to them. Those sharp eyes met his gaze again. "Please. You have to let me try and calm him down."

He shared a glance with her but her resolve was written on her face. At least he didn't have to convince her. The whole 'Diggory might die and we might too' part was probably a big factor. "Ideas?"

She shrugged. "I'm all for the forward approach of just walking right in, the Professor in tow."

He focused back on the Professor. They were still bound to the chair. "Do you have enough control to see this through?"

The Professor frowned. There was a moment that he expected some verbal conversation. Instead, the restraints vanished and their injuries were healed in what seemed to be a single breath. They rubbed at a wrist as they stood. "I can knock people out as needed and remove doors and walls as necessary."

He nodded and turned. He crossed to the door and opened it. Both personnel were standing outside but it was Markette that was looking a bit skittish. The other personnel looked ready for orders and far too willing to do whatever was asked. He focused on Markette. "Are you going to be trouble?"

"I-" Markette choked on the words and he watched as resolve settled the personnel's body. "No, Leader Credence. I'm with you and Madam Jasmine. What do you wish of us?"

He looked to the other personnel as he said, "If you two are not going to try and stop us, I want you to accompany us to the other holding cell so that the Professor can neutralize the threat."

"That sounds like a horr-"

Whatever the Professor was going to say was cut off as a smack sounded from behind him. The muttered cursing coming from the Professor told him that Jamie had smacked them upside the head. Hard too, if the hissed argument that followed was anything to go by.

The unnamed personnel nodded as they responded, "Whatever you and Madam Jasmine need."

Markette mirrored the gesture. "We'll do our best to keep anyone from interfering."

He shook his head. "No. I want you two to make sure the Professor makes it to Diggory. Madam Jasmine and I will keep anyone from interfering."

The two personnel nodded again with the same determined look on their faces. He looked back into the room and locked eyes with the Professor. "We're counting on you."

The Professor waved him off. "Whatever. Just lead the way."

He expected more resistance but the only trouble came as a few personnel running to stop them that were easily stopped with a short order to stand down. The door to Diggory's holding cell was suddenly before them and he felt his gut twist. Richards was waiting for them, expression one of alert attention ready for orders. He wondered what that meant for IPPA if so many personnel were willing to go against one set of leader orders to follow another's.

He stopped just past the door, allowing the Professor access to the window. There was an sharp intake of air and suddenly a furious gaze was on him. "Why hasn't anyone talked him out of his panic attack?"

"We tried," the unnamed personnel stated. "Why do you think the count made it to fourteen."

The Professor tsked. "IPPA's full of idiots." They looked up at him. "I'd suggest you keep your lot out here. There's no use risking more lives than necessary." A vicious grin spread across the Professor's face. "Not that a few of you dying wouldn't help me out in the long run."

He rolled his eyes and gained a laugh from the other. "Whenever you're ready, Professor."

Their expression sobered immediately and those sharp eyes locked onto Diggory again. He watched their chest expand as they pulled in a breath. When their lungs reached capacity, their magic became visible. It churned around the Professor's body similarly to how he had first witnessed it but this time it stayed close to the Professor's body like a coiled snake waiting for the perfect moment to strike. As the Professor released their breath, the magic moved forward, pressing up against the door as if it was trying to get in. Their eyes flickered towards him, towards where his hand hovered over the door release. "Ready."

"Credence!"

"Madam Jasmine!"

He looked towards the voices. "Make sure Diggory's ok, Jamie," he spoke over his shoulder. "The rest of you, with me. We're going to delay Master Harper and Leader Metz for as long as we can. And Professor?" He gained a non-committal hum. He locked eyes with the Professor one last time as he pressed the door release. "Don't mess this up."

He started down the hall without waiting for a response.

The door slid open and their magic rushed forward. It clearly collided with something but he couldn't feel it beyond a mild sense of it touching something. It caused a laugh to rip itself from their throat.

"Professor," they heard her warn and it was all they could do to keep the grin they sent her from looking feral.

"Madam, you would laugh too if you suddenly felt invincible." They looked back into the room knowing that it would take nothing to bind Diggory's magic if necessary. "It's almost making me giddy enough to promise you my confession." This time there was no controlling the grin they shot her. "Almost."
They stepped into the room with utter ease. Their face felt like it was going to spit they were grinning so hard.

It didn't last.

Three pride filled steps into the room and they went from giddy confidence to suffocating. Panic thudded through them as severely as their pulse in their ears. They were going to shatter. They were going to be torn apart and he knew - just knew - that they weren't going to be able to save Diggory. They weren't going to be able to save anyone!

"Professor!"

They jerked back but they didn't go very far. It took their brain a minute to register they were up against a wall and there was a hand between their head and said wall. There were too many bodies too close and they tried to shove those bodies away.

They found their wrists restrained.

They're magic nearly exploded out of them.

"Professor, calm down," he ordered, though he tried to keep his voice careful, gentle. He could feel her breathing down his neck. "You're safe."

"Fuck off," the Professor ground out, still struggling,.

"Is he going to blow us all up?"

He ignored the unnecessary peanut gallery as he slowly released the Professor's wrists. They didn't give him the chance to completely release their wrists before they were jerking out of his grip.

"Professor?"

The Professor pressed the back of their head against the wall, hands pressing into their face with excessive force. If the Professor did not end up with bruising, he would be surprised. "How the hell did I forget?"" the Professor mumbled. He didn't answer and the Professor didn't ask one of him. "I knew who he was, knew explicitly to stay away. How could I forget? How could I have been so stupid!" Abruptly, the Professor turned an accusing glare onto him. "Why the hell did you not warn me he had a crystal heart?"

"A what?" he choked. Out of all the things he expected to come out of the Professor's mouth, that certainly hadn't been on his list.

She spoke up. "I hadn't thought it relevant."

He snapped his head around, staring at her. "Since when did Diggory-"

"He's always had one," she informed him, though her expression belayed her confusion. "You didn't know?"

"I knew he wasn't overly human but he never told me what kept him alive."

"It doesn't matter," the Professor spat. "He not only has a fucking crystal heart, he has the Crystal Heart and both are cracked, if not shattering."

The silence in the hallway was deafening.

"So what does that mean for us?"

He glanced back to the peanut gallery, meeting Master Harper's confused gaze. Leader Metz looked to be piecing it together. He felt envious the other man seemed to understand far more than he did.

"Are you serious?" He turned his attention back to the Professor. "Are you completely dense? If a crystal heart suffer's a crack, the vessel becomes flawed with a high chance of death by shattering. If the Crystal Heart has a crack, then we're all screwed."

"Why?"

The Professor rolled their eyes. As much as he wished for Master Harper would stay out of the conversation, it was the same question he had wanted to ask. "Because the Crystal Heart, the one of myth and legend, is a powerful artifact that is tied to so much more than lore. If you want to live, you need to get him to calm down. Expending himself too much with cracks in both will lead to disaster."

"How do we fix it?" he asked, careful to gain the Professor's attention again.

There was....he wasn't sure how to describe the blend of emotions on the Professor's face but it all settled into a sort of resolve that seemed almost bittersweet in its appearance. "You lot don't do anything." The Professor pushed themself to their feet. "I'll go talk Diggory out of his panic attack. Won't be the first and, if I live through this, probably won't be the last. After that, I'll play it by ear."

"I've never seen him have a panic attack before," she commented offhandedly behind him. He glanced back finding her gaze on Diggory. Her gaze turned to the Professor. "When did he start having them? He was only missing for 10 days."

The Professor stilled a few paces from the door. He caught the edge of a tight expression, one that spoke of so much more than the Professor was verbally letting on. He was certain if the Professor knew of him watching, that expression would have never seen the light of day. There was a huff of a laugh before the Professor offered, "For the two of us, it was months. I don't know what the time frame was between us appearing in that strange world and his disappearance but I wouldn't be surprised if it was for those last five days." They focused back on her, the expression they wore hard to decipher. "Wherever we had ended up, however that had happened, it had left Diggory severely injured. When he discovered he was blind..." Silence settled over the hallway again as the Professor's gaze wandered to Diggory. "Let's just say the episode that followed it, it scared me. He didn't even remember it and ended up having another episode that was - thankfully - tamer. But I couldn't forget that first episode. I would dream of it every night, waking after only a few hours and I watched him struggle with the ones that followed that only made the dreams worse. At least I had some inkling of what to do and as time progressed, we figured out what worked best." They focused on him and Jamie. "I chose to stay because I didn't know who he was and was not affected by his presence as I am now. But even with knowing who he is now, I can't seem to walk away and leave him to suffer and die like this."
"So you'll help him?" she asked, her voice quaking at the edges.

The Professor shrugged. "It's like I have any other option. If I tried to leave, I'm sure the peanut gallery would take me out before I could even discover where the exit is."

He stood up. "Will you be alright going in?"

The Professor looked at him. Those eyes were weary but there was a bittersweet resolve in their depths. Apprehension filled his chest at the sight. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

He took a step forward, hand reaching out to stop the Professor and get a firm answer out of them, but the Professor was across the threshold and far out of reach by the time he finished the motion. He let his hand fall to his side as Jamie joined him. "Be careful," he urged softly to their retreating back. He silently prayed to whatever would listen that this worked without losing any more lives.

It didn't matter now if the Professor was a wanted person or not: that bittersweet resolve in those weary eyes spoke of someone who wasn't planning on coming back and he didn't want to see that happen again.

The magic rolling off of Diggory pressed into their magic but they felt none of the recoil, none of the pressure like they were used to. But instead of causing giddy amazement as it had done before, it barely registered in their mind; the waves of anguish pulsating from the curled form at the other side of the room had their complete attention. Each pulse, each wave that slammed into them grew stronger and far more effective at making them feel like they were drowning as they got closer. Sometimes there were stutters where there were several quick waves right after the other and sometimes the gaps between waves allowed them to suck in a breath.

They couldn't breathe by the time they knelt at his side.

"We're going to pull you out of this mess, alright?" they croaked around the tightness in their throat. A fresh onslaught of waves and while there was nothing physical about the waves themselves, they felt backwards anyways. They gasped for breath as soon as there was a break, surging back upright as quickly as they could manage.

It felt like they were moving through sludge.

"Come on, Roy," they half snarled, half gasped. "It's me. It's Iro."

Another bout of waves.

They found themself on their back staring up at the dark ceiling. The magic churning in the room was blurry and it wasn't till they had blinked a few times that they realized it was because they were crying.

Sobs tore at their chest as they pushed themself upright, struggling to push through the emotions drowning them. It was getting harder to keep remembering the emotions they were feeling weren't theirs.

"Diggory," they ground out. "It's alright. You're safe. I'm here."

"That won't work."

They spun around, magic following the desire only to become useless against a person that wasn't physically there. The ghost looked exactly like Diggory, except they were see-through and an odd color they couldn't name. It was like the ghost was every color at once or couldn't quite settle on one.

Another burst of waves.

The ghost's form flickered like a bad video image.

"And why not?" they demanded, fighting against the desire to just curl up and sob till they passed out.

"Because he doesn't believe you're really here."

They weren't sure if their crystal heart had cracked at that or if it had been their will to live shattering. Not that they had expected to live through their decision.

"But I am here," rushed passed their lips. "I'm not-I'm real, dammit!"

"Are you?"

it was as if someone had turned their blood to ice. Every part of their body seemed numb and heavy with it but there was still a fight in them. "Yes," they snapped. "Far more than you!"

The ghost arched an eyebrow. "Yet you have a crystal heart, are powered by it."

They shook their head, countering, "So? So does Diggory and he's as real as anyone else!"

"But do you know if he actually believes that?"

The adamant 'yes' died on their tongue. It was all they could do to hang on to that stubborn idea that both of them were very real, that nothing would change that, even in the face of this ghost's prodding. "I'll believe it for him," they spoke, their words quaking at the edges. "I'll believe it for the both of us."

"And what if he doesn't want you to?"

They sneered at the ghost but it felt tight. "Then he would have to tell me to my face. Otherwise I'm ignoring everything you've said and wake him up."

They turned their back to the ghost but there was no way they were going to get close enough to Diggory to do anything. There was now a persistent wave rolling off Diggory and it shoved at them. it was all they could do to keep themself from falling apart. Diggory's magic started slipping out from under theirs as they focused more on keeping steady against the torrent of emotions than making sure Diggory's magic was contained.

"Dammit, Diggory," they ground out, fighting against the tears that wouldn't stop. "Come on! Five months I spent at your side helping you through every tough moment, every panic attack! I worked day and night to make sure you were ok - that we were ok - so that when we made it back, it would be on good terms, not this bullshit!" The persistent wave gained more force. "I had never intended for you to ever be put into harms way, my history and enemies be damned!" They ignored the fresh wave of tears that had nothing to do with what was rolling off of Diggory. "Because while superheroes might not exist in our world, you certainly became one for me."
They rubbed at their face, not wanting to admit any of it when they weren't even sure the other could hear them. But the words were easier to speak than they expected and there wasn't any real desire to stop now.

"I had nothing to strive for before I met you. There was nothing driving me beyond the desire the fix the world, to make it so that those like us would be treated equal, that those not like us would be treated equal. My twisted mind had only the one desire to make the world a utopia for all, a place where hate crimes and racism just didn't exist and see it become reality." They buried their hands in their hair. "But there wasn't any drive behind it. There was no spark, no desire to better myself, and I just kept with the motions and lost myself in the work."

A watery laugh bubbled out of their chest. "But then, I was yanked from all of it and thrust into some snowstorm out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to keep myself warm beyond the clothing on my back. No magic, no sense of direction, nothing. Left to freeze to death unless I got stupid lucky." A fond expression pulled their lips into a smile. "And stupid lucky I got: the cabin was the luck and you were the stupid." They laughed again. "I-I honestly thought I had wasted my time saving your sorry ass from the snow when you wouldn't wake up right away. Was tempted to throw you back out just for the sake of it." The smile on their face faltered. "But then you woke up and you were nothing like I had anticipated."

They dragged themself to the wall beside Diggory, leaning up against it so that they didn't have to keep supporting themself. "Sure, I half hoped for someone to be kind and willing to help out but I never thought that I would ever end up with someone that had boundless patience and kindness like you do. I never thought I would ever meet someone that would treat me as if I was worth something more than a passing thought."

The truth choked them briefly. It wasn't anything that needed rectifying immediately and they let their gaze settle on the magics warring above both of their heads. It was pretty easy to realize theirs was very languidly keeping Diggory's back without much difficulty or threat of failing.

"You suddenly became an integral part of my every day life," they continued softly. "Day in and day out I had to make sure I was keeping you and your condition in mind. Day in and day out I ingrained a habit that I knew - I knew that it wouldn't last, that at some point we would get back to reality and I would have to live with the consequences, but then the days continued into weeks and then into months and I forgot." A tight breath. "I forgot that there was a reality to return to that didn't have you part of it. I forgot that going back meant that I would be all alone again." They couldn't breathe and it took far too much effort to get the words around the lump in their throat. "Please, Diggory. I don't..." Their words stalled out and it took all they had to keep going. "I don't want to be alone here, not until you tell me to leave. So be as stubborn as you've always been; stop letting the storm win and come back to me so that I can stop talking to ghosts and start talking with you again." They swallowed thickly before whispering, "I don't want to lose you like this."

The only sound in the room was their own heartbeat in their ears and the churning magic above. It didn't really have a specific sound but it was certainly efficient at filling the silence.

Diggory's magic suddenly slowed down. They weren't certain when it started to change; for them, it was an abrupt transition but there was no way it hadn't been gradual. They pushed themself away from the wall so that they could twist and look at Diggory, searching for some sign that the other was actually pulling himself out of it.

It took Diggory's body starting to move that they actually allowed themself to believe that he was truly coming out of it.

They opened their mouth to offer encouraging words.

A sharp crack shattered the mood.

From one instant to the next, their world was nothing but all consuming pain. They tried screaming, tried ridding themself of the source, but they felt only pain and there was no telling if they managed to actually relieve any of it through their actions.

The floor was cold against their cheek.

Their mouth felt like it had been filled with cotton as the rest of them was too cold to move. Sharp little needles assaulted any part that so much as twitched and while it wasn't the pain they had just experiences, their body seemed overly sensitive to the sensation and they certainly didn't want it to continue.

But what about Diggory?

The thought had them shoving at the floor, blistering pain be damned. Their arms shook with the effort and they felt like they were five times heavier than they had originally been. By the time they were propped up on ramrod straight arms, they were certain they had no more strength to pick their head up and look around.

"Iro?"

The word - their name - was a choked whisper so soft, they almost didn't hear it. It brought their head up for them, bringing it around to stare at Diggory as anxiety and concern warred within their veins.

Those eyes that had never once been able to focus on them were now honed in so sharply, they feared Diggory could see all the flaws within their very being.

"Are you Iro?"
"Diggory," they all but choked. "Thank the Highest. I thought-"

Their words were cut off by a sharp cry.

"Iro!"

They had tried to move closer and while they didn't remember how exactly they had wanted to accomplish such a feat - for some reason Diggory was a good number of paces away but it wasn't too far not to just crawl over to him - they had placed their hand on the ground to shove themself forward in some fashion.

Only, the ground had burned them and ice clung to their bare hand as they brought it quickly to their chest. It sent tremors up their arm and through their body, a strange weakness chasing the pain through their veins. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Searing pain flared in their legs and a scream ripped itself from their lips. In a desperate attempt to be free, they scraped at the ice growing around their legs, trapping them where they were. The ice was unforgiving and what they were able to break off only grew back as it sliced into their palms and pressed into their legs squeezing tight.

The ice stopped abruptly and the relief brought its own cry to their lips. It choked a sob out of them.

Why hadn't their magic responded?

Their entrapment shattered as if it was nothing more than a thin sheet of ice. Their hand tingled as it was freed from its frozen glove, anything warm feeling like pins and needles against their skin. They clung to it anyways.

They weren't sure how much timed passed before they managed to uncurl themself and look at Diggory.

The other was much farther away and curled in on himself. They frowned, unable to tell if they were seeing things or if Diggory's back was indeed quaking. "Diggory?" they called out, moving to stand without putting a hand down on the ground.

"Don't!" Diggory barked, so many emotions behind that one word, it left them bewildered. Diggory's sharp gaze was on them again and it was clear to see whatever had happened to them had freaked him out. "If you come closer, you'll get encased in ice."

That didn't seem quite right. "Come on, Roy," they tried, smiling and opening their arms to him. "I'm fine now. It's not like you did it on purpose."

Diggory shook his head. "But I did cause it without knowing how and that's even worse."

They rolled their eyes. "So your magic's acting up. So what? I'm fine now." They got to their feet without touching their hands to the ground. "And now that I'm not ice covered, let's get you out of here."

"I'm not leaving," Diggory countered.

They ignored the sudden tightness around their chest. "Very funny, Roy. Come on. We're leaving."

Two steps was all they were able to make as they spoke before a sudden wall of ice erupted from the ground as Diggory retaliated, "No! I'm not leaving!" The ice wall settled. "I can't leave."

Despite the wall of ice, Diggory's voice still carried to them, echoing only slightly in the expansive space. They pounded their fist against the wall letting it settle against it. The ice started to burn but they ignored it, demanding, "Why not?"

"I don't want anyone else to suffer."

They slammed their other fist against the ice wall. There wasn't even a crack from the force of it. "Suffer how!? You never coming back will be more devastating than you will ever know!"

An icy wind slammed into their chest and they were thrown backwards. They didn't even get the chance to fathom that as they were swallowed by the icy torrent even as their back hit what counted as ground.

There were screams on the wind.

Emotions, thoughts, and desires assaulted them, ones that were not theirs, ones that were foreign and painful. The majority of it all was sad, morose, and regretful, but there were parts that were furious, frustrated, and enraged, parts that were giddy, mischievous, and excited. It was overwhelming and even when it all abruptly stopped, they were still drowning in it all.

"Wha..." they tried but the words died. They had no breath to even try and finish it anyways.

"I know the Crystal Heart is cracked," Diggory informed them. "It's...I think it's been cracked for a long time. When I first took it on, I hadn't thought anything of it, hadn't even noticed. But I don't think that was because I wasn't affected. I think it was because of Professor Richard's interference, why I'm now suffering the full onslaught."

A strained silence settled over the space but they couldn't hear it beyond the ringing of voices still in their ears. It was a wonder they were even managing to make out what Diggory was saying.

"This is my curse," Diggory finally added, "my burden to bear. One that I'm not willing to pass on to anyone else."

They shot upright, Diggory's words drowning out everything else. They pointed an accusing finger at the wall, snarling, "You promised you would keep that as a last resort, Diggory. Do not go back on that promise now only because you can't see any other solutions!"

"What solutions are there, Iro!" Diggory demanded in turn. "Let the Crystal Heart continue to inflict this kind of harm on another? Because you and I both know that no matter where we buried it, someone would find it. Force it to shatter, then? Do you even know what that will do to the world, much less me?"

"I wouldn't do something as stupid as not removing it from you before doing any such things!" they shouted back.

"I can't be separated from it!"

The ringing silence was deafening.

"What," they tried but the words caught in their throat and they tried to swallow against the sensation. "What do you mean?"

They weren't sure they had been heard as silence filled the space again.

"The Crystal Heart is a part of me."
"If you try to remove it, you'll end up killing me."

Even sitting down it felt like the world was giving out underneath them. They pressed a hand into the ground and the other into their face trying to come to terms with that new information. "No," they croaked. "We can still remove it. We can make sure you're not tied to it anymore."

"Iro." They flinched at the sound of the name they had given Diggory to speak. Its meaning seemed so accurate now. "A crystal heart will merge with the Crystal Heart if in the same host."

They choked; on what, they weren't certain but they were betting it was the first sob that tore through their being. There seemed to be no end to the despair that swallowed them as echoes of cracks played across their own crystal heart. Their crystal heart still resonated with Diggory's even in this strange place leaving traces of what Diggory was suffering through etched onto theirs. But there wasn't the countless souls trapped in the Crystal Heart all crying out at once for them as Diggory was living it.

They were still raw from the echoes of their screams.

"Iro," cut through their suffering. "It's alright. I'm ok with this."

"You shouldn't be!" they shot back. Their gaze snapped up with their words and they found that the ice wall had vanished. Diggory was still as far away as ever but at least he was looking at them, giving them the light of day. "I don't want you to be!"

"Why?" Diggory asked, the word soft and curious, tired even.

"I don't want you to be ok with dying like this!"

Diggory sent them a soft smile, amusement pulling his expression into something that tried to be happy but looked more melancholy. "What difference does one more death make?"

"Everything, when it's you're death we're talking about!"

"Why?"

"Because you can't leave me like this!"

Diggory frowned even as they tore their gaze away. Their entire body was shaking and they knew a part of that was from adrenaline and nerves. The rest of it wasn't important. It was all they could do to keep talking, to explain. "Five months may not be that long but when it's only two people, it becomes forever. I'm too used to your constant presence, too used to knowing that you would always be back at the house when I returned, that the thought of us leaving went from a desire to a dread. I hadn't had that here. I had been alone and I hadn't even realized how alone I had been till I was stuck with you." They forced themself to look at him again. "So you can't leave me like this. You can't just up and ditch me when I don't even get the chance to get to know you outside of that crazy place. I want to see you - the real you - before you up and die on me."

Diggory sent them a soft smile. "Someone once told me that was one way down the boulevard of broken dreams: to always wish for more time in a world where life has an end."

They shook their head. "I don't care. I still want a chance. Can't you at least grant me that?"

That smile fell. They should've realized they were going too far but Diggory was already talking. "I don't get a choice in that, Iro."

"And why not?" they nearly whined.

"Because the Crystal Heart may not hold together much longer."

Ice cold reality shot through their veins. They buried their face into their hands silently fighting the urge to cry again. The silence wasn't strained but they certainly wouldn't call it peaceful.

"You really are ok with it shattering, aren't you?"

They didn't have to look up to know the other simply shrugged. "There's no point in fighting it. It is what it is. At least this way no one else has to suffer like this. And with knowing it's going to happen, I'll be able to keep it from doing any more damage than taking me out."

They chewed on a thought and wondered if he would accept the attempt. He wouldn't if he knew the risk but if he didn't...

"Diggory."

"Hmm?"

"Will you let me attempt to heal the crack?"

"You can do that?"

They finally looked up at Diggory, finding a wide eyed gaze on them. They offered him a smile. For a fake one, it felt rather real. Diggory certainly didn't challenge it as they offered, "I don't see why not and, if nothing else, we lose nothing more with trying." Their smile fell. "Please? I know I'm being selfish asking you to stay but I can't let you just keel over dead without trying everything I can to make sure you live."

Diggory grinned at them. It made the deception taste bitter on the back of their tongue. "If you want to try and fix it, I'll gladly give you the chance. But Iro." The other's expression turned serious even as it stayed soft and curious. "If you can't fix it, I want you to get as many people as you can to safety. Even I don't know how much I can mitigate the damage of the Crystal Heart shattering despite my words earlier."

They gave the other a sharp nod. "Of course."

They gasped, coughing as the air caught oddly in their lungs. It took far too long for the vertigo to dissipate and they were certain the lack of being able to properly breathe at that moment wasn't helping.

The magic colliding above their head informed them that they were back in the room.

Belatedly they realized they had been in Diggory's true mindscape.

Where had the two of them been, then, for all those months?

"You got through to him."

They looked over at the ghost, the one that looked far too much like Diggory for them to be comfortable.
"If just barely," they grunted as they clambered to their feet. The world moved around them and it was all they could do to keep from collapsing onto their knees. The trip into Diggory's mindscape had overwhelmed them and in turn had taken a toll out of their body. "He seemed rather content just wasting away and not letting anyone help him."

"Can you blame him?"

Thoughts filled their mind, most of them memories of things they had known about Diggory before they had finally met; they really could not fault him no matter how much they wanted to. "No, but that doesn't mean I can't at least try."

The ghost hummed behind them. They pushed themself to their feet. Their arms and legs shook with the effort but they kept themself moving. Their magic pressed on Diggory's, calming it as best they could while their magic started to gather in their chest around their crystal heart. They weren't sure why that specifically but they weren't about to ask questions as they approached Diggory.

How had they managed to get so far away? Had their magic reacted to their experience in the mindscape or had it been Diggory's?

"What are you planning on doing?" They glanced at the ghost. For whatever reason it was following them. "Do you even have a plan or are you going to try and talk to him again?"

They arched an eyebrow at the condescending tone. "I have a plan, but that doesn't mean I have to tell you."

The ghost gave them an incredulous look. "So it's a half baked, flying in blind kind of plan, then."

They gave the ghost a shrewd look. "And what's wrong with that?"

The ghost sighed. "You're only going to create more damage."

They felt their lips quirk up at that. "Probably."

There was no rebuttal when they approached this time. Diggory's magic let them get right up to his side and they took full advantage of it. Diggory was still curled in on himself but there was enough room for them to slip their arm in among the tangle of limbs to press their hand to the other's chest. They shuddered. The physical contact - even with it being through fabric - amplified the resonance between their crystal heart and Diggory's. The echoes of voices and emotions made it difficult to concentrate but it wasn't like they needed to concentrate much anymore anyways.

They started to pull all of their magic back in, bundling it tight in their chest to make sure they didn't screw this up. They could practically feel the ghost breathing down their neck but they ignored it, focusing on the Crystal Heart instead. There was no guarantee this would work but they were going to try and be damned if they didn't give it their all.

In the end all the plans they had once held above all else were nothing more than faded memories as they poured all they had into Diggory's crystal heart. They weaved their magic through the cracks, repairing each one as they offered Diggory a silent apology.

He better keep his promise to them after all they were doing for him. They were not above haunting his ass if it came down to it.

The pain was so beyond anything he had ever experience, even agony failed to describe it. He fought against whatever was causing him harm but his body wouldn't react. He was forced to suffer through an eternity of pain with no end in sight.

And then it stopped.

All of it stopped.

The peace that followed was euphoric. He had never realized he had never known true peace till he was in the middle of it and it scared him.

It scared him because that meant something had changed and that never seemed to bode well for him.

He opened his eyes to familiar faces.

"Diggory," Madam Jasmine breathed, the tears in her eyes finally escaping. Her hands were gentle and warm against his cheeks, fingers rough from callouses he knew the stories behind. Leader Valcor Credence was beside her, the man's hand heavy on his shoulder.

"Welcome back," Leader Valcor offered thickly.

There were other faces there, ones he half knew or wasn't certain he could remember their names, but they were all friendly and one stood out to be very familiar. He could feel Neryk's hand in his as they asked, "How do you feel?"

He had to wet his lips before answering. "Like I've lived a third life in a matter of seconds." He frowned, squeezing their hand. "When did you all get here? Where even is here?"

"We're in IPPA's orbital base," Madam Jasmine informed him. "You somehow managed to appear in the middle of it without anyone knowing how or why."

"Jamie and I were here relatively quickly," Leader Valcor added. "For the longest while there, we were the only one that had remembered you and had been keeping an eye on anything that could have been you."

"Whatever had been keeping the rest of us from remembering you lifted not too long ago," Neryk finished. "I only arrived a few minutes ago."

He frowned. There was something he needed to check on but he couldn't quite figure out what. He focused on Madam Jasmine and Leader Valcor. "Any ideas what changed?"

The pair shared a look that made his stomach drop. Madam Jasmine spoke up. "The Professor....we're certain the Professor attempted to repair the cracks in your crystal heart."

Diggory's eyes blew wide and he jerked upright out of everyone's holds. He could see every bit of magic imaginable and, for the briefest moment, he was overwhelmed. "Where's Iro?" he demanded in a panic. His gaze immediately latched onto a faint, fading strand of magic he somehow knew far too intimately for never having seen it before. "Where's-"

The words died at the back of his throat as the fading strand led to a prone body several feet away.

"Iro."

[ArtisticVicu]

Forced Silence
Summary:
No one ever leaves Korm. There are many rumors as to why. A stranger gets unlucky and finds out the truth.
​
Prompt:
The writing theme is music. You can write a song story, just a song, a musical, or just a story revolving around music.

The sun felt like it was burning the skin of his back buried beneath several protective layers of cloth as each step sank into hot sand. The horizon shimmered and quaked, the edge of it reflecting the sky as if there was a lake just beyond the next ridge.

He knew better than to hope that there was water hidden by the mirage.

The sand gave under each step but it was inconsistent and sometimes his footfall would hit solid earth for a step or four. The inconsistency wasn't the easiest thing to deal with but it was certainly better than what he was walking away from. A hot wind curled around him, coaxing him on through the scorching desert. The heat was a strange balm to the numbness that had frozen him far too long ago.

Had it been years or mere hours when it had stopped?

Unlike the stagnant state he seemed to be stuck in, time went on and the world around him continued to spin. The sun crossed to the horizon and dipped beneath it. The icy chill of night swallowed him as his own numbness had and he didn't come back to himself till the sun rose and bore into his back once more, burning what had been burnt the day before.

Would there even be any sign of the sun's presence under the layers he wore or was it all just a press that would vanish the moment he sought shelter from its touch?

Days passed. Weeks passed. Time moved on restrained by nothing and he lost track of it all. By the time he realized he was passing through a city, he couldn't even remember entering it, let alone seeing it in the distance.

He realized the cool touch of shade had woken him from his daze.

Sound assaulted him as the sun once had, reaching in and filling the numbness with something. The market was lively with merchants that had genuine joyous expressions - even if a few looked annoyed in a glance - and people chatting and laughing.

After so long wandering the desert alone, it was overwhelming.

It was too much.

"Are you alright, friend?"

Their voice was sharp in his head, their touch feeling far more like pain than the sun's touch had ever been. He jerked back, his head involuntarily twitching away as he instinctively tried to put distance between him and the sounds.

They're touch didn't leave and the pain slowly faded. "Come, friend. I know a place you can rest."

He was blinded when they dragged him indoors a while later and his sight didn't fully return till the cool wood of a table pressed against his palms, the booth soft around him.

"Here."

A glass clicked against the table in front of his hands and he stared, watching as the glass wept. The stranger tentatively pushed it towards him till it was pressed against the back of his fingers. "Drink, friend. It's water."

He wrapped his hand around the glass and brought it to his lips.

Utter bliss filled his mouth and slid down his throat, soothing an ache he hadn't even know existed. The bliss ebbed when the water ended and he found himself yearning for more. He carefully set the glass against the table, his eyes seeking out his new companion, the one that called him friend.

Their face was kind, open, and they were watching him. A smile came to their lips when he met their gaze. "There you are, friend," his companion spoke softly, as if it was a relief. "For a moment, I thought the desert had taken your soul."

"Korm did."

He choked on those two words as they grated against each other in his throat and on his tongue. That choke turned into a coughing fit and it hurt. Everything hurt.

Another glass was pressed to his lips. Cool water soothed some of the pain speaking had caused him but the bliss hadn't returned.

He felt hollow without it.

"No one escapes Korm's walls," the stranger spoke, their voice slow but wrapping around him like a blanket.

He opened his eyes to find they had moved to sit beside him, blocking him from the rest of the space. It was strange how it soothed and frightened him in equal parts. "I did," he spoke carefully. The words grated against each other. It wasn't pain but it certainly wasn't comfortable. "Anyone can. It's the sands that will kill us before Korm's walls."

The stranger shook their head. "But there's-what proof do you have beyond your word?" The stranger's expression twisted into distress. "They say all in Korm are changed so that there is no desire to leave."

He blinked at the stranger. "That is for those that enter the city - their choice or otherwise. For those of us made within the city, there is no changing. Only our souls lead us on. When those end, we have no more drive. It's why Korm is legend. Those like me never find the strength to step beyond those walls when our soul stops."

The stranger frowned. "Friend, I don't understand. What do you mean by 'made within the city'? Do you mean born? Birthed?" A hesitation. "Or something else."

"Something else."

"And what does it mean for your soul to stop?"

He dropped his gaze as he turned his attention to the buttons and clasps of his garments. They were covered in sand and seemed to have been exposed to sand for far too long. Some things were brittle and fell apart in his hands. There was a part of him that wondered why the stranger said nothing as they stared at him.

In the time since he had walked away from everything he had known, he had done nothing more than keep walking and it showed when he pulled the cloth from his skin. The edging of his soul compartment was tarnished, red and brown streaks from his sweat blending with the tarnish made it seem like the compartment had wept as he walked. He wondered if there was any chance of repair for his soul if the casing looking like this.

He sucked in a breath when the stranger's hand came into view. Their fingers were cold against his chest, sending a shiver down his spine as they traced the compartment's edge. "What is this?"

"My soul compartment," he spoke evenly. "It normally doesn't look quite so bad. I have neglected to take care of myself during my march."

Their fingers retreated as he pressed against the compartment's facing. There was a click, and then a hiss that he took as a good sign. The facing was now less than a quarter of an inch above skin level but it was enough for him to gain purchase and remove it.

The inside still looked pristine and it was a relief to know the seal had held through his neglect. The red and brown crusting around the rim wasn't a good sign though and he idly rubbed the flakes of rust and dried blood away as the stranger stared at the inner workings of a music box in his chest.

"That is your soul?" the stranger asked, their voice coming out breathy and quaking.

He touched it with careful fingers but the motion still caused the drum to roll and a few prongs on the comb twang oddly in the hollow in his chest. He jerked his hand back from it as his entire body seemed to be electrocuted by those few tones. They were hollow, forced, and nothing right about them and he quickly returned the facing. With a press, it clicked back into place. The only sign that there was even a compartment facing there was the red and brown edging he quickly hid.

The stranger's palm pressed against his chest as he worked the buttons of his shirt. "If it spun, would I hear it sing?"

He shook his head. "It is like a heartbeat. Only if you pressed your ear up to my chest."

"Does the song ever change?"

"It will ebb and flow with life as we follow its sound but its heart never changes. At least, not willingly."

"Why?"

He swallowed against the nausea. "It goes against who we are to change out the drum for another's. The song is our soul, our guiding force. What good would it do us to follow another's?"

"That's why your soul stopped, then - why you left Korm." He frowned at them but they kept going. "They changed the drum in your chest."

He flinched. "That would have been far easier to deal with than losing the heart of my song."

The stranger frowned at him but he didn't need them to understand. He had lost everything in Korm and his soul stopping was far more a blessing than a death sentence. At least this way he wouldn't be reminded of what he no longer had and desperately desired for.

[ArtisticVicu]

July 2018
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Catching up on past prompts.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

The schoolyard was full of children laughing and screaming. A glance would see nothing more than happy children but a keen eye or someone that had once been part of the outskirts would be able to pick out the kids that were faking it, the ones that didn't have friends, the ones that were ostracized by their own age group.

He hit the pavement hard. The unforgiving surface bit into his arms and hands, his body instinctively reacting by filling his vision with tears and quaking under the onslaught of pain. The small gaggle of kids that had slammed into him - or, more specifically, the gaggle of kids following the brute that had shoved him to the ground for no other reason than a laugh - seemed to swarm behind his aggressor, laughing and cooing words that stung. He blinked back what tears he could but there were too many in his eyes and they escaped without his permission as he glared up at all of them.

"Crybaby! Crybaby!" the gaggle chanted, the aggressor's grin growing broader and broader.

Said aggressor took a few steps forward and leaned forward. "Aw, what's wrong, Newman? Trip over your own shoelaces?" The gale of laughter ebbed with the gaggle. Not a single face held guilt or sympathy. There was no one coming to aid him. "Don't you know how to tie those?" His aggressor straightened, looking back at the gaggle. "Oh, that's right. You never had anyone to show you how."

It felt like his insides were on fire with the desire to hurt but he knew that he couldn't do that again. Tears still streaming down his face, he shoved himself back up to his feet as the gaggle walked away.

He planted his feet as Unna had taught him to and balled his fists. The pain from his hands got worse and he used it as the reminder he needed.

"Hey Beckett!" The gaggle stopped but didn't still. His aggressor was the only one stagnant as their eyes met. He knew he shouldn't push but he was sick and tired of being thrown around like some rag doll.

"At least someone back home loves me!"

Something dark flickered across the other's face and the gaggle became a threatening shadow behind Beckett. It was all he could do to swallow down the bitter taste of regret.

He blinked, sucking in a breath. It hurt as it stuttered in his chest as he watched the gaggle walk away. Fighting through the scratching in his chest, he tried again.

"Hey Beckett!" The gaggle stopped but didn't still. His aggressor was the only one stagnant as their eyes met. He blinked, testing the words before letting them go.

"Unna's making spaghetti," tumbled past his lips. "There's always leftovers so there's plenty for you to have some if you want to come over. Unna also just got me a new basketball hoop. I don't have a new ball like you but I have one we could use."

The gaggle was still swarming behind his aggressor but it had become sedated, unsure.

Beckett stared at him.

He shrugged. His arms throbbed. "If you want to come, Unna picks me up at the back corner of the parking lot."

"I know," Beckett spat but the trill of it sounded off.

He turned and started for the nurse's office.

Someone was standing in his designated pickup spot and he had to force his feet to keep a steady beat against the cement. There, standing in his spot, was Beckett and the other looked strange without the gaggle of kids following behind.

Anxiety bit into his chest as hard as any repercussion.

Beckett jumped when he settled at their side. "Unna's almost here. I can see the car from here."

Beckett's gaze naturally followed his to the line of cars entering the school parking lot for kid pickup. A sedan in decent condition and in a desperate need of a bath broke away from the flow of traffic and started for them. It came to a stop at the curb and he walked over to the trunk as the hood popped. "You can toss your bag in here," he offered as he did just that.

He left Beckett to decide as he opened the back door and clambered in, announcing, "Beckett's coming over, if that's still ok."

His Unna looked to him before glancing to Beckett out the back window as the other kid closed the trunk. "Did they get permission from their parents?"

He shrugged. Beckett started to climb in as he turned to ask. "Did you ask if you could come?"

Beckett froze.

He frowned and blinked. He fought the urge to gasp for breath as a sedan in decent condition and in a desperate need of a bath came to a stop at the curb. He walked over to the trunk as the hood popped, offering, "You can toss your bag in here with mine, if you want."

He dropped his bag into the awaiting compartment and took a step to the side. Beckett only seemed to hesitate for a moment before their bag joined his and he closed the trunk with a resounding thud.

"Unna's gonna want to know if you have permission to come over," he gently warned as he walked to the door. Beckett followed but didn't say anything.

He opened the back door and slid in, scooting over so that Beckett could follow. "Hi, Unna. This is Beckett Parker."

Unna shifted in the driver's seat enough to meet Beckett's gaze. "Hello, Beckett. I'm Angel, Jamie's Unna. How long will you be staying with us?"

Beckett shook their head. "My parents work late so I just have to be home by dark."

"Will you need a ride?"

Beckett shook their head again.

Unna's sharp gaze turned on him and if his chest hadn't already been hurting, it would have constricted in fear. "We will talk when we get home."

He should have known better than to think his Unna wouldn't have noticed.

The drive was quiet, barring the low music from the radio. The sun was warm through the back window but he barely noticed. It was all he could do to keep his breathing as normal as he could get away with as his heart seemed to be attempting an escape through his rib cage.

"Hey, Newman," Beckett whispered. "You ok?"

Apparently not normal enough. He caught Unna glancing his way through the rear view mirror. "Yeah, why?" he tried.

"Your breathing kind of funny."

The car stilled as the red light shone through the front window over the car ahead of them. A smile big and fake plastered itself on his face. "I'm fine. Was seeing how long I could hold my breath to pass the time."

Beckett didn't believe him.

He didn't get the chance to try and convince them.

Someone's horn suddenly blared to life and he brought his head around in time to see a car speed into the intersection from the opposite direction.

There was no time for the big rig driver to hit the breaks.

He sucked in a breath as the car was sent into the one in front of them and the semi came careening towards them.

His chest was on fire. He curled in on himself as deep, bone wrenching coughs tore at the air he couldn't get enough of.

A sedan in decent condition and in a desperate need of a bath came to a stop at the curb.

"James," curled around him as a soft touch passed through his hair. It probably wasn't the first time it had done that as it did it again. "Breathe."

He sucked in a rattling breath. It came out as a cough, too.

"Again."

He sucked in another breath. This time his lungs filled with it without rejecting it and he let the air out in a rush only to suck more in greedily.

"That's it." A sob choked him. "That's my good boy."

"Unna," he wailed. "Unna, I couldn't-I didn’t- I didn't mean to. Unna, I'm sorry."

Unna's arms tightened around him. "It's ok. You did the right thing. It'll be alright."

"Miss…ah, Miss Angel?" It was Beckett's voice. "What just happened?"

He felt his Unna shift around him but the arms holding him tight didn't let go. "Once we're in the car. He's done it too many times too close together for it to be safe. Don't worry, I won't take you home till you have what answers we can share."

There was silence for long enough that he thought Beckett had followed Unna's soft spoken command but then Beckett's voice drifted to him again. "Will he be ok?"

He felt the faint chuckle that rolled through Unna's chest. "As long as he doesn't do it again, yes. Now," Unna grunted as he was pulled off the ground; he tried to hide the spasm of pain shooting through his chest from the motion, "if you would be so kind as to grab his bag for me, I'll get him in the car and us on our way."

Unna placed him carefully in his seat but he still hissed in pain as he was placed and buckled in.

Unna's hand was steady in his hair. "Just a bit longer, James."

He nodded against the touch.

The car shifted into drive with ease. It was several minutes later when he realized they were going the same route. Panic flared in his chest even as his mind screamed at him that Unna knew.

"Unna," he choked out as Beckett exclaimed to his utter surprise, "We can't go this way!"

He looked over, eyes wide despite how his chest hurt to find Beckett gripping at both front seats with white knuckles.

Unna looked to the other child as the car came to a stop at red light. A different one from the one they had been caught at prior, one far sooner than that one. "It'll be ok, Beckett. James has delayed us enough. We won't get caught in it again."

Beckett stared at his Unna with terror edged into their face. Beckett swallowed thickly, glancing at him briefly before asking, "How….why do I…"

Whatever Beckett had wanted to ask died on their tongue. He wondered if it was for a loss of words or too many questions to ask at once.

The light turned green and Beckett sat back as the car started forward.

"Beckett," Unna spoke, voice even but thick with warning, "what I am about to share with you must not leave this car. If you speak to anyone that I have not told you knows, there will be consequences that I cannot protect you from." Unna met Beckett's gaze through the rear view mirror. "Do you understand?"

Beckett's gaze flickered to him but he had nothing to offer.

It had been a long time since his chest had hurt like this.

Why didn't he learn?

"Yes," Beckett replied, voice quaking.

"Good." The car slowed as the traffic thickened to a stop. "Do you know what happened to us?"

Beckett shifted in the seat. "We went back in time?"

Unna smiled encouragingly. "Similar, but not quite. James rewinds time, or resets it to a point. He's gotten better at controlling when to he resets but sometimes he doesn't have much choice." Unna's gaze flickered to him in the rear view mirror. "Often he keeps it to only a few seconds, maybe a minute. Any longer than that and it puts a strain on his body. Or, more specifically, his heart."

"Why his heart?" Beckett cut in.

"We're not sure," he explained, sinking back into his seat a bit more. The pain was slowly ebbing. That or he was getting used to it. He wasn't overly picky. "They think it has something to do with how the ability is stored in my body or that it could be some natural limiter that keeps me in check."

Beckett's attention went to Unna. "Do you have the same ability?"

The smile that pulled at Unna's lips was endearing and a bit sad. "No. I have a different ability but it isn't very useful when it comes to helping James."

"What is it?"

"Remembering."

Beckett frowned. "I don't understand."

Unna's expression turned thoughtful despite the expectant look in the gaze locked onto Beckett. "Do you remember the reset?"

Beckett opened their mouth but no words were forthcoming. He leaned his head back, expecting that. There were echoes if the ending point of the last reset was severe enough, but the only one that had ever remembered was Unna.

"Can you teach me how?"

He opened his eyes, looking at Beckett's determined face.

"Why?" Unna asked, curious; he parroted, confused.

Beckett looked at him. "Because I want to help."

"Can you see them?"

He pressed a hand over the earpiece to hear better. "Yeah," he confirmed. "Only two and the target, though."

"Anything you can do?"

"Not till you go in, like normal," he drawled, amused.

A huff from the other end but there was a touch of amusement in it. "Fine. Just don't let me get killed in there."

"Yeah, yeah," he assured them, even as those words jabbed at old wounds.

He watched his partner dash in, showboating like none other. One of the extras went down but the other and the target were very good at holding their own.

"Resetting," he warned.

He didn't wait for a confirmation as he blinked, taking in a breath as he reoriented.

"Who do I take out first?"

It eased the slight tension in his chest when their words were nothing like they had been. Every time he reset, he feared he would lose the one person that could remember. "The one on the far side. Move in, move quick. Don't showboat. It does you no good."

"Understood."

He watched and waited. Sure enough, later than before, his partner appeared dropping down on the one extra that had kept up with the initial attack. His partner's attack was solid, knocking the extra out cold.

"Target," he barked. "We'll play Hopscotch with the other."

"Don't kill me."

Heavy words spoken out of true concern despite their full trust in him made his heart hurt. "Just remember and I won't," he retorted, offering with it silently how much he meant that.

His partner went in for the target but again, the target held its own. The still conscious extra did its best to get in the way but he did mini resets, a second here, two there, each enough to give his partner enough time to adjust to what was coming and use it against the extra.

He caught sight of the blade before it buried itself in his partner's side.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

"I'm ok," crackled into his earpiece and he let the breath go.

"Are you sure?" he asked, heart racing.

"You reset. I'm fine." A pause. "Target first?"

He nodded despite them not being able to see. "Target first."

This time when his partner dropped in, the target was out cold first.

The other two were taken out just as quickly.

He leapt from his hiding spot and felt their arms around him before gravity even had a hold on him. Solid ground met the bottom of his feet and they grabbed at his wrist, pressing his palm against their side where they had been stabbed. "See? No stab wound."

The words were echoed in his earpiece but he was used to it. He nodded, smiling weakly. "I'm going to get you killed one of these days."

They barked a laugh. "Only after I drag you down with me. Besides, it'll take a lot more than that to stop me. Can't stop, won't stop, not till you're no longer there to watch my back."

"And you've got mine?"

They huffed a laugh. "Always, Newman," they teased. "Now come on. We've got to bag these guys before reinforcements show up."

He followed after them.

"Wow."

He looked up from the file he was reading, intrigued. "What?"

His partner looked over at him from the wall calendar they were staring at. "Can you believe it's been 16 years now?"

He frowned, putting the file down. "16 years since…" he prompted.

"Since the truck incident all those years ago," they explained. "With your Unna."

He blinked.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it has, hasn't it?" he commented. He was stunned in all honesty. He hadn't kept track of time very well. His ability always did make keeping track of time weird. "And that was, what, only a few years before your ability showed?"

His partner hummed an affirmation. "I still don't know how Anna was so patient with me. I was worse than the rookies."

"Unna's always had a strange sort of patience," he agreed. "Still, I'm glad you agreed to come to my house that day, Beckett." He looked at the other, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "I'm not sure I would have made it this far without you."

Beckett grinned at him, all teeth despite the care in their gaze. "Oh please. You'd have lived till you were 100 even if I had walked away."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. If you say so."

He led the way back into the main area of the hero headquarters they were stationed with. Heroes of all sorts milled about or passed through to complete some task. He gave none of them much heed as he made his way to the front door.

He couldn’t quite grasp why there was a ringing in his ears.

Smoke choked him. That was the first thing he realized when he started to re-orientate himself with the world. When his brain started making sense of what he could see, terror flared through him just as much as his apprehension started to quickly spiral into anxiety.

"Beckett!" he called out, choking on the name. "Beckett!"

There was screaming, shouting, sirens. There was so much going on that he couldn't even piece together what had even happened. But he found Beckett.

It felt like his heart stopped.

"Beckett!" he screamed, rushing to their side. His ability was like needles under his skin but he knew that resetting without knowing wasn't going to help. So, instead, he started figuring out what he could do.

It was easy finding what to move first so that Beckett didn't end up more crushed as he removed rubble from on top of them. It only got harder when the villain appeared.

"It would seem I've found another little hero."

The voice shot ice down his spine and he whipped around, coming face to face with someone he hadn't thought to still be alive.

The villain's grin grew sharp. "And it seems I'm in luck. I've been looking for you, my little Save Point."

"Eros," he spat. "What are you doing here, alive?"

The villain spread his arms wide, the grin looking as if it would split the other's face. "You wound me, Jamie! I came to check on how my little boy was doing, to see how well my little Save Point has grown."

"I'm not your save point," he snarled.

Eros's fingers were digging into his cheeks before he could blink, hand pressed to the underside of his jaw and forcing his head back. "Oh, you have it all wrong, little Jamie-boy. You are my Save Point and you will do as I say if you want the world to survive."

"You won't remember anything I do," he bluffed. He didn't know that. He didn't know this man.

"Oh, but you're wrong," Eros assured him, and suddenly pain flared in his side. "I remember every." The pain intensified. "Little." Again. "Reset." And again. "And now you're going to reset us right back to the day you escaped my grasp the first time."

He gasped, trying to hold onto what was going on as the pain tried to take over. "What do you mean?"

"Had you not reset, I would have ended your precious Unna's life and taken you back into custody. But you just had to see the car speed through that blasted intersection," the pain suddenly tripled to emphasis the words, "and the damn truck heading your way. If I had just been a few minutes faster," another burst of pain, "then it would have worked."

They had just been talking about it, hadn't they? He and Beckett. How was it that they had managed to be talking about that day, of all days, and here he was facing his father who had wanted to use his abilities since he was born. He felt his ability churn under his skin and he wondered just how far back he could throw them, how far back his reset could reach.

Eros was still talking but he wasn't listening any more. Farther and farther he reached as he felt his life slowly drain from his side. Farther and farther he pushed, pushing back to that faithful day.

He was glad he had met Beckett.

He hoped Unna would forgive him in time.

He opened his eyes.

The unforgiving surface bit into his arms and hands, his body instinctively reacting by filling his vision with tears and quaking under the onslaught of pain. The small gaggle of kids that had slammed into him - or, more specifically, the gaggle of kids following the brute that had shoved him to the ground for no other reason than a laugh - seemed to swarm behind his aggressor, laughing and cooing words that had once stung. Numb to it all, he looked up, searching for a specific face from the crowd before him.

"Crybaby! Crybaby!" the gaggle chanted.

His aggressor wasn't grinning.

"I…Jamie?" Beckett spoke out, confusion and disbelief heavy with those two words. The gaggle fell silent and still.

He offered a weak smile. "I'm sorry Beckett. It was the only thing I could think of."

"Jamie, I don't-" They shook their head, taking a step forward. "How? Why?!"

"Eros."

Beckett hissed.

"Beckett." They met his gaze, their worry for him almost palpable. "Will you tell Unna that I'm sorry?"

Whatever color had filled Beckett's face slipped away as that sank it. Tears filled those eyes he had grown so accustom to seeing joyous, mischievous, that it made his heart hurt. "James, don't."

He offered a tight smile. "This way, he can't win."

"Jamie, please!"

"You'll tell Unna for me, won't you?"

They were there, arms wrapped tight around him, and the world jerked in a way that he had long since grown used to. How Beckett had the finite control to get them safely to Unna's side was breathtaking. He was sad he was going to miss out on that.

He looked up, not used to being in an eight-year-old's body after having grown out of it. He found his Unna there, alive and well, mouth covered by a shaking hand and tears streaming down a face he hadn't realized he had forgotten details of despite the photos he had kept.

"Unna," he started.

There was no pain. His threshold had grown to the point that pain only came in small amounts now. This, though, was like something snapped within him.

The last thing he saw was Unna and Beckett crying over him as he was swallowed by darkness.
The group hit the edge of the Moonwoods as the bright morning sun greeted the new day, their tail already long gone somewhere to the east. Even now there was hesitation on whether to push forward or to follow after the elves.

His boots hit the earth with a solid thud even as the other human ranger called out, "So we just letting them go?"

"It's not like there's anything else we can do," ground out the halfling checking the donkeys. "They're out of range to be of any bother anyways."

"I could try catching up," the young dragonborn spoke up. A number of the company reacted with sedated hostility but hostility nonetheless. He didn't like it and it seemed the third ranger of the company agreed, quickly interjecting, "I can go with."

"Are you sure, Dooooo?"

He looked from the third ranger to the older of the two dwarves in terms of being with the company who was also one of the leaders of the Rough and Tough Bunch, Opal. He looked back to see a determined expression on the other ranger's face. "It's best if we don't let each other wander off without a partner." Dooooo looked to the second dwarf, the second newest company member followed only by the dragonborn. "The dragonborn is your friend. Do you want to join us?"

Sam watched as even the newest dwarf distanced himself from the dragonborn. Guilt and regret churned in his gut, a sharp reminder that he wasn't doing anything to help the dragonborn feel more welcomed.

Before the dragonborn joined the company at the edge of their last city, and before the dwarf stuck with them after they had helped free a dragon from storm giants, Sam had been the newest member of the Rough and Tough Bunch. Despite the awkwardness of being half forced into the company due to the circumstances at the time, everyone had been rather welcoming, if not tolerant of his presence. In turn, he had come to enjoy all their company; even the odd half orc that worshiped yams and her feline friend who - from the brief words others had shared and the many things he had witnessed since - had a tongue that regularly got more than just the feline in trouble were decent folk. Odd, but decent. And after all the battles since, he had thought he had gained the group's trust, the three that led the company even listening to his words at times recently.

For whatever reason, this dragonborn gained ire from the majority and while the dragonborn was crude and clearly inexperienced, he didn't think it warranted so much hatred.

It was hard to tell if the dragonborn was even affected by it.

Dooooo shrugged. Before the pair could leave, the half orc walked over. Sam looked away as she touched Dooooo shoulder and assumed she was giving the ranger well wishes in her own way. He turned to the other human ranger who was currently staring at the cart.

"I don't think that's going to go far if we're not using a road," Jun voiced, stepping away from the donkeys.

Falcor shrugged. "I say it's worth a try, if nothing else."

"We will pull the cart into the treeline to keep it out of site but I agree with Jun," Opal spoke up. "The cart will only slow us down. Besides, we have four donkeys. They will be able to carry everything that we cannot. It will be fine."

Falcor made a face but ceded. Despite the three being the leaders, it was generally Opal's word that led them on. If Opal wasn't there, then it was Jun. Only once had it been left to Falcor to lead the company when both Jun and Opal were unavailable to lead.

It hadn't gone overly well but no one had died so there was that.

The two groups parted ways, the duo heading east along the treeline and the remaining company continuing north into the forest.

"Do you want us to lead?" Falcor spoke up over the noise of emptying the cart, unhitching the donkeys, and securing packs and items to the beasts' backs. Sam looked up first to Falcor before glancing around. It seemed odd he was startled by the thought that Falcor was talking about him. It hadn't been hard to figure out what and why the other ranger was offering. They were both familiar and quite comfortable traveling through forests. It would be easiest to keep them all on track.

Opal's gaze flickered to Sam and he found himself straightening. "If you are comfortable with it."

"Of course."

The company shifted around the donkeys, situating into a line even though they weren't quite ready to start moving again. Falcor had moved a few steps away and Sam approached carefully. He knew that look.

"Feel anything?" he inquired softly, not wanting to interrupt before Falcor was finished searching.

Falcor let out a sharp breath. "If there's an elemental out there, it's beyond my range." Falcor shot him a cocky grin. "Wanna give it a go?"

Sam smiled but shook his head. "If you can't sense anything, I doubt I'll have any luck. That skill isn't something one can get better than others at."

Falcor laughed. "Fair. Want to take point, then?"

Sam blinked at him. "You don't want to?"

Falcor shrugged. "I know you keep to yourself because you don't feel like one of the group but we trust you to hold your own." Falcor's gaze went over the group, specifically to the new dwarf and the feline. "More so than others." Falcor grinned at him. "Don't worry. I'll join back up with you when the trees get denser. I just want to help make sure the line keeps moving in the right direction."

Sam let out a huff of a laugh. "Have fun babysitting, then."

"Don't pity me quite yet," Falcor retorted, pointing a finger at Sam even as the other Ranger was already starting towards the back of the line. "You'll be next on babysitting duty soon enough."

Sam grinned in return. "I look forward to it."

Falcor laughed even as he threw his hand in the air as he left. Sam watched the other's progress for a while before turning his attention back to the forest and letting it wander around them. There was an edge to it that he didn't trust but he wanted to bet that had more to do with the unnamed threat they were going up against. Or, well, as unnamed as a zaratan was.

Sam couldn't help but feel like he was out of his element in this, pun notwithstanding. He could handle a fight with any sort of beast. Heck, he had just managed to survive going up against a number of storm and cloud giants, not to mention any other assortment of creature. But the only elemental he had ever had to attend with were the wind ones that had attacked them previously and he had only been so useful with that. Even the bow and arrows currently strapped to his back felt like a weight he was slowly collapsing under. What kind of Ranger couldn't hit a target to save a life?

Opal nodded at him and he turned, leading the way.

The trees took some time thickening that by the time Falcor joined him, it was already almost midday. Sam looked to the other as he stepped over a massive root. "You try seeing if there was anything around us again?"

"There's....something out there. An elemental, I think, but it's just at the edge of my range."

Sam nodded. "And the others? They holding up well enough?"

Falcor chuckled. "There's a few complaints from a few but, beyond that, they're doing just fine." Falcor fell silent for a moment. "How deep do you think we'll manage to get before we find any sort of sign of our target?"

Sam looked north. "If we're lucky, soon. But it's more likely we'll not find anything even if we make it to the heart of the forest."

"You don't trust the Princes?"

Sam shrugged. "I wasn't there for your last bet and I don't know if they were lying or not. For all I know, they could be, but it seems silly to stake that much money on a....a legend. There's something out here, sure, but I don't think they told us what it was on purpose."

Falcor opened his mouth but didn't get the chance to say anything. Sam caught sight of it the same time Falcor did and they both lept back as an arrow embedded itself into the earth before the footprints they had just vacated. A warning shot as the trees around them came alive with elves.

He didn't recognize the type of elves.

He really ought to have.

"You are trespassing," one of the leading elves decreed.

"We weren't meaning to," Falcor tried.

"We are simply passing through," Opal quickly added.

Jun spoke up as well. "We'll be on our way if you can-"

"You say you are not trespassing yet you stray far from the road," a different elf chastised.

"Turn around," another warned. "You won't live if you fight us."

That sent up an uproar first from the company quickly followed by the elves. Sam lost track of any of the words that were being spoken but the sudden desire to try and get the elves to understand before the entire company up and got itself killed drove him forward.

He grabbed Falcor's shoulder but it was a reflex driven on by something he couldn't pick apart. Had he wanted to ground himself or calm Falcor down? He took a step forward as the fleeting question left. "Please," he spoke out, his voice heavy with sincerity and concern. "We did not mean to trespass. If you would just guide us around your border, we will happily be on our way in search for a creature that may be doing more harm than good in this forest."

His words hung in the air and it was all he could do to suck in the shaky breath that filled his body. His gaze flickered over the elves but not a one of them moved.

A body fell from the trees above and landed beside him with a solid thud on sure feet. He jumped, taking a startled few steps back. He felt Falcor jump under his touch but seemed far more solid than Sam felt. The elf straightened and Sam watched as she gestured towards the east. He turned his head towards the direction but did not remove his gaze from her face. She turned and started walking.

The company fell into step behind her. Falcor's shoulder slipped from his touch and he focused back on those that had stopped them. He dipped his head in a brief gesture of thanks before following after the elf himself.

"So, you have a name?" drifted back towards him in Falcor's voice.

"Yevanith."

Sam found her gaze on him when he settled a few paces behind her left shoulder. Her footfall slowed and he soon found himself level with her. "You said you were not intending to trespass." Her gaze moved to Falcor before drifting to Opal and Jun not far behind. "That you are looking for the zaratan."

"We are," Sam assured her.

Falcor took over. "We had heard it was causing trouble in the surrounding area and decided to see if there was anything we could do to help."

"Have you heard of such a creature causing havoc?" Opal asked. Sam couldn't tell if the way the dwarf's words rolled were a show of mere caution or distrust.

"Yes. And I can take you to it."

"What?" Sam blurted at the same time Falcor nearly cheered, "Seriously?"

Yevanith gave Falcor a rather flat look. "It is not hard to find when one has been tracking it for some time."

"You specifically, or your people?" Sam clarified cautiously. The sharpness to her words made him hesitant, as if he could cause all their murders if he did not tread carefully here.

But when she looked at him, there was no such severity and it eased some of his hesitation. "A combination." Her gaze snapped forward. "I have a vendetta against the creature and the village watches to make sure what has happened before does not happen again."

"It attacked your village."

Her gaze - sharp, hunting - slid his way but he didn't back down. He met her gaze head on and waited. "It has destroyed many a village out in this forest. It is best if we keep it from doing more damage."

She put distance between them. Sam let her, catching Falcor's sleeve to keep the other ranger from stirring a pot that needed to be left alone.

"We need to know more," Falcor hissed.

"And we'll get the information we need," Sam countered just as hushed, "but right now we need to not piss off the only lead we have if you want to win your stupid bet."

"I do not know how much of this is still because of that bet," Opal offered gruffly, lowly. "With the way those warriors had reacted, I would not say that had been a normal elven greeting."

Jun swayed his way up to Opal's other side, asking, "So we take the thing out, one way or the other?"

Opal's gaze hardened. "There is no real knowledge around the zaratan - if that is what this is - that we were able to find. If it magic like we are assuming it is…"

"Then we'll need to take out the caster," Falcor finished. Sam met his gaze. "We have to ask her."

Sam nodded. "I agree, but it can wait a few minutes."

"Just not too long, Sam," Opal warned. "We need to know before we go jumping in."

That stole a chuckle out of Sam's chest. "When has the Rough and Tough Bunch not dived in without knowing? I thought that was how we ended up on that floating fortress."

Falcor pointed an accusing finger at him. "Hey, I did my best to be cordial. They shot first."

Sam threw his hands up, grinning despite the earnest gesture. "I wasn't there, remember? I was in the bowels of the ship when the first attack ripped through the balloon. And after watching you fail at setting up a bet we really didn't need to get into, I can't help but feel justified in my thoughts."

Falcor made a swing at him and he ducked laughing. Jun's roaring laughter filled the air just as well as Opal's low rumble of a chuckle.

Whether intentional or not, Falcor's actions had separated the majority of the group from Yevanith and had forced Sam closer. Amused, Sam fell back into step just a few paces behind the elf's left shoulder.

The group's chatter paces back rolled with the sounds of the forest creating a soothing atmosphere despite the severity of the situation the company was in.

"Are they always this boisterous in such serious situations?"

He looked up at Yevanith to find her giving the company a displeased look. "The overall situation may be serious but is this moment?" Her eyes were on him again. "Isn't it far healthier for them to pass the time loose and happy before they push themselves beyond their limits going up against a creature we know nothing about taking out?"

There was a moment where she just stared at him like he had spoken gibberish and maybe he had. Maybe they all were far too relaxed in the face of reality but there was a part of him determined to give them this moment of joy before they all faced Death again. They all knew that Death was waiting for someone going in. It was the risk they all took doing this.

"You all are strange," Yevanith finally stated, focusing back on the woods ahead.

Sam couldn't help the chuckle that belayed his words. "Never said we weren't."

There was brief burst of noise from the back of the group but it hadn't sounded worrisome. More like the troublemakers being true to their nature.

"You do not have to walk behind me, ranger. The path is not that narrow."

His gaze flickered towards her expecting her eyes on him again but she was focused on the route ahead. He hoped 'path' was being used loosely because he couldn't see whatever path she did. Still, he did make an effort to get closer to her side as she slowed a breath. "I don't mind following behind you, Yevanith."

This time her gaze did find him but there seemed to be amusement at the edge of the sharp look. "You are far more tolerable than the others seem to be."

Sam chuckled softly at that. "Falcor means well. The other ranger," he clarified. "The other two leaders of the group, Opal and Jun, have better people skills."

"You are not one of the leaders?" He shook his head in answer and she turned her gaze back to the trees ahead. "Strange. With how you had spoken, many thought you led them."

Sam beamed at that. "As flattering as that is, I'm not actually officially part of the company, though they would say otherwise, probably, at this point."

"What do you mean?"

He let his gaze wander over the surrounding trees. "I got swept up in their adventure because I didn't have much of a choice. A mix-up with some race and I ended up in the same cell they had been and it had only been because I had agreed to go with them to complete a favor for our captors was I able to walk away with my life and my freedom."

"Why didn't you walk away?"

That pulled a smile to his lips. "Where else would I have gone? I have no home to return to and my ending up in that cell had not been my choice. At least, not completely."

Silence stretched between them.

"Yevanith, why are you helping us?"

Yevanith's expression twisted but he couldn't decipher it. "I have my own reasons."

"Your vendetta."

It wasn't a question and she gave no answer.

"Family specifically?" he asked cautiously.

"My whole village."

Sam felt that weigh on his heart and the words were on his tongue before he could think otherwise. "I can't guarantee you'll come back alive from this but you are welcome to join us in this battle."

She scoffed but a glance her way revealed the smirk pulling at her lips. "As if you have any say on whether I do or don't."

He gave a huff of a laugh.

It wasn't till most of the hour had passed before the terrain abruptly changed. The group spilled out into a path somewhere around twenty feet wide full of felled trees. It was clear to see what direction the destruction was heading and it was even easier to find the footprints in among the wreckage.

Falcor hissed. "This thing is massive."

Sam gave a hum in agreement. There was no telling how powerful this creature was going to be and the implication by its size was daunting.

"Do we keep going?" the half-orc asked, wandering in the direction the creature had gone.

"We'll keep going till night falls," Opal stated. The dwarf looked at Falcor. "Unless you think it'll outstrip us in the night."

Falcor shook his head. "Whatever elemental of sorts I'm sensing, it's not moving very quickly. Even if we did rest through the night, I don't think it would be impossible to catch up."

Opal nodded. "Then let us keep moving."

Evening came faster than Sam had expected and the call to camp rang out from Opal. The group scattered a bit in a given area at the left edge of the trail. Sam hovered near Falcor as the other took note of the creature's place, watching as the half-orc went about starting a fire.

The look Yevanith sent her was certainly a dark one. Their confrontation was too muted for Sam to make out what had transpired but, by the looks of the half-orc grudgingly wandering over to the feline and the newest dwarf, Sam would bet it had been about not starting a fire in the woods.

"Seems the thing's settled for the night as well," Falcor commented, letting out a heavy sigh.

Sam focused back on him. "I'm assuming that's a good thing," he teased.

Falcor huffed a laugh. "I'm going to bed. You coming with?"

Sam shook his head. "I'll take first watch."

"Suit yourself."

Sam stayed where Falcor had left him taking in the others settling in to rest. At the other edge of the group, Opal had settled in but it looked as if the dwarf was going to be joining him on first watch. He dipped his head towards the other when the dwarf looked his way and Opal returned the gesture in acknowledgment.

He had seen her go up the tree but it was hard to pick out where she had gone in among the branches. He sat against its trunk anyways, settling in for the first few hours of watch.

It was probably a half hour later before he was certain those that were resting were sound asleep. The elf, though, he had picked out in among the branches finally. She was just as alert as he and Opal were and there was some comfort knowing she was on watch too.

"Are you truly avenging just your village?" he asked, letting the gentle wind carry his soft words to her. "Or did it take someone dear to you."

She moved in the tree before dropping down with a soft thump, settling into the squat she had landed in. Her expression was not kind. "You can be a nosy one."

Sam shrugged. "I just want to be prepared for you losing your composure because this is more than just avenging your village and the others it has taken. As personal as that can be, or justified, doing it because the creature took a loved one is far more dangerous."

The elf studied him; for what, he didn't know. Whether or not she had found what she had been looking for, though, seemed to be enough for her to plop down on the dirt beside him, leaning against the large tree.

"You said that you had no home to go back to. Why?"

Sam leaned his head back against the trunk searching for stars through the swaying branches. "It's a long story," he warned, though a smile pulled at his lips. "And a rather personal one. You sure you want to hear the woes of a lowly human stranger?"

"I have found that you humans are all too eager to spill your secrets," the elf drawled, waving a hand dismissively. He chuckled at that, agreeing with her. A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before she broke it with, "We have nothing but time."

He hummed.

"I grew up in a small farming town. There was probably only 60 people within a good five miles of the center of town and the only exciting things that ever happened while I was growing up were the trades carts that would come through and the occasional adventurer. We weren't on any major routes so the fewer adventurers we saw we believed was for the better. Outside of that, the only other thing that ever stirred up any excitement was the Guard.

"They're trained how to be rangers but some will cross specialize in other areas of knowledge and others are encourage to. The Guard was stretched in among the towns like mine where we had no warriors or trained civilians that knew how to deal with the more fowl of adventurers or beasts that come knocking. Farmers know how to keep wolves and the like that will kill our livestock and eat our harvest, but when those things come in numbers we can no longer handle on our own, or become things too big for a simple farmer to take down, the Guard come to aid us."

A smile, warm and content, pulled at his lips. "For me, I enjoyed farm life. I hadn't had any real desire to join the Guard like my older brother did. He hated farm work and constantly talked about going on grand quests with the Guard to protect the town and others like ours. He talked about seeing the world and going where no one in our small little town had ever gone." He laughed. "He would practice sword fighting - with no training, mind you – against a bale of hay and a stick that would always end up breaking when he got too aggressive with it.

"So when the Guard came through recruiting, my brother's name was at the top of the list." Something heavy tainted the joy in his expression and he let his gaze fall from the leaves above. "I had entertained the idea of joining the Guard myself. Heck, every boy and a number of the girls under the age of 10 did at some point, but I had been the one more down to earth compared to my brother. I knew that I would be in charge of taking over the farm when our dad got too old to do the work anymore and I would have to take care of our sisters should anything happen to our parents or the farm itself. I was content with that."

The words stalled out. The weight of it all pressed against his chest and weighed down his tongue.

"But that wasn't what you got to do," Yevanith prompted, her words brushing up against that weight and easing a part of it.

"Yeah," he sighed. He shifted against the trunk, bringing a knee up. "My parents had signed me up as a sort of birthday gift. My mom had talked about all the great opportunities this would open up for me, how I would be able to do so much more, but I had fought them. I wanted to stay home, to take care of the farm. I didn’t understand why they had gone and done that."

His tongue fell still against the press of the memories that still stung years later despite how much he cherished them. "My dad finally pulled me aside, sat me down, and had a long talk with me. He told me how he didn't want me tied to the farm despite my desire to stay behind and take over. He spoke of how I could always come back once I was trained and ranked, how the town would welcome me with open arms and I could take over the farm then. My sisters were all willing to take over till I got back. Besides, he had said as a last attempt, it will only be a few years and before you know it, you'll be back here tilling the earth like you've done since the day you could walk.

"A part of me still wishes I had continued to fight them on the matter, that I had convinced them to let me stay."

"Why?" He glanced over even as her words did not stop there. "What happened?"

A sad smile tugged at his lips. "The town was attacked while I was in training." He turned his gaze back to the trampled forest before them. "We were maybe three months away from graduating the Guard's training academy when one of the higher ups came in and told us the news. They sent us after the relief efforts, whether to help or just to check in on our family, I can't remember."

He caught her moving out of the corner of his eye but whatever she was doing stopped as his words continued. "It was devastating coming back to a town I had grown up in, remembered seeing whole and healthy, be completely ravaged by some unknown entity leaving nothing but ash and smoke in its wake. Our dad had died in the initial attack and our littlest sister succumbed to the wounds she had sustained, but the others had lived. Mom and our two remaining sisters were scarred mentally and physically but they were alive and as healthy as they could be after all that. I was relieved - happy, even - but my brother grew angry, grew brash. I tried talking him down but he was having none of it. It was at the request of our mom that I stayed with him keeping an eye on him as he went head first seeking revenge.

"He ditched the Guard as soon as we had graduated. I'm not sure why he waited those few months. He never told me much of what was going on inside his head, simply giving me enough information to know he was planning something stupid. So I followed him to the ends of the earth honing my skills as a ranger, keeping him alive till I couldn't, and giving up my freedom so that others could walk away scot-free. My brother's death was probably a relief to him after the letter we had gotten a week prior." He glanced at her, finding her gaze honed in on him. It was rather unsettling. "We had gotten word that our sisters and mom had died in a raid. My brother didn't let me read the note but he had told me roughly what it had said."

"Will you go looking for them at some point?" Yevanith inquired. "You're mom and sisters?"

He hummed. "Probably. If for nothing else than to know where they were buried. My brother died on the battlefield and I don't know if someone got to his body to bury him. I'll have to check when my time with this company ends."

Silence settled over them again. It dragged at him, coaxing him to sleep but he fought against it determined to make it through the shift before succumbing to sleep.

"Are you not going to try and get me to speak?"

He opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them. "No," he offered truthfully. "If you want to share, you will in due time. I may be willing to spill everything to a stranger but that doesn't mean you are." He shrugged, grinning in jest. "We humans be weird like that." The grin turned to a soft smile. "Just know I'll be keeping an eye on you. Just because I can't guarantee you making it through this alive doesn't mean I can't have your back should you need the help." He smiled again, tired. "And if we're being honest here, we'll all probably be needing your help by the end of this."

She watched him for a moment before looking back out on the forest. "You are a strange one."

"Eh, I like to think I'm being realistic." She gave him a flat look and he laughed. "Not so much?"

"Not with that. You talk as if we are friends."

"Aren't we?"

She frowned. "How could we be friends when I know your life history but not your name?"

He sat up and turned to face her, offering his hand. "Hi. I'm Sam Nish. Pleasure to meet you."

He wondered if the look that flickered across her face was surprise. She took his hand, her hold firm but hesitant. "Pleasant greetings, Sam Nish. I am Yevanith Guildenhoth."

He smiled again. "Not sure how much you know of human culture but you don't have to be formal with my name. Sam is fine." Distaste was clear in her expression and he quickly added, "I do not mind calling you whatever you wish to be called and I don't mind being called by my full name. It's your choice. You introduced yourself as Yevanith to the rest of the group but if you want me addressing you a different way, all you have to do is say so."

"Yevanith is enough." She settled back against the tree and he followed suit. He expected that to be the last of their conversation till he heard her speak again. "Why are you so friendly with me with no ulterior motives like other humans?"

He lowered his hands from behind his head so that he could see her. "What do you mean?"

"Most male of your race flaunt themselves in the hopes of carnal embrace."

He mouthed 'carnal embrace' to himself piecing together what it meant. Sure enough, he had indeed heard it before and wasn't overly surprised that had been many a man's ulterior motives. "Ah," he responded. "Carnal embrace has never really been a drive for me."

"Truly?"

He shrugged. "I was too busy either working on the farm, studying, or trying to keep my brother alive. After that," he gestured to the company, "I was watching their backs."

"No desire at all?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure it's a beautiful experience but, to me, it doesn't seem like something I want to do with just anyone. Now, that could be my parents' teachings. Highest know there was enough talk about it in the academy and a number enjoying it among each other but I just never felt any drive to pursue it."

"Odd indeed, for a human."

He chuckled. "Just so you know, I'm taking that as a compliment."

A smile pulled the corner of her lips upward and it wasn't hard to piece together why men – and probably a good number of women – would try and bed an elf. He could pick out the features that many claimed to be beauty and sexy but, for him, Yevanith wasn't the epitome of beauty as she was for others. To him, she was just another person struggling with demons only she could see and rather than bed her like others would, he wanted to help her with her demons, even if he was only able to help with the smallest, tiniest one. "As ill iterated as it was, it had been such." She looked at him. "You are far more elven than you are human in your mannerisms, Sam Nish. It is refreshing after having seen so many behave so differently."

He tipped his head forward in a sort of bow. "Glad to be of service."

There was the sound of people stirring behind him and he looked over to see Opal waking the next watch.

"Rest, Sam Nish. The next watch is starting and you are in need of rest."

"Will you be returning to the branches for the next watch or will you be resting as well?" he inquired as he shimmied into a more comfortable position against the tree.

"I have not decided if I will remain awake, however, I have found a good enough position to remain in for the rest of the night, if that is your concern."

He gave a huff of a laugh as he closed his eyes. "No, no concern. Just curious."

There was a stretch of silence that nearly put him to sleep but her words cut through the haze of rest. "You are certainly a strange one, Sam Nish."

He waited for more words to leave her tongue but it never did. There was shifting and a strange presence pressed against his arm. Not physically, just enough for him to wonder if she had shifted closer.

Something warm and soft draped over him and he heard her mutter, "Idiot human not using his own blanket. And you said you would be watching my back but instead I am making sure you will not freeze in the forest's night."

More shifting and this time her arm brushed against his. Her warmth seeped through the space between them and he realized without having to look that she was sharing the blanket. Said blanket smelt more of earth than his normally did and he was stunned that she had used her own blanket to cover them both.

"May Fate be kind to us tomorrow," she softly muttered. "Sleep well, Sam."

He jerked awake at the sound of someone shouting. Yevanith was already on her feet, blanket thrown from them both and bow in hand with an arrow notched. He rolled over and unsheathed both swords. As much as he wanted to draw his own bow, he didn't trust the streak of luck he was currently having with the damned thing.

Man, he really missed being a decent archer.

He frowned at the figure trying to piece together what he was seeing but he didn't get the chance to move closer. The initial figure that had drawn everyone's attention had company and had Yevanith not grabbed at the fabric on his back and pulled, he would have been a pin cushion.

"Thanks," he breathed, re-positioning himself at her side.

"Of course." She let loose several arrows. Two took out their targets with ease. Third hit its mark but it didn't seem to fell the target. "You cannot watch my back if you are dead."

"True," he agreed with a grin. He turned having sense the same thing she had. He used the momentum of the turn to bring both swords across in the same upwards sweep. The assailant fell to the ground. He kicked it for good measure.

It didn't get back up.

He rolled the wrist holding the short sword, gaze going across the felled part of the forest. "Friends of yours, Yevanith?"

An arrow shot past his right ear, taking down one of the incoming whatever they were. "Please tell me that was your strange human humor."

He laughed. "It was." One got close enough for him to take out. He wondered if Yevanith had let it. She was taking them out rather efficiently. "How full of a quiver do you have?"

"I will run out if they keep coming at this rate."

He pressed close to her and moved around her, taking out the closest one before taking out its buddy with the second sword. "Then you may want to just switch to a different weapon. These things aren't stopping."

He felt her press against his back briefly as he took another one down. Stupid thing had the audacity to jump at him. It seemed others thought that one had a brilliant idea because a lot of them started throwing themselves at him.

She pressed against his back again but this time did not move away. "We have to put distance between us and your friends."

He had ended up facing the path of felled forest through the brawl and he took a brief moment to glance towards the company, asking, "What? Why?"

And he saw why. For whatever reason, the little - he settled on gremlin things despite them not actually being gremlins - were swarming towards them, focused intently on them. The company was holding its own against the figure and what gremlin things were attacking them but it was clear they were only preventing the figure to come at them and the gremlin things were happy to have at whatever was closest.

"Opal!" he shouted, gaining the dwarf's attention. He noticed Jun coming up and covering the dwarf just as Yevanith provided him what cover she could. "We're going north! Head towards the zaratan! We'll catch up when we get the chance!"

He waited long enough for a brisk nod in acknowledgement before turning and following Yevanith towards the opposite treeline.

"Stop them!" the figure bellowed.

There was a brief surge of the gremlin things before them but they managed to cut through them and hit the trees before the figure broke through the company and chased after them.

He stowed his long sword but kept his short sword in hand as they ran. The gremlin things were quick but they were losing them just as quickly.

By the time he couldn't go anymore, there wasn't a gremlin thing in sight. He crashed to his knees, gasping for breath. The short sword hilt pressed into his palm as he put some of his weight on his hands in the dirt. He glanced over at Yevanith. A part of him was glad to see that he wasn't the only one affected by the sudden long distance sprint.

"We," he gasped, "we have to keep moving."

"As if I am the one in the dirt trying not to pass out," she retorted sharply. He watched as she swayed a bit when she stepped away from the tree she had been leaning against. Her gaze was far more steady, though, as it roamed over him, settling on his thigh. "Are you sure you can?"

He frowned. "Can what?" he asked, turning to look at what she was looking at.

He stared at the nasty cut on his thigh.

"Oh." He wondered briefly why he couldn't feel it. "Guess I took a hit."

"That is an understatement, Sam Nish." He shifted to sit and hissed as it felt like his entire leg suddenly felt like it was on fire. Her grip was painful but the lack of weight on the limb as she helped him sit was appreciated. "You know Cure Wounds, correct?"

"Y-yeah," he croaked. "Just, ah..." He swallowed. "Just give me a moment."

Her hands went to his thigh, one hand at either end of the wound. He hissed when her magic flared around his thigh and started working on healing the damage done. The magic ebbed till it ceased and he blinked his eyes open, feeling far more tired than he had before. The wound had stopped bleeding and looked like it was mostly healed but it was still raw.

Yevanith pulled back. "Use Cure Wounds on your other injuries."

"What of yourself?" he inquired even as he gathered the necessary magic to cast. He could see blood trickling down her neck from some wound hidden by her hair and there were a number of cuts he could see. She hadn't made it through the battle unscathed.

"I will be fine. I have enough magic still for my own Cure Wounds. Cast your own on yourself."

He did as she said and sighed in relief when the ache and some of the exhaustion faded. He opened his eyes again – he really needed to quit closing them in the first place – and saw that a number of her more superficial injuries had vanished. The rest looked a bit raw or a few weeks old but they were healed enough to hopefully not bother her. His own were in a similar state, though it looked like he had taken far heavier damage than she did if the twinges of mild pain were anything to go by.

He clambered to his feet uneasily. Despite her assist, his thigh was not willing to behave fully. It wasn't till he was straightening that he realized her hands had been hovering near him as she withdrew them. "Ready?" he verified.

She nodded as one of the gremlin things stumbled into sight. She took it out just as it spotted them with a well-aimed arrow but there was no knowing how far behind the others were. He grabbed up his short sword and followed her deeper into the forest.

They only made it a few minutes before a swarm of the gremlin things cut them off. Their chittering suddenly filled the trees and he hissed in frustration.

"It is impressive how slippery you can be," a voice curled in from behind them. He turned enough to keep the swarm in sight while looking at the approaching figure. He hoped the company hadn't sustained any deaths before the figure had slipped through their line of defense as he prepared to keep Yevanith out of the figure's grip. "I've hunted you from one end of the map to the other without being able to get my hands on you and yet I gained ground; every day, a little bit closer. Now, though..." The figure sighed in relief, removing a massive double-bladed battle ax from their back and twirling it. "Now you are within my grasp."

To his bewilderment, Yevanith stepped in between them. "You're not taking him."

"What?" he croaked, confused.

The figure laughed. "You think you can stop me, puny elf woman?" The figure pointed the battle ax at her. "I have cleaved plenty of your kind to know your tricks. You will not keep my prey from me. None have. Not that farm family, not the warriors he had traveled with."

It felt like someone had filled his veins with ice and fire all at once and he took a step forward, demanding, "What do you mean by 'that farm family'? You attacked Havestfield?"

The figure laughed. "Are you thick? Of course it was me. I was under the impression you knew you were being hunted. After all, that boy from that farm family seemed to know my movements and you stayed several steps out of reach since then."

He shook his head, snapping, "I'm nothing more than a farm boy myself. And that 'boy', as you so called him, was my brother. We grew up together."

The smile the spread across the figure's face sent alarms sounding through his brain as he felt the magic rise around them at the same time. "You really are thick, aren't you? Are you truly blind to what you are?"

"I'm human," he retorted with all the confidence in that knowledge he could muster.

The figure laughed. "No, you're not, boy." The figure's grin grew even more.

"You're an Everlast."
They went from one chaos to another as her magic pulled at them all, all at once. The battlefield was left behind only to be replaced by the receiving hall full of waiting medics and armed friendlies just in case.

The swarm of medics and family surged forward, engulfing the injured, the living, and the dead before the magic had dissipated completely. Shouts for equipment, for loved ones, and wails of grief quickly filled the remaining space in the hall itself. The noise was deafening yet people were still getting the supplies they needed, still reuniting, and still pushing on despite it.

The noise was nothing compared to the pain of magic coursing through her veins. It ate at her even as it had willingly done as she had asked, had happily followed her request. With no core magic to protect her anymore, the world magic left its mark as it did on all not born to handle its potency and she took the agony willingly if it meant those she was striving to protect could be saved. But the cost was growing and she fought to stay awake.

Several different hands grabbed at her and she grabbed back, finding herself coming face to face with a pair of green eyes on a scarred face. She grabbed at their shirt, refocusing her efforts to the noise around her.

“We cannot stay here!” she shouted. The silence that followed was deafening. She used it to carry her next orders. “We have been compromised. Follow the evac plans and relocate. This is not a drill."

The noise level exploded but it was controlled this time. People – those designated to lead the given relocation efforts – were shouting commands they had all been trained to hear, understand, and follow. The bodies around her surged forward and she turned, clinging to the one with the green eyes on a scarred face as she stumbled towards the back exit.

The group broke from the crowd. Strong arms wrapped around her from both sides and suddenly she was being supported by a pair she was so glad were still alive. Everything about them was the same; the unruly patch of red hair on top of their heads, the glint of determination in their blue eyes, the concern set into their identical frowns. But she could pick out the differences, just like the one with the green eyes on a scarred face could, how the Matt’s concern bled into his expression and how Andy was rigid with rage.

They were both shaking as they led with her between them into the room.

The group flowed in and only those that knew what was going to happen had followed to help. The twins left her side only to be replaced by more bodies. The one with the green eyes on a scarred face was back and was accompanied by a bushy brown maned young woman and a lanky redhead with a smudge across his nose. She gave the green eyes a brief glance before her gaze went to two men that approached. One was holding onto a severed right arm that looked like it still needed more tending to despite the lack of blood.

The other met her gaze and his mask broke.

"Rachel,” he choked, hands reaching for her. She reciprocated and found herself pressed against a chest she was going to miss. “You don’t have to do this. It changes nothing here."

"But it at least mitigates half of his plans,” she countered. She felt his arms tighten around her. “Please, Tom. You have to let me try and save as much of this one as I can and at least this way I get to save other timelines too."

"Tom.” It was the one with the green eyes on the scarred face. “She’s right. We can’t risk it. Not after that, not with what we know now."

The man moved back, gripping her shoulders as if thinking it would be enough to keep her there. It wasn’t but it was a nice thought. The one missing most of his right arm grabbed at the other’s sleeve. "Tom,” he urged. “We don’t have time."

The man before her hissed. "I know. I just…I know."

The man missing most of his right arm walked around Tom as the other let her go. She buried her face into this man’s chest feeling just as protected with the man’s single arm around her. "Be careful for me, ok?"

"I will,” she assured him. Her grip tightened and she was hit with a vicious defiance against going. “I’ll see you soon."

She felt him huff a laugh before he released her.

She gave him one last smile before turning to the trio. The lanky redhead handed her a bag. "Should have everything you need in it. It contains everything from money to food, clothes, and supplies. There’s a list of a few potential houses for you in there as well."

She nodded, taking the deceptively small and weightless bag. She smiled at the young woman. "Most of the spells on it your doing?"

She smiled big and bright. There were tears at the edge of it. "I had help."

The redhead rubbed the back of his neck, grinning. The one with the green eyes on the scarred face stepped forward to draw her attention. "Ready?"

"As ready as I can be.” She looked back at Tom and the one armed man. “You two keep an eye on them all for me, yeah?"

They both nodded.

The one with the green eyes on the scarred face stepped in front of her and she pressed into the soft touches against her cheeks, against either side of her head. She reached up and held onto those hands like the lifeline they felt like they were. She met that green gaze with her own. "You stay alive, ok?"

A grin, large and bittersweet, broke across that scarred face. "I’ll do my best."

Magic started rolling around them and the others backed off. She didn’t drop that green gaze as she called out, "Zephyr."

The elf was at her side immediately, the snake draped like a scarf around the elf’s neck flicking its tongue as the head swiveled around to take in the magic dancing. "I’m here and ready to leave when you are, Missus,” the elf spoke calmly.

The magic surged to life around them, bathing the room in brilliant lights and colors. She let out a shaky breath against the strange sensation of the foreign spell against her. She felt Zephyr’s hand grip at the back of her shirt. “I can’t do this,” she choked, finally giving voice to the fear scraping at her throat.

“Yes you can,” the other assured her. “You can do anything."

Those hands slipped free from her touch and she fought the urge to try and keep the one with those green eyes on a scarred face from stepping away. The other’s name caught in her throat in a panic as they stepped beyond the boundaries of the spell, arms wide open. "You can do this, Ray!” they called to her, grinning big and confidently. “I know you can.” Those green eyes flickered to those surrounding the spell. “We all do."

Another surge of magic and each person standing at the rim of the spell’s border became a fountain of magic of a different color. Some complimented those that were most important to them, whether it was a similar color or contrasting. The one with the green eyes on the scarred face had a magic that didn’t seem to want to pick one color and curled around them in a way that was far calmer yet far more powerful than anyone standing near them. A glance back to Tom and the man with one arm to find Tom’s rich green magic was behaving the same way. The man with the one arm’s magic was a blue of the same richness behaving just as controlled but far less powerful.

All around was an assortment of colors and for the brief moment, each unique magic was isolated. Then a tendril slow, calm, and controlled stretched out towards the well of magic she was standing in.

When it touched, it was like a domino effect. The well of magic spider webbed connections to each individual remaining at the same time and every unique color swirled together before blending into a brilliant white.

Shouts of good will edged her hearing range as the magic overtook her vision.

Their intentions surged through their magic anyway.

There was no way to describe what it was like in the middle of the spell nor how she knew how to guide it along. It had been a haphazardly thrown together spell that they knew would work but not so much how. But just like any magic she had done since her magical core could no longer sustain magic, it burned.

Unfortunately, this time it wasn’t just internal burns.

"Missus!” Zephyr cried out as she collapsed with a cry of pain, wrapping around the burned limb and the burns she could feel under her clothing. For a brief moment at the beginning of the pain, she was grateful the magic had left her clothing untouched. Zephyr’s hands were gentle. “Missus, I need to take us to someplace safe."

"The bag,” she started but was cut off by the pain. Even just tracking Zephyr’s words was difficult. It seemed to be enough because after a stretch of her just being in pain, there was the familiar sensation of Zephyr taking them elsewhere and she opened an eye to find the stretch of an empty entrance hall. “Where…"

"Certainly you recognize it?” Zephyr countered gently.

And she did after a moment. She hissed in displeasure. “I told them not anywhere we were occupying or had been occupied."

"The grounds and the buildings have not been touched for a good decade at minimum, Missus. There’s a lot of work to do but it is a good place to settle."

She shook her head. The motion made the world spin and she fought against the urge to pass out, fighting to keep her thoughts long enough to finish giving the last bit of directions she needed to. It wasn’t like Zephyr needed them but they made her feel better. "But we cannot sustain it nor have people over. For now, it’ll work, but we move on when I’m well enough. Zephyr, if you are willing, I’m going to rely on you to check out the other locations and pick."

The elf didn’t verbally respond. She hadn’t expected one as the pain swallowed her again.

When she came to, she felt gratitude to Zephyr’s initial choice. As much as she would love to be in the familiar home, they could not take it over for another twenty some odd years at least.

She pushed herself upright and looked around. The room was clean and held things that were reminiscent of the room she had occupied in her yesterdays and the world’s tomorrows. The small differences and few items lacking in the room were the only signs that she wasn’t in her own time anymore.

Magic brushed against her arm and she looked over to Zephyr. "How do you feel, Missus?"

"Tired.” She let Zephyr adjust the pillows behind her and help her settle against them. “No pain, though, so that’s good.” A different kind of magic pressed against her and she closed her eyes. “Zephyr, have you tried speaking to Magic?"

"No, Missus. I have had no need to."

"Ok.” She took a breath. “Can I have a moment, then?"

"Of course, Missus. Call when you need anything."

"Thank you, Zephyr."

She waited till long after the elf’s magic had dissipated from the air before she reached out her senses. Magic reacted immediately and it seared against her skin in retaliation. She sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t fight the touch.

"Magic,” she breathed. It pressed against her, pressed against her chest and forced her deeper into the pillows; it was like fire against her chest, in her chest. “Please,” she half begged. “I know we don’t belong here and I know you don’t want us here but you have to let us stay. We’re trying to prevent numerous deaths and protect you."

The fury of Magic’s touch retreated, leaving the impression of wary confusion. She raised a hand as if to touch a solid form but there was nothing physically there for her hand to press against. Still, the weight of Magic against her palm did increase from the gesture. "In too many years to be exact, an evil will arise like none the world had seen before. It will be intent on ridding the world of all living life and is planning on nullifying Magic to do it.” Magic’s touch still burned as it shifted against her but there wasn’t the fury that had seared her before. It was almost like Magic wasn’t sure if it should believe her or not. “Please, Magic. Let me try and save you and everyone that I can from the great evil that is coming.” She shuddered against Magic’s shifting, her hand falling back to the sheets. Her eyes were closed but her palm felt raw. She wondered if it was bleeding. “Please."

It took what felt like eternity for her to receive a response from Magic. When she did get it, it was through the press of healing magic. No matter how gentle Magic was with the healing magic, the touch still burned and very little was healed. Still, she smiled weakly. "Thank you, Magic."

She woke up to the smell of warm summer air. The curtains on the windows were open just as wide as the windows themselves. The breeze that drifted through held the sounds of the surrounding fauna. She felt far too heavy to look around at the sound of footfall but Zephyr was at the edge of the bed before she decided whether she needed to press through the exhaustion or not.

"Welcome back, Missus,” Zephyr greeted with a soft smile.

“How long was I out?"

Zephyr arched an eyebrow. "Collectively? Five days. Since you spoke with Magic? Only two."

"And the results from the other locations?"

"There are two properties that I believe fit what you had initially wanted. Both are within Muggle areas."

"Good.” She pushed herself upright, accepting Zephyr’s aid to sit back against the pillows. “Did you find out when we are?"

"The Tom for which you are looking for has not been born yet. His due date is not for another five months."

Surprise rushed through her. "We made it back that far?"

"It would seem so."

She sank into the pillows, letting out a sigh. "Then we have time.” She sat up a bit straighter. “Zephyr, eight years from now, I want to go pick up Tom. Will you help me to remember?"

"Of course, Missus."

"Good. Thank you.” She sank back into the pillows as a thoughtful expression crossed her face. “I hope it’s enough time before he has to attend Durvins."

Zephyr offered her an amused smile. "I am quite confident it will be plenty of time, Missus. You can be quite potent that, any longer and he may still become the person you are working to keep him from becoming."

She chuckled weakly. "I’ll have to trust your word on that.” She sighed, expression heavy. "Then the current challenge is IPPA.“ She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "I don’t know if I can manage it."

"You will,” Zephyr assured her. “And if not, there are plenty of other things you can do instead."

She wasn’t able to take the comfort from those words.

The summer heat was missing as the sun started edging over the horizon. The world – most of which had slept through the night – started to slowly wake but in among the human habitants, there were those already up and moving.

From one instance to the next, a pair of adults appeared walking down the sidewalk of some quiet street. There was no one to see them appear and no one to notice their passing till they stepped out onto a busier street an hour later.

The taller of the two pointed down the street, guiding the shorter's attention to their destination. Barely feeling the hour walk, the pair continued on with sights set on one of the older buildings down a side street a block up.

Whoal's Orphanage loomed over them in a sort of depressing way and the pair came to a stop just before the door.



"Missus, he’s too young to know what this means…” the taller offered as if it would sooth any hesitation.

Rachel’s expression twisted, not believing the taller. “I just hope we’re not too late."

With a steady hand, she knocked on the door.

There was a stretch of silence that was expected. She had timed their departure and walk to place them there near the tail end of breakfast at the very edge of the orphanage’s open hours.

A severe woman opened the door and glared at them. "Can I help you?” she asked politely enough.

“Good morning,” she replied cordially. “We were wondering if the orphanage was open for adoptions."

The severe woman arched an eyebrow. "The children are still at breakfast. If you came back in an hour-"

"I don’t mind them being occupied,” she quickly cut in. “We want to see them from a distance first before overwhelming ourselves with meeting every child."

The severe woman scoffed. "If you so wish."

She stepped back and gestured inward. She offered the woman a soft smile and stepped in, Zephyr stepping in behind her. The elf’s glamour was holding splendidly as the woman closed the door without batting an eye in the elf’s direction, informing them, "I will walk you to the meal hall. If you would please follow me?"

Zephyr fell into step and for anyone else, it would look like she had followed as well. But those with the right perception could see she stayed standing in the entrance watching the severe woman and Zephyr wander deeper into the orphanage. It wasn’t till they slipped around a corner did she moved.

Reaching into the collar of her coat, Rachel pulled out a snake whose tongue flicked about taking in the new area.

"Find Tom,” she guided gently. The snake flicked its tongue at her before darting down a hallway as soon as their scales touched the floor.

She straightened with a sigh before slowly following after the snake. The hallway she entered was surprisingly populated by children despite the severe woman’s comment about the children being at breakfast. The children paid her no attention and she easily passed after the equally ignored snake.

“Found you.”

It was soft but she was far too familiar with it to have missed it. A soft smile graced her lips as she approached the open door the little voice had come from.

“Found me?” She paused just before the door, her expression twisting against the wave of emotions. The new voice was far too young to be of any real balm against the loss she still felt but it still held familiarity in it. “Why were you looking for me?”

“Because the Mastdrem asked to find you.”

“Mastdrem?”

She stepped into the doorway, gaining both pairs of eyes. The snake bobbed its head in a nod towards her, informing the boy sitting on the bed, “Mastdrem.”

The brown eyes that bore into her were not tinged red and she felt both parts sorrow and joy at it. Masking the turmoil in her heart, she offered the boy a soft smile.

The boy’s face – still young, still learning – twisted for the briefest of moments into distaste and faint fear before becoming expressionless. “Who’re you?"

"My name is Rachel,” she answered. “And yourself?"

The boy turned his gaze back to the snake, doing a very good job of scoffing at her. "Why should I tell a stranger my name?"

"Because I sent Neranaga looking for a boy named Tom who smells of familiar magic."

Those brown eyes snapped to her again as she calmly watched him. That fear she had briefly glimpsed was now at the forefront of the boy’s expression, though he was trying to mask it with a sort of fury fueled indignation. "What are you talking about, lady?"

Rachel gestured towards the boy’s bed on which the boy himself was perched. "May I join you first?"

He didn’t trust her. Even at such a young age, his magic rolled up against her with his need to shove her away. But nothing came of the suppressed urge and he shifted over, though not by much. It was his way of retaining control in the situation, in a sense.

She closed the door and asked Magic to very visibly sound proof the room. Magic bubbled visibly, collecting against the door and walls till not even the boards creaking beneath her feet could be heard.

"What did you do?"

Horror was written on Tom’s face, though there was a flicker of awestruck curiosity so faint, she wasn’t sure if it even existed. She didn’t move from the door. Instead, she pressed back against it, willing the flare of pain to ease some.

She had gotten used to Magic’s constant burning but sometimes it got beyond even her limits.

"I asked Magic to sound proof the room."

"Why?"

It was sharp, it was demanding, and it reminded her too much of the men and women she had left behind. She closed her eyes against the surge of sorrow, answering plainly, "The only other magic user in the building is my companion and it is against several laws in every magical society to let non-magics know of the existence of Magic in any form."

"Magic isn’t real?"

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. Disbelief was quickly replacing the horror on his face. The curiosity was still there and growing.

"Isn’t it?” She nodded towards Neranaga. “You know Serpent Speech, though I don’t know if you are aware of how it sounds to non-speakers quite yet."

"Hissing,” the boy cut in like her comment had offended him.

She smiled but it didn’t stay. “I’m impressed. I have only met two that were born with the ability to speak Serpent Speech and while the older never told me if he was aware there was a different for non-speakers, the younger said he hadn’t realized it sounded different to others till he was twelve. He said it sounded like English to him."

"It does,” the boy grumbled.

She smiled, letting the boy have those words to himself. “So can you really say Magic doesn’t exist?"

"How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re not lying and pulling a prank?” he challenged.

“How would you like me to prove it then?” she countered willingly, opening her arms to him.

The boy’s gaze wandered from her as he contemplated his options. She watched as those brown eyes followed a stream of magic as it ebbed and flowed around the walls, curling in areas and spreading out, never stagnant like many presumed it did. Then, as if inspired, he snapped his gaze to her and decreed, “If you can find what is not mine, I’ll believe you."

Surprise flashed through her and she was certain it showed on her face. She wondered if he knew it was because she hadn’t been expecting such a simple challenge or if he saw it as a show of overwhelm for a task he believed difficult. "In this room alone?” she clarified, already feeling Magic itching to do as requested.

He shook his head. “But you can’t just make them magically appear. You have to physically get them and then take me to the others."

Content enough with his rules, she crossed to the wardrobe to Magic’s disappointment. She soothed it, promising that it can take part in a moment.

Opening the doors, she reached in between the clothes and pulled out a shoe box. With it still in hand, she reached with her other hand up into the eaves of the piece and pulled down a hidden trinket that Magic assured her did not belong to him. She set it down on the bed with the shoebox before offering her hand to the wide-eyed boy. That distrust was on his face again but it masked his fear of her. Or was it the fear of her seemingly lack of limits? "Shall we?” she asked, though it was rather rhetorical. With a dazed look, the boy took her hand.

The world around them melted away far slower than she would have normally let it. She knew, though, that the boy wanted to see what Magic did and the best way to do that - for the traveling at least - was to slow the process down a margin.

The cave was damp but warm, oddly enough. She could smell the sea on the cold wind that curled in from the entrance. Magic illuminated the space by its own biding, creating streams of light as it made itself visible to them both. The boy’s expression was still dazed as she led him deeper into the cave till they reached the back wall.

There, on a naturally occurring shelf, sat a stuffed rabbit, a book, and a wooden train. “These are the last of them,” she offered, looking down at him.

He had yet to let go of her hand.

“How did you find them?"

"I asked Magic to help."

At her words, the stream of Magic on the stream of magic on the ceiling dropped down coiling around the smaller first before the both of them. She caught sight of the boy reaching out and passing his fingers through the stream. She watched it parted like water only to gather again behind his fingers undisturbed by his touch.

The shudder that went through him traveled up into her hand.

"Could I make it do things too?"

Magic recoiled at the tone of his question, vanishing and leaving them in absolute darkness. His body bumped against hers as his grip turned painful. She placed their joined hands on his shoulder as she knelt. While Magic had left them blind, she could still see it playing off of Tom’s form and she touched his other arm with her free hand. "You can’t force Magic to do anything. In fact, if you fight it and force it, the consequences could be worse than death."

She knew he was sneering at her. It was only natural for him to do so, what with her knowing who he was from years yet to come. But unlike his future self, Tom’s voice quaked in fear. "What’s worse than death?"

"Many things,” she answered cryptically. “For some, it’s the loss of Magic completely."

A breath. "That can happen?” he whispered softly.

“Absolutely.” She stood up, still holding onto his hand. “And for many who have lived with Magic’s touch and the weight of their own magic, it is worse than any death could have been. At least with Death, there’s no more living, but without magic, one can still live and it can be a hard life after so much ease."

The cave melted away slowly at her request. She didn’t want to blind Tom with the abrupt scene change. When Tom’s room was solid around them, she watched his gaze go to the bed as his hand slipped from hers. The stuffed rabbit, the book, and the wooden train were resting with the shoebox and the other item she had grabbed from his closet. Neranaga was snoozing on the shoebox in the stream of sunlight from the window, not even waking for the arrival of new items.

"Why are you here, lady?” Tom asked, his voice heavy in a way she hadn’t thought she would ever hear till the boy was years older.

“I want to bring you into my family."

His eyes made their way up to her and she saw the distrust was back. "Why?"

She knelt beside him. "Because I made a promise to someone dear to me to come and get you when I had a place ready for you.” That only made the distrust worse and she offered him a soft smile. “How about this, you come home with me and if you find yourself wanting to keep the family I’m offering when you become legal and are able to move out, I’ll answer every question that you have about my reason for picking you specifically. What do you say?"

He studied her. She knew she wasn’t winning any favors but it was clear she had peaked his interest enough for him to agree.

"When I come of age, you’ll answer everything?"

She nodded, smiling. "You can even write them down as the years go by. I’ll buy you a journal or a pocket book you can keep with you at all times, if you would like."

His eyes lit up at that. "That’s all mine?"

She nodded. "That you can do whatever you want with.” She tapped his nose. “Just no starting fires in the house if you can manage it. I’d rather mitigate the amount of damage control I’ll have to deal with over the next handful of years."

He swatted at her hand, barking at her for her insolence, but the happy gleam in his eyes told her she had the visit had been a surprising success. Her gaze wandered to the items on the bed as Tom turned to scoop up Neranaga, going on about something in Serpent Speech.

Once more she hoped she hadn’t made the mistake of waiting so long to come and get him.

Only time would tell.

[ArtisticVicu]

July 2019
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Catching up on past prompts.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know. I have not reread these as I posted them as of the date on this post.

A low rumble filled the air and the ground beneath his feet trembled. Bewildered, he glanced at his brother but gained no gaze in return. His brother was already looking towards the source of the sound. Another low rumble rolled past them, the ground quaking beneath them with greater force as his other brother stepped up to his other side. Together, the three of them watched as something large miles away rose into the air only to come back down. The subsequent rumble and quake made him think whatever it was, was hitting the ground with tremendous force. Repeatedly.

"Solaris, can you make it out?" he asked. He certainly couldn't.

The younger of his brothers shook his head. "Luran?"

The older brother pulled off his glasses, cleaning them. "Not enough to make out what's going on."

Another rumble.

The quake that followed shook the ground hard and plenty of things got dislodged. A number of the bystanders that had exited their homes in search of the noise were knocked off their feet. He surprisingly kept his foothold.

A sharp wind slammed into him and an all too familiar chill ran down his spine. Immediately his hand went to the top of his head but he knew what would be there long before his fingers buried themselves in the thick mane he now sported. His gaze drifted right and found the older brother's appearance had changed from a lion to some sort of reptile. His brother was staring at his scaled hands with a look of concentration as if he was trying to will the kuro back into the depths of his soul. Turning his gaze from his now scaly brother, he focused on his other brother to see that feathers had replaced fur and those eyes were now honed in on the source of the chaos without any outward show of concern for the forced kuro shift.

All around them were shouts and cries of confusion as the kuro that many had suppressed – be it to keep themselves safe or due to the strict laws in place – had been brought into existence.

"Solaris?" he asked, voice quaking but with what, he couldn't tell. There were too many things and far too many emotions that he was choking on them. No longer a lioness but a lion, able to be in the kuro he had desperately wanted to live in but couldn't, it was like a bitter dream he didn't want to have disappear. "What do you see?"

"Trouble." His brother's gaze flicked to the other brother. "How sure are you on your wings, Luran?"

Those leather wings spread wide, stretching their full length. "As sure as you are on yours."

The brothers grinned at each other as Solaris opened his own wings. Those eyes still ever his brother's focused on him. "You able to keep up, sis?"

His grin was sharp. "I'll be right behind you."

Solaris nodded.

It was easy for him to coax his kuro to trade places with a different one and he felt the muscles in his body stretch and move in a way he hadn't been able to feel in far too long. With all four paws on the ground, he stretched a bit before shaking himself. Even in this kuro he could tell that the lioness one he had been born into was no longer in his reach, regardless of whether it was bipedal or not. He turned his gaze to the trouble who knew how far away and dug in.

"Let's go," Luran called out and Polaris kicked off.

He felt the brush of both winds kicked up by his brothers' wings and he knew that both had raced after him looking for lift.

They found it at the same time, the wind from their down strokes buffeting him from either side till they were too high for their wind to reach him.

His paws hit pavement and he dug in harder, giving himself to the sensation of running as hard and as fast as he could using every muscle in his body to keep himself moving forward. Luran and Solaris settled far enough ahead of him that he could keep an eye on them without looking away from where he was running. Another rumbled and he kept running through the quake, grateful and mildly impressed with himself that he hadn't been tripped up by the shifting earth. His brothers slowed as if worried but he kept going, kept pushing forward.

The rumble's tone was still low but it was loud enough that he felt it just as much as he heard it and this time the ground rolled, the streets breaking as buildings toppled and he leapt from one wave crest to the next, his brothers coming in to aid him as they could. The closer they got to the source of the whole mess, the more clearly they could see what was going on and it was making the hair on his back stand upright in fury.

Luran dived in first belching fire at what lay in Polaris's way. Solaris was right behind him, talons sharp and well-aimed as they dug into the creatures that were getting between them and their target.

Polaris dived through the mess, eyes wildly searching for the figure he and his brothers had seen.

The ground beneath his feet quaked savagely as the section of earth rose again. The piece was massive and it was all Polaris could do to keep his foothold as he found himself on the piece of earth rising into the sky.

"Laris!"

He turned, seamlessly shifting to his biped form and with sure feet, he wrapped his arms tightly around the body that slammed into his. His feet left shallow gouges in the earth from the force of the catch and as he came to a stop, he took a step back and spun, flinging the body in his arms skyward and farther into the center of the top of the mass. The little fluff ball of a body shot through the air with a squeal of laughter, before their kuro gave way to one incredibly larger. The earth that was smoothly rising into the air quaked beneath him as the massive kuro punched the ground, splitting the massive piece of earth into several pieces.

Polaris kicked off racing towards the center of the mass as that massive kuro changed again. Two new bodies landed on either side of him and kept pace with him, both ready for a fight.

"Who we up against, Laris?" the one on his right demanded, his code name rolling off their tongue with habitual ease.

"Kyor."

The two bodies jerked to a stop and he skidded to a halt, spinning in the motion enough to be facing them when his body stopped moving. They were both giving him looks they didn't have time to deal with. He straightened, stating plainly, "If you can't keep a clear head, you don't have to stick around. You are more than welcome to leave this fight to me and the others."

"Do they know?" the one that had been on his left asked.

"Solar and Lunar are aware," he appeased, wondering briefly if his brothers were aware of his and each other's code names. "I don't know who else knows."

"Have they worked together before?" the first asked with a frown.

He shrugged, shifting his stance so that his body left him more open to move towards the center again as it felt like the ground beneath his feet was coming to a stop. He felt almost weightless and it sent a thrill through his system. "They're family, Cryo. Even if they haven't on the field, they'll work well together now."

The ground started to fall.

The two before him reacted to the change in direction with a hint of panic but he just turned his head as two shadows overtook him. "Get Cryo and Hermes," he directed calmly. "Make sure they'll be in fighting order when this ride stops."

"What of you?" Luran asked, feet barely brushing the ground.

He gave a sharp grin. "I'll be fine. It's not like we haven't been in this situation before."

Solaris laughed, joining them with the duo clinging to him for support. "Certainly not to this magnitude."

Luran walked over and took Cryo from Solaris. Both of his brothers look at him, expressions professional, determined, and barely concealing their worry. "You gonna be alright, Laris?" Solaris asked, answering the question he hadn't had the chance to ask.

He nodded. "Get them to safety. I'll go punch Kyor in the face."

Solaris kicked off as Luran grinned. "Don't go taking all the fun for yourself."

He laughed. "I'll try to leave you something but I make no promises."

Luran nodded. "Stay safe, Laris."

"You too, Lunar. Watch each other's back for me."

"Always."

He turned as Luran's wings spread wide and started for the center of the mass where the one he had thrown was still fighting against Kyor - the same person he and his brothers had caught sight of before the others had joined them. Thankfully the one he had thrown had assistance because Kyor was kicking all of their asses.

He wasn't sure if it was just good timing or if someone had seen him but as he leapt to join the fray – arm back ready to punch Kyor in the face – the bodies between him and his target hid him from sight before abruptly moving, giving him the opening to follow through and actually land the hit.

Kyor's head snapped to the side and the ground quaked as some of the villain's control fractured. He reached back to have another swing but Kyor retaliated faster than he anticipated and he turned his punch into a block against the chuck of earth that tried to collide with his face.

He spun with the force of it and transferred it all into a kick. Kyor's shin met his and the pain was fleeting as Kyor countered with being the one with a better stance to do so.

Quickly and ferociously, they threw attacks at each other with as much power as they had in a chaotic dance on that falling chunk of earth. He knew they were running out of time but as long as he kept Kyor from lifting everything into the air again, then it was enough.

He heard the first of the chunk of earth hit the unrelenting ground and he ducked under Kyor's attack in order to throw them both into the air. He had to trust the others had gotten off safely, if not at least out of harm's way. The entire things fractured and broke apart, shattering as Kyor lost hold of the massive piece of earth. His desperate leap didn't stop their downward motion but it countered it enough that there wasn't recoil from the chunk of earth, no injuries sustained from the landing beyond what Kyor dealt him. He twisted, forcing Kyor to hit a piece of earth that had shifted so that the flat surface was more of a hall now than the ground they had just been fighting on.

Kyor coughed from the force and he couldn't help but admit the landing hurt. The villain beneath him didn't seem to care, recovering quickly enough to try and kick him. He pinned the other down, one leg tangled around Kyor's to force the other's weight onto the knee he had pressed into the makeshift wall between the villain's legs. He managed to get both of Kyor's hands pinned with one hand and Polaris used his free arm to put pressure on the villain's throat.

"Enough," he spat.

Kyor scoffed. "Oh please. It's not like there's anything you can do to stop me, Laris."

It felt like Kyor had reached into his chest and gave his heart a good squeeze as those blue eyes glared at him with the fury of a black hole sun - and if that wasn’t a thing, he was certain Kyor would invent it if need be. Kyor was egging him on and he didn't - couldn't - react to it now. He added a bit more pressure, wondering where the others were at. He was going to get backup to make sure Kyor went into custody this time, right? "Trust me. I can try."

He felt Kyor's hand flex with the grip on the other's wrists. It was the only warning he got before a massive, very solid piece of earth slammed into his back. It shoved him into Kyor but did nothing to free the villain. Polaris tightened his grip on the other's wrists threateningly, growling as he put his full body weight on the other's throat. "Do that again and you'll probably break your own neck with my arm."

Kyor's eyes flashed at the challenge and Polaris braced for another attack.

This time the attack came from the right. If he had been standing any other way, Kyor would have knocked him free. Instead, all the villain did was scrape and bruise Polaris's right side, which inclued the arm pressed against Kyor's throat. It pushed him into the villain and he felt the other's hot breath against his neck. But he could still feel Kyor's arms flexing and before he could get back upright, another chuck of earth slammed into him from the left.

Attack after attack slammed into him and a few slammed into his head so hard, he wasn't sure if it had made him black out for a few seconds or if it was just all happening too fast for him to keep up.

"Yemnal."

The attacks stopped.

He wasn't sure when they had stopped but they had stopped. It took far too long for him to focus back in on where he was at, what he was doing, as it felt his entire body had been thrown down the side of a stupidly tall mountain. As he started to recenter himself, he became aware of the fact that he was pressed up against Kyor, head nestled on the other's shoulder where blood was making skin contact tacky. He wanted to push away, to put distance between them, but it seemed too much.

There were arms wrapped around him anyways. It wasn't like Kyor was completely pinned anymore.

"What did you call me?" the other demanded, breathless. He frowned even as just one blink seemed to take longer than normal. Fingers scrapped at his back as he felt Kyor shift under him but it wasn't in an attempt to dislodge him. Why wasn't Kyor taking this chance to flee? Kyor shook him, agitating a number of wounds. "What did you call me."

His slip of the tongue came back in a hazy sort of way. "Yemnal."

He found himself on the ground. It seemed that Kyor finally threw him off.

"Why did you call me that?" the other demanded.

He couldn't tell if it was due to the head injuries he had sustained or if it sounded like Kyor was actually scared of the answer. "A slip of the tongue," he offered in what he could coherently create as honest.

The fur at his chest was fisted and he was yanked upward. He hissed in pain as Kyor brought their faces together and it was all he could do to get one eye cracked open. "That's not good enough!" Kyor barked. "Why did you call me that!"

Confusion pulled at him as his vision swam. Where was he again? And why did the other look so....so worried? "Because that's your name," he ground out. Why was he in so much pain? Was Yemnal pissed at him and had taken it out on him during their spar? "Yemnal, what's going on? Why are you mad at me?"

The ground was unforgiving when he hit it again and he couldn't help the grunt that escaped him. He couldn't find the strength to push himself up enough to look for Yemnal. "Damn," he hissed. He took a shaky breath in, floating through the pain enough to open his eyes. He couldn't focus on how his body was laying without getting swallowed by the pain but he was glad that his head was at least angled skyward. White, puffy clouds drifted by lazily beyond the haze of dust.

"How do you know that name?"

He frowned at the heavens, not understanding the quaking of the other's voice. He wanted to move, to look at Yemnal's face, but even the thought of moving caused pain to shoot up his spine. He tried to grin but he wasn't even sure if a smile made it onto his face. "What are you talking about? Of course I know your name. It would be rude to not know my partner's name."

Silence.

It lasted so long that he had let his eyes close and was contemplating sleep even as, at the edge of conscious thought, he wondered where Yemnal had gone.

"Hey," that familiar, warm voice coaxed, a rough hand against his cheek. "Don't go to sleep."

He let out a huff in a laugh but it caused him to start coughing.

The pain was excruciating.

When he finally came out of it, his breathing was shallow and every muscle spasm sent pain flashing through his body.

"You can't sleep yet, Polaris," that familiar, warm voice cut through, shattering the darkness that had been overtaking him. "You've got to stay awake."

"Yemnal?" he asked, the word coming out in a croak. It hurt his throat but his desire for answers pushed him through it. "What happened?"

A breath of silence.

"A mess of things," Yemnal answered, though there was an odd quake to the words. "But help's on the way. You'll be fine."

He'll be fine? Wait, what had happened? What about Yemnal?

He forced his eyes open but he wasn't able to make anything out. The world was nothing more than a kaleidoscope of colors. "What about you? Are you ok? Did you get hurt?"

The desire to check Yemnal – to make sure the other was uninjured and safe – drove him to try and push himself up but his arm flared in pain and gave out under him. The cry was involuntary as he crumpled to the ground.

Hands, shaking and careful, pressed against him as Yemnal urged, "I'm fine. Just a few bruises. You need immediate attention, though, so try and stop moving."

He let out a shaky breath, grateful. "Ok," he ceded. "Ok," he sighed.

Someone was shouting but he couldn't make out the words.

He hoped the kid across the street who had a hidden kuro like him would say yes to going to the river tomorrow. He felt so isolated and the other kid – his name was Yemnal, right? – looked just as lonely as he felt. Polaris hoped they could be friends.

That would be nice. Then he wouldn't feel so lonely when his brothers hung out together without him.
It was a burst of light as it entered the atmosphere, fire curling around it for the briefest of moments as what had collected against the hull was burned off in a burst of friction. The vessel itself wavered as it descended through the air far too quickly to be considered a controlled descent.

It kept airborne for over half of the planet's diameter, going from where the sun's light had given way to night to where the sun's light had barely started chasing the night away. It was in this land of crisp morning that the vessel finally lost to the planet's gravity and hit the ground.

The gouge created by the vessel started sharp before the vessel leveled out. By the time everything came to a stop, the gouge was several hundred miles long. and nearly a hundred feet deep. There was some debris littering the gouge but the vessel looked relatively unharmed. The sun crept across the sky and by the time there was any sign of movement from the vessel, the sun had burned off the chill of morning.

A massive door opened slowly near the base of the vessel. Something shimmered in the space left by the retreating door. Beyond that shimmering something, beings stood waiting, watching. Some were battered, some looked exhausted, but all had a sort of apprehension to their expression. The one closest to the shimmering looked like they were holding the weight of the world on their shoulders as they waited for the door to clear from their line of sight and show them what was beyond.

The door thudded to a stop and the shimmering dissipated. All in the room knew that the thing that had been shimmering was still there, though. Invisible as it may seem, the shields were still fully operational.

"Captain?" The one standing at the opening looked to the one that had spoken. The person stepped forward. "Are we cleared?"

The one responding to Captain took a step back from that invisible line. "Be careful out there, Ardolys, and be back in five hours, ship time."

Ardolys nodded and started giving orders. It took a quarter of an hour of ship time for those that were going on the expedition to leave by either foot or vehicle. As the last of the walking group passed over the threshold, the massive door started to lower. The Captain watched all of it without much reaction. There was a deep rumble when the massive door closed completely and the echo filled the silence for a brief moment.

"Mern, I'm counting on your team to keep a constant eye on their locations and communications," the Captain spoke out, turning away from the door. "Orns, with me."

The Captain walked away from the massive door heading for the other side of the hangar. A body fell into step beside him and he didn't have to look to know that it was Orns. "Any reports come in while we sent the expedition teams off?"

"No, Sir," Orns responded readily. "Though the med bay should be the closest to reporting if you would like to head there first."

He nodded. "Head to engineering. I don't expect a final report but I want an update. I trust they'll alert the ship if we need to evacuate but I want to know if we need to make preparations. If the core explodes, we'll need to know what distance is considered safe and they should have that number by now."

Orns gave a shallow bow and continued down the space as the Captain turned left, heading for a door that led back into the halls of the ship.

Nothing had been seriously damaged to the point where immediate evacuation had been required. The landing hadn't been smooth and there was certainly hull damage, but the rest of the ship had stayed in tack, the core hadn't been damaged to the point of immediate explosion, and most injuries were relatively minor. With no major damage to vessel, the med bay was still completely operational and so those few that had been severely injured would be back on their feet in short order.

He stepped into the med bay to find it quite the mess since most things not bolted down or locked away had been thrown about - his own quarters, personal and otherwise, were a sight to see; he didn't even realize he had that many items that could get thrown about in a crash - and other priorities had led to the mess remaining. He did notice a few personnel were cleaning up the far side of the med bay, though, so he took that as a good sign.

"Captain." He looked towards the source and found the lead medic approaching. "Has the expedition teams left, then?"

He nodded, taking a step back to open himself to the lead medic. "How are things here, Eru?"

"Good," the lead medic responded with a flicker of surprise. "I've only had two out of the entire ship that cannot leave their beds for a few more hours."

He let out a sigh as some of the weight on his shoulders left. "I'm glad. Anything else to report?"

Eru's expression twisted as if the other was annoying or being an unnecessary challenge. "A number of our supplies were damaged or made useless in the crash despite the time he had to secure everything. We're working the matazens at full capacity right now to not only get back to full stock but to have a surplus should anything happen."

"Good. When you start amassing the surplus, send it down to the hangar. I'll set orders out to start relocating things to the designated safe zone till we know more." He started to turn as Eru gave a half bow but stopped. "Vice," he spoke softly, gaining Eru's gaze again. He caught the glint of curiosity. "Don't get caught up in your work. I know Byre will be busy on the engineering team but you two need to check in with each other and your children. Especially now that the worse of it is over."

Eru smiled at him, the gratitude clear in the expression. "I will, Sir. Don't worry." Eru turned partially away. "Just listen to your own advice, Captain. I'm sure Sasha would love to know you haven't gone and killed yourself with overworking again."

He laughed. "I'm sure she will, too."

Words said, he left the med bay. He found Eru's words sticking too hard for him to go directly to engineering. And it wasn't like going to go see Sasha was out of his way, necessarily.

The halls were strangely quiet as he made his way through them. Despite the limited noise the engine and life support systems made, there had always been a low, soothing rumble of a tone that had always filled the halls that he only noticed in its absence and it made him a bit uneasy. He hoped that despite its presence, everything would be fine.

The door opened for him as he approached it and suddenly the noise that had been trapped inside spilled out in a cacophony of sound. There were a number of adults, young adults, and older children in among the youngest members of his crew but it was the children that were making the most noise. There didn't seem any order to the chaos inside the space. While it wasn't massive compared to the hangar, the room itself was still four times the size of the largest conference room on the vessel and was probably the largest space to fall under the living space designation. While the space itself was massive, though, it had been broken up into different areas and small sub-rooms pocketed the depths of the space. The majority of the central space where he had entered into was the most occupied. Children were doing all sorts of crafts. He realized a few were trainings even geared for the younger minds. He caught sight of a familiar face that beamed at him before crossing through the throng of children.

"What do you think?" the familiar face asked.

"Training?" he questioned skeptically.

The familiar face split into a grin. "Meshna's idea. She thought it would be good to start the children off on basic survival skills for their mental levels. Graven was all on board for it. Most are just being taught weaving, fire starting, and how to find or craft a temporary shelter. The higher levels are learning more of what is edible, what is not, how to find north and reallocate themselves with the location of the ship if they get lost, where we are on the map and whatnot. Krem wants to get directional trained in the lower levels too but other things have taken priority as we've done the buddy system."

"You have enough emergency kits for each person here?"

The familiar face softened at his concern. "Each child knows the ins and outs of those bags so well, they'll probably be dreaming about them for weeks." Their expression sobered immediately. "Captain, what is our status? Will we be able to stay in the ship and use it as our home or are we going to have to relocate? A lot of the people on this ship will not be happy with the latter, not when we have to rough it."

He sighed. "Unfortunately I don't have an answer to that question just yet." He met that familiar gaze steadily. "When I find out, I'll send word. I want you to make sure all the children – even the older ones – make it off safely if things go wrong."

"Of course, Captain."

"Gee-pa! Gee-pa!" A little body collided with his leg and he exaggerated the severity of the collision quite extensively. Despite how big the little body had gotten, there still wasn't enough force behind the contact at his thigh to do much in the way of knocking him over, let alone shift his weight. He buried his fingers into the unruly reddish brown curls, gaining a grinning face. "You came! Adma was saying you wouldn't!"

He gave the familiar face a flat look as the other shrugged. "I wasn't certain you would have time to stop by, regardless of if there would be orders to evacuate. I didn't want her waiting around for you to never show up."

He reached down and picked the child up, commenting conspiratorially with the child, "It would seem your Adma has no faith in me at all." The child giggled as that head of curls pressed into his neck and shoulder. "Did you lose faith in me too, my sweet Sasha."

"No," Sasha giggled, little hands clinging to him.

He rubbed her back, content. "I'm glad." He focused back on that familiar face. "Where is Graven?"

The other turned, pointing towards a head of hair identical to the one currently pressed against his throat. Graven looked completely content surrounded by a swarm of children all seeking praise of their weaving. It was endearing to see that Graven wasn't just praising every child; even from where they were standing, the Captain could see that Graven was walking a few children through how to make their weaves better and saw how the children took to it.

"I know that species differences between sentients aren't normally talked about in order to respect the more private of the given species culture, but I am so glad that Graven's imrentu. It makes it far easier to work with children when all we have to do is put Graven before them and walk away."

He looked to the familiar face beside him, catching the wistful, grateful look he had seen on a different face so many years ago. "You did good in your choice, even if your old man fought it tooth and nail."

That familiar face broke out into a grin and for a moment, he saw a face he hadn't seen in years. "Ah, come on, Pop. You were just looking out for me after Ma died. And you had every right to be cautious." That familiar face turned away, focusing once more on Graven. "I was on a mission to help quell the dispute between the imrentu and us. Getting caught up with one of them in the middle of that was incredibly dangerous for both of us for the same and completely different reasons." That gaze returned to him. "You had every right to be worried."

He let out a heavy sigh. "But I should have trusted you. We lost so much time because of my stupidity."

"Gee-pa, don't be sad." He looked down at the child still in his arms and couldn't help but smile at the serious look on her face. "Adma and Omna made me so that you can make up."

He chuckled. Despite not understanding her thought process, he got what he hoped was her intent. "You are quite right about that. Now." He carefully put Sasha back onto her own two feet. "Why don't you go see your Omna while I talk with your Adma?"

"Ok! Bye Gee-pa!" she shouted, racing off even as she waved goodbye.

He watched her make it all the way to Graven's side, watch as the imrentu seemed to gain more life at Sasha's presence, lifting her up and showering her with all the love of a devoted parent.

"Pop?"

"When the expedition teams come back, I want you, Graven, and Sasha to be the first to leave." The other shifted to face him but he kept his gaze on Graven and Sasha, watching that familiar face out of the corner of his eye as he explained, "I need you three to be safe, just in case something goes wrong. You and Graven are well equipped to be part of the first settlers if it gets that dire. I will join you when I am able to."

"Pop."

The word was choked, thick with too many words to speak at once. He fought against the instinct to close his eyes against the wave of sorrow but only half succeeded as his eyelids fluttered as he sucked in a breath. "Please, Kyle. I lost your mother. I can't lose you or yours, too."

The room was full of the sound of excited children and adults that were clearly happy but were subdued by the weight of reality. He was glad the children weren't affected.

"When the wind catches the sail just right," his son spoke, the words soft and familiar, "lean all your weight on the line so that you don't lose what you've just caught."

"Ease up on the tension as the body of the ship changes direction till the stem of the ship is pointed true," he continued, his heart going out to all around him. He prayed they survived and thrived.

"Don’t trust the sky for she may lie at times," Sasha spoke, voice aged as she remembered those that been there before her, those that had made sure they had all made it safe to their new world. She yanked on the rope but the sure hands of her daughter and grandson held most of the weight. "Tie the lead off when you've matched the movement of the sea."

"For that will guide you more true than any stretch of air could till night brings the guiding stars," echoed among her daughter and grandson, the words echoing silently from the generations before. Sasha closed her eyes against the sea breeze as her family took control of the ship and wondered if her Gee-ma would have been proud of what had become of those that had chosen to remain planet side. She hoped that her Gee-ma was proud of Sasha and happy wherever souls went after death with Gee-pa, Adma, and Omna at her side.

"Gee-ma!" She opened her eyes, catching sight of her grandson. He beamed at her, pointing towards the dimming horizon. "The Guiding Stars are back."

She smiled, ruffling that head of earth toned curls that reminded her of her own Adma and Gee-pa. "Then let us set course. We do have to get back home eventually."

That youthful face beamed up at her, joyous and free.
Noises bombarded him from every side - shouts of pain or cries of attacks, the constant crackling of fires no matter where he turned, the ring of metal against metal, the thunderous rumbles of stone walls collapsing - were drowned out by his pulse in his ears.

"There's nothing more we can do."

There was a strange heaviness to the silence and those within the room gave the speaker desperate looks. Whatever they were expecting never came to pass because despair quickly took over and they started to crumble inward.

He shook his head, adamant as he countered, "There has to be something. We can't just accept this."

"What else is there to do!" one of the old men barked. He met that old man's glare with a steady gaze. "You're a fool to believe there's anything left. We've lost, boy. Accept it."

"No," he stated, standing firm. "I'll die a fool before I roll over just because we're out of ideas." His gaze returned to the original speaker. "There has to be something we can do to delay them long enough to let us regroup and try again. Please, Lord Nero. There has to be something."

A chunk of the floor above came down around him and his shoulder collided painfully with the stone wall as he dodged the flaming debris. Cursing, he kicked at a burning beam blocking his way. If he didn't free himself now, he'd be too late.

If he wasn't already.

"Father."

He brought his gaze up from the fire he was staring at, watching as the daughter of Lord Nero closed the door. Lord Nero rose from his chair and crossed to meet her. Her hands sought his as he asked, "What is it, my dear?"

"There was talk about not having a plan, of how everyone was going to die." Despite the unease in her words, her expression was hard, determined. "Is that true? Is there nothing more you can do?"

Lord Nero shook his head. "We are almost out of resources and the numerous amounts of injured and dead that have dwindled our numbers. Unless I can convince others to join our cause, we will not survive another attempt."

"What if I could get you the time?"

The beam finally gave and he stumbled over loose stone into the once again clear hallway. He took off at a run, his throat tight.

He should have fought it. He should have figured out a different plan. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair!

"I don't know if this will work."

He glanced at her without turning his head, feigning interest in the celebration before them. The ballroom was packed with people and tables, the center floor that had been clear for people to dance packed with twirling bodies. There were so many colors from all of the gowns, it was like getting slapped in the face by a rainbow and then some. He wasn't sure how much longer he could refrain from doing something that would compromise their mission. "Say the word and I will take you right back to your father," he promised. He shifted forward, a smile on his face as he gave her a coy look. "But I would suggest at least giving him a chance to dance with you. He's been eyeing you all night."

She sniffed in distaste. "He should have the balls to come ask me for a dance regardless of how hot my escort is."

He laughed at that, a full, rich laugh that hadn't escaped him in a very long time. He grinned at her. "Come now, m'Lady. It is nothing if not rude to be biased like that. I am, after all, practically your brother. Saying such things would give others the wrong impression."

She sniffed again but the gleam in her eyes told him he had been successful in shifting her mood. "I still think he could do better."

He chuckled, glancing to the man - well, young man the same age as him, if he was not mistaken - they were speaking about and smiled. "It would seem he has finally gained those balls you so eloquently stated he needed to grow."

Silence settled between them as the young man approached. He watched as the young man's eyes strayed from the young woman at his side to him a few times but gave his full attention to her when he approached.

He watched them walk out onto the dance floor, a bitter taste in his mouth as loathing and disgust for that young man churned in his gut.

He bodily slammed into the door and nearly lost his footing when it gave under his weight. The room was eerily empty considering that the whole ordeal started in that room. His gaze shot around the empty space looking for any signs of the ones he was looking for as his chest heaved with every gasp, feet never slowing.

Nothing.

Fear and relief were a toxic mix in his chest.

"Abraxis, what are you doing?"

He looked down from where he sat, book in hand. Standing below him was the young man. "Reading," he stated blandly, gesturing with the book to make a point.

The young man huffed at him. "I can see that. Why are you reading up there?"

He turned his attention to the surrounding branches. "Why not?" he asked back down. Barely a week in the young man's presence and he already wanted to strangle him. How was Emrynth tolerating him?

Again, the young man huffed. "There are plenty of chairs down here."

"But I would be disrupting you and Mistress Ryn's time together."

The young man's expression became surprisingly emotionless. "Lady Ryn has retired to the castle."

Like he needed to be told. She had signaled for him to stay put as she left. "And you're not following?"

The young man looked away, clearly offended by being called out. "I was quite content with being in your company for the time being. Lady Ryn wanted her space and I'm in no hurry to deny her that."

He slipped from his branch and made his way back down to the solid earth below. His landing was a soft, solid thud on both feet but the young man wouldn't look at him. "I am not the greatest company, Your Highness. I'm sure Mistress Ryn has tol-"

"Use my name." He stopped talking, letting the young man before him continue with cheeks still pink. "When we're alone or with Lady Ryn, call me by my name."

"Your Highness," he started but the other shook his head violently.

"No. You're important to her," the young man snapped. There was a slight shift in the other's expression and the following words seemed stilted. "And if you are going to be around, it seems improper for you to remain so formal with me when you are less formal with her, especially in private settings."

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him and the indignant look that crossed the other's face was endearing. With a tight smile and a low, mocking bow, he offered, "As you wish, Prince Vanell."

There were a few castle guards in the hallway but the floor was littered with those from the castle and a faction he didn't recognize. He tried not to drown in despair as he kept running.

"Hey, Van," he drawled, dropping the book on top of the Prince's head. "You were supposed to meet us in the garden. Lady Ryn said to tell you she has grown bored waiting and went horseback riding with your little brother instead."

"Oh." Ice hit the pit of his stomach. "I hope they have fun."

Something was wrong. Setting the book down, he leaned closer to try and catch the Prince's gaze. "Hey," he softly spoke. When that didn't work, he gently pressed the back of his fingers into the other's shoulder, withdrawing the touch when he gained the Prince's full attention. "What's wrong?" At a thought, he amended, "What happened?"

Prince Vanell stared at him for a moment before looking away. "They're not expecting Father to make it to morning."

He sucked in a breath, sharp and painful, and, for a fleeting moment, he couldn't remember why he had ever thought that Prince Vanell - still a bit spoiled but happily learning - was any sort of villain. It was clear in those tear filled eyes hollowed out by despair that the Prince was nothing like the image the kingdom saw. He pulled away as a familiar fury burned through him, hiding it from the Prince's eyes. All his rage was aimed at the current man sitting on the throne impersonating a dying King in order to keep the kingdom and other regions ignorant of the truth. And it was working. No one was questioning if the King was himself or not. Not when his twin brother looked and sounded just like him.

He swallowed thickly and asking the stars for more time.

"Why don't we go gather your brother and Lady Ryn and go spend the day with your father, then," he offered around a lump in his throat.

There was a choked sob from the Prince's direction and it clenched at Abraxis's heart as tears sprung to his own eyes. He crossed back over to the Prince, placed a heavy hand on the other's shoulder, and quickly found his arms full of a sobbing Prince. He held on with all he had, begging the stars to just give them till summer, to let the King live till the spring days gave way to the summer's heat.

A skirmish cropped up in his way and he ducked around a widely swung sword.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, your Highness," he offered weakly. The Prince looked up from the book he had been reading softly out lout to the King and his little brother. The King's eyes were closed and the man's chest rose and fell as if in sleep. On the sleeping man's other side the Prince's younger brother by many years was curled into the King's side. His heart went out to both of them. "Lady Ryn was wondering if you would join her for dinner." Her stitching ring bounced off of his shoulder and he flinched, amending, "Ok, so I wanted to make sure you were going to eat dinner tonight and not waste away in a dark room."

"I don't-" the Prince started with a hint of bite, but a wheezy voice cut in.

"You are Abraxis, yes?" that wheezy voice asked.

He tried getting through without facing off with anyone but he didn't get very far before he was forced to draw his sword in order to keep his head.

His gaze went immediately to the King. The eyes blearily looking his way were the same color as the Prince's and just as vibrant even near Death's clutches. "Yes, Your Majesty," he responded with an awkward bow.

"My sons speak highly of you and the Lady Ryn," the King explained, a smile pulling weakly at the man's face. "Vanell is quite taken by you."

"Father!" Prince Vanell wailed, though his voice didn't get overly loud as he buried himself behind his book.

The King chuckled, though it caused his breathing to rattle and wheeze. "Abraxis."

He gave a cry of frustration and rage as another soldier got in his way. Already he was delayed with the last four, he didn't need to deal with more. With a vicious swipe of his sword, he took out as many in his way as he could, pressing forward.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

He broke through the fight.

"Watch over my two boys for me," the ill man croaked, voice weak at the edges as tears gathered at the corners of those tired eyes. "Help Vanell to be happy when he gains the throne."

He gave a strangled scream when more blocked his way.

His throat closed at that. Was the King insinuating what he thought he was? He hadn't even humored the idea, let alone spoken about it with the Prince. Certainly Vanell and Emrynth were as in love as they appeared.

He charged with every intent of slicing his way through.

Right?

Someone or several someones came to his aid but he didn't take the time to check. He took the opening and ran.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

The roar of his pulse obscured any noise sent his way anyways.

Their laughter mingled in the air as they crashed to the grass. It was all he could do to stay awake, though, as both his gasping for air and laughter petered out. The spring winds were pleasantly warm, the sun equally so, and it made him even more drowsy than their sparring alone. A small part of him was aware that summer time was approaching, which meant that they were almost out of time.

"Hey, Abraxis?"

He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes closed as he tried to hang onto the moment.

"Don't hate me, ok?"

He slammed bodily through another door, colliding with a number of bodies and hitting the ground with them.

Unfamiliar lips pressed against his for a brief moment. He opened his eyes as Vanell pulled away but he didn't let the Prince go far. With a careful but swift hand, he burying his fingers in the other's hair. "I could never hate you," he urged honestly. "But what of Ryn?"

He brought his head around as the bodies under him tried to disentangle themselves from each other.

His eyes found who he was looking for and screamed.

Vanell's face turned scarlet and the Prince pressed his face into Abraxis's shoulder to hide it. "She's been trying to get me to actually speak up for months now. We've been pretending for my Uncle's sake."

Something within him twisted. "Van, there's-"

There was a shout from the castle and Abraxis's insides went cold.

"Vanell!"

The mass of bodies gave and he was at the Prince's side as Emrynth clashed swords with the Tyrant King. His shaking hands pressed on the Prince's wound gaining a strangled cry from the Prince. "You idiot," he choked out. "You were supposed to leave the fight to us!"

Vanell coughed before managing, "Is Ryn alright?"

"Of course she is," he snapped. "She knows to block a sword with a weapon, not her body."

Vanell gave a huff of a laugh, several faint coughs chasing after it. "And my brother?"

"Safe with your Father," he assured him but the tears still came and the sob choked him. This was all his fault.

Vanell smiled weakly as he raised a bloody hand up to touch Abraxis's cheek. "I'm glad...I finally kissed you...before this."

He gave a laugh but it was hollow. "Make it through this and you can kiss me all you want."

Vanell's weak smile grew as the Prince's hand fell back to the floor and Abraxis begged the stars with all his being that Vanell would wake up after this.

[ArtisticVicu]

August 2019
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

New way of doing things this round.

Be advised:
It may be interlaced with fandoms.
It can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find that it needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know.

Prompt
Have you ever woken up in the middle of a very vivid dream, confused as to what was your reality? The moments that tick by are filled with confusion until you can finally shake that feeling and start your day. Well, I think that is what is happening to me, but the only difference is I can't seem to wake up. My dream has become my reality and each day I struggle to understand what is happening to me and how to escape it. If only there was a way out...

…because I don’t know how much longer I can keep going.

At first this whole dream thing had started out like any other strange, unusual thing. Forced to travel in order to stay alive, I found myself in some enchanted castle in a kingdom that was like some far off fantasy within and of itself. The last, I don’t know, two years now have passed in a blur of challenges overcome and friendships created.

I was hoping that one relationship would have blossomed into something more, into something I had never dreamed would have been possible for me when I was back home, but now as I stare with the rest of the crowd towards the group of people storming in, I can’t help but feel as if this wonderful dream has suddenly taken a turn I had thought was no longer a possibility.

"Orion!" one of the ones near the front greets happily. "It has been quite some time, old friend. You've grown well."

"Indeed it has, Abraxis," he responds easily, a look on his face that I can't understand from my angle. He looks pleased, at ease even, despite the tension still in his body. "Though, I must admit, I would have loved to have discovered you gave up that habit of yours of barging into any room you wish to enter."

The group of people cross right up to the foot of the stairs he’s standing at the top of as the one he had called Abraxis laughs. I want to reach out, to ask him if he knows the others, but too many eyes are on us. The one in the lead bows low, offering with a breathy sort of tenor, “I apologize for the intrusion, Your Majesty.” I flinch at the term. I’m still not used to the idea that he’s a King and the thought of such a man being interested in me highly unlikely and the reminder deflates my mood instantly. I try and not let it show outwardly. I had promised him my support, hadn’t I? The leader straightens. "We attempted to reign in King Abraxis's...ah, habit, as you've kindly named it, but we're not overly successful."

He chuckles at that. "I'm not surprised. He's quite like the symbol of his country."

The leading figure dips their head. "If I may, I understand that this is an important event but there are things we must talk about before things become dire.”

He shifts forward in his curiosity and concern, both plainly written on his face for even me to see. That urge to grab at him returns. “What do you mean?” His gaze goes to the only figure he's named. "Abraxis?"

"I would hear them out, old friend," the other King offers cryptically.

The leader bows again. “I am Prince Relaeh, first in line of the Kingdom of Holtem."

“Holtem?” a voice cuts in, stilling this Prince Relaeh's words. I look to Adonis and find the surprise on his face. “But that mean you either sailed through the Brond Ocean to our borders or you traversed through Lyor.”

“Neither,” one from the center interjects. “We came in from the north.”

That gains a look of confusion from him. Tension pulled at his shoulders like he was readying for a fight. “What business did you have in Zryn?”

The same person from the center shakes their head. “In private quarters, please. We’ll be on our way if this truly does not concern you and let your festivities continue.” A pause. “Asteria is a beautiful kingdom with wonderful people. Please. We don’t want to see this all be unprepared for what may come.”

The air fills with the soft murmur of the crowd as he just stands there, looking down on the group. I can't tell what he's thinking, can't piece together the nuances that I know are probably there. He blinks and his expression settles into a determined resignation. That dreamlike feeling returns but not in the good way. I can't tell if it's making me want to cry or scream. He nods, looking to Adonis. “Lead them to one of the rooms. I will follow when I am done here.”

Adonis gives a low bow. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

I step up to his side as Adonis bids the group to follow. “Orion?” I ask. “Where do you want me?”

His hand slips around mine, fingers warm and his grip firm. “Follow Adonis,” he offers in a whisper. “I just want to offer a few words to the people present before I join you.” His grip tightens briefly. "And stay near Adonis. I don't trust Abraxis to not have fallen in with a bad crowd."

I give a shallow nod of my head as I breathe in reply, “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes but I don’t want to bring myself to put a name to it. I step away and start after the tail end of the group as his voice fills the air around me. It fades the farther into the hallway I walk and it hurts.

Adonis is waiting for me at the door. There’s a look in his eyes I can’t decipher even if I wanted to. “It’ll be ok, Xavier,” the other tries. “He won’t stray from you.”

I give a tight smile. He can’t promise that.

I enter the room and stop far enough in that I don't prevent Adonis from closing the door. But as it clicks shut, doubt washes over me even as I keep my eyes on the group watching me. Had Adonis followed me in or was he staying out in the hall leaving me to fend for myself against this swarm of strangers. Relief shudders through me when he comes into sight on my right. He doesn't stray far from the door, though, which keeps him close to my side. I'm grateful that he's there. "Please give my King a moment to settle things and then he will be right with you."

"It's quite alright," Prince Relaeh replies. "As long as he eventually arrives, that's all that matters. Hopefully our matter will not intrude too far into your King's matters and we can part shortly after his arrive."

"What is an Endromean doing here?"

I lock eyes with the speaker, finally gaining a face for the voice that had spoken up from the center of the crowd earlier. Appearing female to me is a young adult who, if I'm not mistaken, is barely beyond her teens. Her skin is pale - paler than mine, even - and her black hair seems darker because of it. Her eyes are sharp, though, and her lips have a healthy red coloring to them so it doesn't seem like she fights for any needs but the look she's giving me is distrustful.

"Xavier is seen as an esteemed guest, if not part of this castle outright," Adonis informs her, his words sharp and clearly stating how offensive her prejudice against me was.

I'm touched, really, but we don't need to be fighting with them. "Adonis," I try, but the door opens behind us and I turn to see Orion in the doorway, a dark look on his face. I'm pretty confident that the glare aimed over my shoulder is locked on her.

"If I so much as get the impression that you will bring harm to him, I will have you thrown out of this kingdom directly into the hands of the Endromeans to the south," Orion threatens, a growl at the edge of his voice.

"Please, Your Majesty," Prince Relaeh cuts in, moving to place himself between us and the pale young woman. "Forgive Indarra's for her tactless words. Despite our distance, Endrom has been a constant threat to Holtem and she has been through enough to warrant an answer despite her brash words."

I jump when his hand wraps around the part of my shoulder and neck where my burn scars were hidden by my high collared jacket. A chaotic blend of far too many emotions rushes through me but his hand is there, solid and reassuring, soothing some of the storm. "Xavier is estranged from Endrom. He is no more an Endromean as I am now."

Her eyes narrow but she says nothing. Prince Relaeh nods before looking to a few of the others. "Shall we get started then?"

Orion guides me to the loveseat and sits down with his arm across the back of the loveseat. I don't trust any of the strangers as old fears that had been beaten into me at a young age came rearing their ugly faces in the wake of the strangers' presence. I sit down at the other side of the small couch, placing distance between us but not looking like I was avoiding him.

Fortunately for me, Orion was having none of it. He grabs my far shoulder and pulls me into his side, his face finding my hair over my left ear as the group settles. "Don't," he whispers, though what specifically, I can only guess at till he elaborates. "They cannot harm you and any looks they send your way I'll gladly return ten fold."

A breathy laugh escapes my chest and I swallow thickly. It does nothing to quell the old fears. "I'm not of proper standing," I try just as softly but his hold tightens. It's confirmation enough that I'm going to loose this verbal battle. I can't tell if I'm ok with losing or not.

"Doesn't matter. You're still recovering and if you pass out in the middle of this, I want you against me." I suck in a shuddering breath, a strange sensation filling my stomach. "It's safer this way, anyways."

He turns his head and focuses back on the crowd before us. The couch looks uncomfortably full - including an armrest - but none move to take up a different chair and the other loveseat is equally occupied with both armrests acting as seats. The three remaining have pulled over the table chairs and were situated between the loveseats and couch.

"So who all is present?" Orion asks, his arm settling more naturally around me. I lean into his side, taking the reassurance from his soft, most likely unconscious rubbing of my arm.

Prince Relaeh leans against the far arm of the couch, looking around at who sat where before starting at the chair farthest from us. "In the chair by Abraxis is Nox from Zryn." I could feel Orion tensing at that, though I couldn't tell why the other reacted so. Relaeh had to have seen it because he continues with, "I'll explain later but it was actually Abraxis who wanted to get Nox."

Abraxis nods from where he is lounging on the armrest of the loveseat next to the chair. "There's a larger story, Orion. Lets finish introductions first."

Orion lets out a breath. "Alright. And the others?"

"Beside Abraxis is Pedro, a friend of Abraxis's." At these words, Abraxis wraps an arm around the what looked to be very young man and shakes him roughly, though the very young man grins at the gesture. The girl sitting next to him grins too. "Then er'Rath, a friend of my sister Indarra, and this is Temeran, also my sister."

The young woman sitting on the armrest beside Indarra dips her head to the side. "There's a lot of siblings here, seeing as all eight of us somehow managed to join the trip." She sends a glare at the four sitting squished together on the couch, all of whom start giggling immediately. The second one from Relaeh seems almost hesitant with joining the collective giggling, though.

Relaeh breaks the disturbance by placing a hand on the shoulder of the most sedated looking member of the group. Where Nox is sedated in a more refined matter, this one is more of a depressed or disheartened sedation and my heart goes out to this stranger as Relaeh introduces, "This is Prince Skylar. He's part of the reason we're here."

There's no response from the young man and Relaeh sits back, looking down the couch. "The last five are my siblings as well. From me to the one in the chair is Furnix, Zaru, Verrin, Lithea, and Cytus. The ones on the couch are still children and should have stayed in Kreet."

Another glare but this draws outrage - or at least the desire to defend - from those on the couch. It's a roar of noise that lasts for a brief moment but I make out enough to understand that each one of them had come of their own will this far.

"Kreet?" I ask softly.

"The islands in the Brond Ocean where Abraxis is from," Orion explains patiently. He turns his attention back to the group. "Though I doubt introductions are needed at this point, I am King Orion of Asteria. The man standing is Adonis Arcane and the man beside me is Xavier. Now, with that out of the way, why are all of you here?"

That dreamlike feeling that had been twisting in my stomach eases into something a bit more pleasant and familiar. It's all still so strange but at least this way I have names to faces and soon we'll know why these strangers have come looking for Orion's help.

[ArtisticVicu]

September 2018
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

Catching up on past prompts.

Be advised:
Some are interlaced with fandoms.
Some can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find one that needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know.

The wind brought the heat of the sand along with its cool touch. It curled around him like a friend and he smiled in the shadow of his hood as the wind played with the hem of his cloak. He waited till the wind moved on, pulling gently at him and encouraged him to follow.

He lifted his foot from the sand where it had sank just a bit and started to follow.

The sun flickered high above for a long time. He barely noticed as his shadow went from behind him to in front of him, trading places with the sun. As he crested the first roll of the land that was stone rather than sand, the wind's touch had turned colder, bringing with it the promise of night.

He turned to look towards the setting sun, watching as it touched the horizon and started to sink below.

The rolling sands were coming to life for the brief moment between burning day and freezing night. Creatures he could only fathom drifted among the dunes a stark darkness against the brilliant sunset. Some moved ever so slow that they seemed like the shadows of traveling dunes rather than a separate thing. Others moved with such speed that he marveled at their ability to move such in the dying light of the sun.

The last of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon's edge and the wind brought him the cold air of night and the heat still rising from the sands. He took a breath when it brushed against his face. It smelled of heat and cold, of sand and rock. He opened his eyes, turned, and started walking again.

The wind pulled at him gently, coaxing him on even as night rested heavily on his shoulders like the day never did. He tore his gaze from the path ahead of him to the horizon like, seeking a light he knew should be there soon.

He stumbled. His gaze flickered down out of trained habit. When his eyes came back up when his feet were on surer ground, the light he had been seeking had risen into the sky. The horizon released its hold on the moon and he smiled at it from the depths of the darkness in his hood. Night's weighed eased some as the moon accompanied the wind in coaxing him on.

The first ruins appeared when his shadow was coiled tightly under him at the moon's beckoning. He didn't stop but his footfall became more rapid, more sure. This way and that he weaved, eyes now searching for something that should be there, that had been promised to him.

She was sitting on what had once been a stone wall several stories tall; the sand had buried most of that height on the side he approached. Beyond the edge, though, he could see the drop into the vast valley below. It was a sheer drop for far too many stories and the ruins at the base of that sheer drop spoke of the ground suddenly sinking long after the buildings had become ruins but not so soon that the sand hadn't come and buried most of the deep valley with a good amount of sand.

He stepped up to her side and sat on the wall's edge only to swing his legs over and sit facing the same way she was.

The wind danced around them and he smiled, catching sight of her auburn hair getting caught up in the wind's dance like a halo of moonlit fire behind her peaceful expression. The shadow of his hood was thick but he knew she would be aware of his eyes on her; the only thing that ever seemed to cut through that darkness was the light of his eyes.

She didn't speak and he kept on watching her hair dance with the wind.

The shadows from the moonlight were long, stretching towards the horizon they faced as the horizon slowly changed. He briefly wondered if she could perceive its change, too.

She shifted on that edge, farther forward that he was comfortable and it was instinct that had his fingers ensnaring the back of her vest. An edge of her cloak slipped free from where she had it bundled beneath her and snapped behind her like a colorless flag. She smiled at him as her weight shifted back.

"You don't have to catch me, you know."

He found it difficult to let go now that he knew she was solid. Something deep in his chest burned and her words hurt in a way he would never be able to articulate properly.

"I'm not sure I could let you go a third," he spoke poorly, his hand curling into his chest. Two others covered it as he placed his weight into the one gripping the wall between their hips. All four of his hands were as sharp as stars in the shadows of his body and the surrounding hills.

She chuckled and the wind slowed till it was barely touching her hair and his face. She covered the hand between them, her sand darkened skin muted in the half light and nearly as dark as the stone they sat on compared to his starlight white. "Then don't."

She slipped from the edge of the wall, cloak tightly grasped in her other hand and a grin lighting up her face. Despite not being physically attached to his body, her sudden weight still pulled him off the wall and he wrapped his three other hands around her one, hanging on desperately as the wind rushed passed them filled with her glee. It pulled at him and pulled at his hood, ridding him of its shadow.

The stone shifted to sand and the sand created a drift that her feet touched first. His touched it farther down than hers but they were against that wall of sand long before it curved towards the valley. They slid down the drift of sand till it leveled out to the point that she was forced to take a few bounding steps to keep her balance at the change in momentum. His footfall wasn't quite as sure as hers and he stumbled. Her hold was sure, though, and he remained upright enough to come to a stop before her.

"Must you?" he gasped out despite lacking the need to breathe. His entire being thrummed in a way that confused him and he wasn't sure if it was fright or exhilaration that pounded through him so.

She laughed. The sound was melodious in its strange way, and oddly contagious. He found himself joining her even if it was just a few suppressed chuckles that were probably more out of his fried nerves than whatever she was feeling.

"Always," she answered, her breathes rushing into her heaving lungs. Her auburn hair that had whipped like the cloak still clutched in her hand looked fuller now that the wind had ran its fingers through it and tousled it about quite vigorously.

Two of his hands left the one he was still clinging to and buried themselves in those tangled locks in an attempt to bring order back to her hair. She made no move to still his touch, to pull away, and that burning deep in his chest seemed to spread out like a glass ball shattering from the inside out.

His touch did nothing to change the halo of hair around her face and he withdrew all the hands he could.

She was still holding onto the one she had initially grabbed.

"Why are you here?" she asked gently, her smile still prevalent and loving. It was like ice water had been poured into his center and that burning quickly turned to a sharp pain. "Don't you have a country to run?"

"It does not need me," he offered in return, one white hand reaching up to brush against her cheek.

She leaned into that touch with eyes closing for that beat of a moment. When her eyes opened, her eyes were looking into his. "You shouldn't abandon it for me. You're doing so much good right now."

He recoiled from that. "Am I, though? Am I not just making things worse by running it?"

Her smile returned but it was soft and still so full of love. "This is what has come of places that do not have your touch or the touch of others so I would say that you are doing quite well."

"But you are not here with me."

Her gaze dropped at that and she reached up covering his hand with hers. "And we both know that it's for the better."

The first streams of sunlight broke past the horizon line without him realizing how close the sun had come to rising. It shone right through her, illuminating the sand, rocks, and ruins behind her without touching her. Her gaze turned towards the west but he didn't need to look - didn't want to look - to know that only his shadow would be stretched high up the face of sand and stone they had slid down.

"I've stayed too long," she spoke evenly, like all she was doing was returning home for the brief time they would be apart.

He did not have the same faith that she seemed to have in it being a brief separation.

She reached up and despite appearing not solid, her hands wrapped around the edge and underside of what constituted as his head.

Just as his hands were not physically attached to his body, neither was his head. His form had shoulders and the start of a neck. Floating above the base of a neck roughly where a normal human's head rested upon its neck was a white mass. It was similarly shaped to that of a skull without all the details and indents. Smooth and round coming to a rounded point as a sort of chin, the only thing on that white shape that had any sort of motion to it were his eyes. They were in the same place as human eyes but were more like two solid shapes painted onto the white surface, absolute in their color and able to change shape in order to communicate emotions. There was no mouth yet his speaking was interpreted like normal speech despite it being telepathy; it was still 'heard' in the same manner, the sound of it changing depending on the space and distance because that was how it was interpreted.

Even now as she guided his head down to be level with his shoulders, his body moved to accommodate the motion. Her lips pressed against his forehead and he let his eyes close, feeling like he was breaking all over again.

"I'm so proud of you," she offered as she pressed their foreheads together. "I can't wait to see you again so keep doing good so that you can tell me all about it when we see each other again."

A choked sob shook his body and all four hands hit the sand just as hard as his knees did. Despite no lungs to breathe, despite not being physically similar to humans in any way beyond vague shape, he cried with tears just like they did and felt the pain of grief probably more sharply than they did.

Humanity had left its mark on him and it hurt. He let that hurt turn into wails as the sun rose higher into the brilliantly blue sky.
The noise of the Pad Hall was a dull roar as she passed through the crowd, weaving this way and that between the bodies filling the space. The rich emerald of her normally sharp and alert eyes was dulled as she barely focused on the in-between space, a soft smile on her lips as she moved with the ebb and flow of the crowd around her.

So many minds in one space and yet tracking her eight teammates was like holding onto a tethered balloon in the heart of an amusement park. Other balloons bumped against hers but she always knew which ones belonged to her and the image made her giggle. A soft thought brushed against her mind encouraging her to focus.

It wasn't like she had to.

Any mind she had ever delved into beyond a simple 'are you who I'm looking for brush' she could find in a sea of minds far larger than the one she was in and then some. As if to prove her thoughts true, she blinked, focusing back on the world to come face to face with the person she had been looking for, their mind a brilliant beacon for her to find despite how much they had been trying to hide.

But maybe they were aware of how inevitable it was of her finding them, for they looked back at her with a calm resolution on their face as they braced against the crowd. The crowd parted and circled them, clearing a round space that held just the two of them. She smiled as she brushed the other's mind and the noise of Pad Hall vanished as his thoughts rolled beneath the barrier that kept them from her.

"I'm not going back," he spoke evenly into their little bubble of privacy.

The one that had sent that thought to her earlier reached out for her again mentally, but she pushed back patience. The other ceded but only after giving her a time limit.

"You might not get a choice," she offered just as evenly, shrugging. "I can't stop them and this call wasn't something we could ignore."

He scoffed. "Yes it was."

"Truly?" She tipped her head forward and slightly to the side, her shoulders coming up as she kept hold of his gaze. "You know them far better than I do, then." She straightened, that smile still on her lips. "But I wouldn't put it past you to keep tabs on that sort of thing."

A part of his mask cracked and chipped away. His expression twisted into one of pleading for a moment. "Please, Rachel. I can't go back."

That other mind brushed against hers again. She sent back patience again. It gave her an update of what time remained.

"Why not? Certainly you of all people should understand having to face the consequences of your actions."

Another crack, another chip, and rage rushed over his expression. It felt more like frustration and self loathing under the mental connection. "Of course I do! But if I go back, they will destroy all the good I had done!"

"Do you know that?"

"Of course I do!"

"Truly?"

Another crack but it held together as his expression returned to one of neutrality. "Reiterating myself will not solve anything." His sharp gaze was on her again. "Let me leave, Rachel."

She let her expression reflect how serious she was as she stated, "I can't, Michael. You have to come with us."

Betrayal made that crack larger and the largest piece yet chipped away from his mask. Any more cracks and it would come apart completely. "I'm not going back, Rachel, and you can't make me."

That mind was back with a soft brush against hers. She returned it with reassurance. "That's why I'm not making you."

Through the exposed places of his mask she saw the confusion and his mind trying desperately to stay several steps ahead of her; the mask itself fought to keep his expression fierce. It didn't matter as the owner of that familiar mind came up behind Michael and wrapped their long arms around him. He stiffened, ready to fight and flee, but a face was pressed into the hair just behind his ear whispering words that she knew the meanings of despite not being able to physically hear them. Just as equally she understood how Michael was reacting to every word despite being stone faced and ridged in that hold.

Another body stepped up behind Michael but this newcomer - a duplicate of the one holding Michael - only stood guard over the pair's backs.

Two bodies came into the circle from the left, both with tight expressions though the shorter's expression was edged with anger. At what, she didn't care to find out. From the right entered a second set of twins but this brother and sister set were not duplicates of the other and both were far more expressive than the twins with Michael. And, finally, the last two of her teammates came up from behind her. Unlike those before her that appeared human, the two that came up from behind her were anything but. One pressed into her leg shaped like a medium sized dog but had antlers and a narrower snout. The other pressed into her back as its front legs gripped at her right shoulder, long sinew body snaking down her back with its fluffy tale wrapped around her left hip and its neck curved backwards so that its small head was level with her temple.

That mask cracked again and fell apart, leaving Michael bare.

Her hand buried itself into the fur of the not-dog's neck, her touch on the crowd strengthening as Michael suddenly broke down. The only thing keeping him upright was the arms still tight around him.

"What now?" the short one from the left asked, drawing her attention away from the scene.

"Back to the car," she responded easily.

The short one's expression darkened. "Clearly but that wasn't what I was asking."

She grinned. "I know. I'll decide in the car if Adhara doesn't already have a plan."

The other's gaze flashed dangerously and she let her amusement soften her expression. "Why are you deciding?"

Rachel arched an eyebrow at her. "Because I'm the only one that can read thoughts, remember? I know what's going on and where we have to go. It's more of whether or not it'll be safe that will change that plan."

[ArtisticVicu]

September 2019
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

New way of doing things this round.

Be advised:
It may be interlaced with fandoms.
It can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find that it needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know.

Prompt
September 14, 2019

This is a first for me...writing in a journal...but I have little to do now but this. My friends are gone...my family...and I don't even know where I am. I was forced to leave my house two days ago. They broke in...forced us out...and now...

Well, now I am in someone else's house. It's empty, but the dead are outside at the moment and I know they will get in eventually and I will have to run again. My brother is most likely dead, as are my two friends...and it seems so much worse now that I am alone. I'm not sure if we got separated or if the dead got them. We all ran in a blind panic! Two days...seems so long ago now. The dead...they are not slow like in the movies. They run and never seem to tire. I'm not sure how I will survive, but at least I have a place to rest. Rainbows and unicorns...lol. That's what I'm looking at now...the room I am in is decorated for a toddler. Somehow it is calming and makes the sounds of the hands slapping against the house's side more tolerable.

I will try to get some sleep and travel in the morning...my time is up here. At least I had a day without their noise. From what I have noticed so far, the dead don't seem as active during the day. Do they even sleep? I'm not sure...but I do need to...so I will try to write more tomorrow. Heaven knows it's better than doing nothing.

September 21st, 2020
I'm not the original writer and it took me a few days before I managed to find one of the calendars prior to Day Zero that included enough days into the following year for me to actually figure out what today's date was.




I can't believe it's been over a year now.

Life's been.....decent. Nothing compared to what had existed Prior but it's better than the poor soul who died in the child's bedroom. The whole place was so collapsed and returned to nature that I hadn't even realized there had been a house there to begin with till I fell through the rotting roof.

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. This book only has a few details in it but nothing on what happened after that date.

Maybe it's a good idea if I record it. Not that I'm certain anyone's going to be able to read my scribbling. I've been out of practice and the pencil had been a lucky find.


There had been many names for the things that swarmed the planet. There had been a major fight against calling them zombies - the original entry here calls them 'the dead' which was another common name - but in the end, zombie was the name that most will use now when recollecting those first few.....we'll call them months.

I didn't keep track of time during those months. The zombies surged across the planet like nothing many of us had been prepared for. Some held their own but it was clear that the human race was going to fall if something didn't change.

I was told that the zombie hoards had made it to every corner of the planet covering the land in shambling bodies that animals fled from. Attacks of any kind drew the hoards like piranha and the animals seemed to know this instinctively. Not that that kept some of them from attacking anyways.

But just as quickly as the wave of zombies suddenly sprang into existence, it died. Literally. The zombies just up and started dropping. They didn't even twitch as they hit the ground. In all of two hours, every zombie in existence was properly dead once more. It was.....strange. But with our numbers so scattered and small, the billions of bodies decayed and became part of the ecosystem. Some areas saw mounds of zombies become rolling hills or the scattered bodies become home to new trees. Whatever had made them move so swiftly seemed to have encouraged some rapid growth in the plant life but nothing that's been disconcerting. Or dangerous.

After that, there was no dead and the only task that came about was surviving. I had managed to make it on my own for those handful of months before I came across a town that had survived, more or less. If nothing else, there were other people there. I didn't stick around. Turned out it was a cult of sorts and I got out of there as quickly as I could with few new friends.

At the time there had only been four of us. Now there's eighteen; nineteen when Anna gives birth in a few weeks. We're lucky to have her around despite her condition. Mark is probably our strongest - yet sweetest - and he dotes on her making it so that she isn't even a burden on anyone but him and he would probably never call her a burden even as a joke. It's her brother, though, that's been the largest asset and why her pregnancy - though perilous - hasn't negatively impacted the group (Mark notwithstanding). Zach's a doctor. A really good, very knowledgeable doctor even with the lack of 'modern technology'.

Doesn't hurt that she can cook really well, either.

Most of us have our uses like that, which makes it easy for everyone willing to pitch in. Peter's a fricken horse whisperer despite his argument that anyone that had grown up on a farm could do what he does with the 'wild' ones we come across. I don't think we've had to walk for months now because of him. We've even got a few goats and a couple of chickens because of him but he says it was Jewel. - who, mind you, grew up in the city Prior. Jewel just coos at all the animals so no one's convinced she's had any part of it.

I'm still betting that the small pack of dogs and cats we have are because of her despite her nonchalant attitude about it. The way she commands them and the way they listens is like the livestock with Peter; they heed her command and answer her call as if she had raised them from birth. At this point, a few of them have been, but that's beside the point.

Lyle grew up on a farm too but he's shit with the animals. He's good with helping cultivate the edible supplies, though. He's not great at it but an extra hand that knows how to preserve things is always a large help. The fact that he has the patience and stamina to make butter is impressive in and of itself.

Tanner's good at making fabric from the wool. Bella mastered making thread for sewing despite her being just as good of a cook as Anna. She won't listen to anyone but I think Tanner enjoys the company.

Sam's a fricken compass and has yet to get us horribly lost. Sam's twin Luca is our cartographer and is brilliant at it. We trade duplicated maps at settlements and towns we pass through.

Cole's started figuring out how to work any metal we find. We still trade a lot of tools but he's good to have around for repairs. He's been able to fix just about everything we have. Well, anything that doesn't require sewing. I'm still not great at that but I'm the only one that knows enough of the 'how' to be able to actually keep up on repairs. Sam and Luca are learning and Tanner's not bad, but their patience never lasts long. I find it soothing.

It would seem Mark's starting to stir so my watch shift is over. This whole journal thing is weird but I think it would be cool to catalog what's happened.

Not that I did a good job with this entry. Kind of got talking about those around me.

Maybe that's a good thing. In this world beyond the Prior and Day Zero, that's all we have. Though I may have to explain -why- we're traveling rather than settling in some town.

Maybe tomorrow when I'm on watch again. If I can keep my brain from wandering.

[ArtisticVicu]

<moved and reposted>
<to be deleted>

[ArtisticVicu]

<moved and reposted>
<to be deleted>

[ArtisticVicu]

February 2020
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

New way of doing things this round.

Be advised:
It may be interlaced with fandoms.
It can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find that it needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know.

Prompt
Love is in the air

The mattress was nothing more than a pad stuffed full of soft things - no springs, no foam, just straw or down or wool - but he still woke her when he got up. He was like clockwork. Even if the sun was obscured by clouds or it was the heart of winter, he was always up at the same time every day. Bright and early to go for a run around the lake.

She used to join him. She used to be able to get up when he did and feel rested enough to go for the run. She used to be at his level of health, strong and fit, till she wasn't. It had been so gradual, she hadn't even noticed something was wrong till she nearly passed out trying to keep up with him.

Now she can barely muster enough strength to watch him dress before passing out again.

He wakes her with a cool hand at the base of her neck under all her hair. His hands are calloused and scarred from a life before all this and the life they've lived so far. She can smell breakfast - meat and bread and other savory things - but it churns her stomach and he knows. He helps her from her stomach on the bed to the chair he had built her when her body started failing her. He leaves her with the bowl of oatmeal. The smell of the brown sugar, milk, and oats doesn't churn her stomach like the smell of his breakfast had. There were fresh berries even and they added a pleasant tang.

She managed to finish off the bowl but she wasn't sure if that was due to her appetite or him giving her less than normal.

The days blending weren't helping anything.

He enters as she finishes, his expression curious yet tinged with concern. To others, he looks annoyed, pissed, but his features are harsh and don't lend well to the pleasanter expressions. Doesn't mean he can't smile or laugh or cry. She's seen every emotion humanly possible out of him since day one. She knew how careful he could be, how stubborn, how pigheaded and rude and loving. He had grown and changed as a person and she knew she was lucky to have seen it.

He takes the bowl from her as her thoughts wander. He takes it to the kitchen and returns. He doesn't say anything, doesn't look at her differently. He waits patiently as her thoughts come back to the present and she gets herself up.

His hands come forward as she wavers on her feet. She doesn't push them away. She had done that in the beginning. Now she knew better. She knew that even if she thought she was steady, she could fall, and she didn't want that pain.

He had seen her in worse states than this and he had stuck around. It had taken her even after a lot of those moments to shove her pride out the window and never look back.

His hands fall away as she steps past him.

He's right behind her, following her to the front door. She manages to open it - was she not able to yesterday? She couldn't remember - and steps out into the warm sun.

It's late spring, meaning the sun's almost up at the same time as he is every morning and is nice and warm by the time she manages to make it to the sunny side of the porch. She settles into the rocker there - he must have moved it after last night; she could remember watching the sun set from the other side of the porch - and watches as he continues off the porch towards the mess a few paces away. He's working on something again. She's not sure what but she's happy he's been enjoying woodworking. The last six years would have been excruciating if he hadn't found an outlet like woodworking.

She's not sure if the chill of the shade or him stepping up onto the porch wakes her but his gaze meets hers and he offers her a soft smile. He must have thought of something pleasant. Maybe he'll share.

"Feel up to a walk through town? I need to stop by the general store. I owe Marcus an update."

His voice is gravelly but not deep like some of the other men from the village - Torren, another woodworker, has a voice so deep, it can be felt in the ribs every time he talked - but it's low, soft spoken, and soothing. She offers a hum in return and starts to get up.

His arms are strong under her arms as he takes her weight without her speaking up. She goes with it. The rocking chair is nice but getting out of it was impossible now. He stands her on her own two feet but doesn't let go. He can feel the tremors in her muscles as she sags against him. It's easy for her arms to go over his shoulders, head nestled in the nook of her right arm and his head, with him being the shorter one. He barely even shifts as he takes her weight, his hands still on either side of her ribs.

Steadfast; was another good term for him.

She shifts and he helps her pull back. The tremors have subsided but she's tired. He can see it. His hand is in her hair again, cupping the side of her head. "You can stay."

She shakes her head. They've had this discussion before many times. "It'll be good for me."

He doesn't argue but he also doesn't agree. Instead of saying anything, he helps her back into the house. He's already dressed for the day but she's still in her sleep wear. She manages everything but the pants, socks, and shoes. His hands run over her ankles out of habit rather than concern, always checking to make sure she wasn't injured. She appreciates it.

He closes the cabin door and leads the way while staying at her side.

She makes it to the edge of town before his arm his around her waist, holding up her weight again.

The town is surprisingly festive. Not to say the town isn't normally bustling but there seems to be a different air to it. People seem to be more chatty, clustered in twos or threes more often than individuals. Full families wander through town, children playing, parents conversing, and it isn't till they pass the pastry shop on the way to the general store that she realizes why.

The chalk sign outside the bakery is covered in swirls and bubbly text. The header? 'Love is in the air'. It was the town's equivalent of Valentine's Day.

His arm tightened around her. She knows its because he had picked up on her sudden mood change. Not even a half a second after reading the sign does she hear, "It's such a shame she hasn't left him yet. He would do better with a wife that could actually give him a family than be a burden like her."

"Ignore them," he growls and she can't help but wonder what else he had heard. He could always hear far greater than she could. "They don't know anything."

She presses her face into his black hair. It was swept back in his favorite style, spiky all over the place and highlighting his deep widow's peak, but it was still soft and gave easily as she escapes the world by using his hair. It smells of him and wood and faintly of the oil he uses to get his hair to stay. "Maybe you should listen."

It wasn't the first time she had said it but it was certainly the first time in public. His hair guaranteed no one else but him heard it.

He moves so that they're facing each other and his hands move. Touch was something they both needed but their relationship was nothing like what others assumed. His hands were on her hips keeping her steady as he changed positions. Out of habit her arms went around his neck and he pulled her close. She buried her face in between her arm and his neck as his hold shifted into a massive hug. "I don't care what those idiots think. You have been with me since the beginning and understand far more than any of them can comprehend. I owe you my life and every day we share is precious to me."

The words are just as passionate and honest as the last seventeen times he's said them. Her arms weakly tighten around the back of his shoulders and he reciprocates. They were each other's family, best friend, partner through it all and that was what mattered. She knew that was what mattered but she knows that the townsfolk are just echoing words she had heard in her previous life. He had given her what she never thought had been possible and he wasn't taking that away any time soon.

The cooing from the onlookers makes her stomach churn and she feels more than hears his growl. He doesn't so much step back as gently aid her in moving back. The drive to make it to the general store is gone from her and he can see it. She knows he can by the way he takes her left hand into his left hand and how his other arm wraps around her lower back. He takes her weight without comment, without probably even a thought. When they enter the general store, Marcus is helping someone. In a few quick words, the shop owner is stepping away and guiding them to the back. He sits her where Marcus's directs but doesn't leave when Marcus steps back out. His hands are on hers, in her hair. His eyes are meeting her as he inquires, "How long do you want to wait before trying to get back home?"

She shakes her head. "I don't have a preference."

He kisses her forehead. "I'll carry you home when we're done then."

He steps out after Marcus. She lets herself wonder if he'll take the long way home or the direct way home.

Maybe she'll ask for the long way home. It was through the forest and not near gossipers. That and it was still probably full of spring flowers. It was probably still very pretty through there.

Yeah, he might like that too.

[ArtisticVicu]

March 2020
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.

New way of doing things this round.

Be advised:
It may be interlaced with fandoms.
It can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find that it needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know.

Prompt
Conquer your fear!


"Verena, get back here!"

A string of giggles escaped the small tiefling whose tail was nearly as long as they were tall. The tiefling dashed this way and that through the caravan, gigging every time the woman called out for them.

"Verena!"

The small body collided with another, causing the other to stumble as the tiefling fell backwards to land on their butt. A shout went up as the person the child had ran into yanked the tiefling back up and out of the way of the cart.

"Watch where yer playin', ya damn brat!" the driver barked.

The small body cowered in the protective embrace of a body not much bigger.

"Soren? What'chya got there?"

"Don' know, da'," the body holding the tiefling offered. "Ne just ran into me."

"Verena! There you are!"

The little tiefling flinched as rough hands pulled nem away from the other and a started cry escaped the little form. "Shush, Verena," came from the parent, chastising. "I'm so sorry Stoick. Is Soren alright?"

"I'm fine." The little tiefling looked over, meeting the curious gaze of a human child that was barely older than the tiefling child. A small voice in the little tiefling's mind spoke of how the human's eye color was wrong somehow. The human child didn't seem to notice or didn't care as it offered a hand like all the grownups do to strangers. "I'm Soren."

"Go on, Verena. Shake neir hand like a good boy."

The tiefling's lavender tail came around, a splotch of pale coloring like a paint splatter discoloring the tip. Said tip pressed into the offered palm and despite the chastising from the adults, Verena thought it was worth it to see the laughter that broke out across Soren's too grown up face.

"We'll be heading east at Alnrich."

Verena's tail slowly fell from its perked posture even as he felt Soren's body go tense under him. They were trying to sneak through the caravan as young children do playing whatever game they had made but they had heard Soren's dad and Verena's parents' voices drifting towards them in the night and had gotten curious. Soren had crouched at the back wheel of one of the wagons while Verena clung to his back still smaller than the other.

Verena buried his face into Soren's hair. It smelled of smoke and earth and held a comfort that made his heart ache at losing. His tail followed his emotions and wrapped securely around Soren's waist. The other rubbed comforting circles into the tail against neir stomach but didn't move.

"So soon?" Verena's mother asked.

There was a scoff from his father. "Let them leave if they want, Ilma. It is not our place to convince them to stay."

A rumble of a chuckle came from Soren's dad. "Soren will most likely fight me. We've stayed too long and ne's grown attached to Verena and the others."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Verena's mother asked.

"Whether it is or isn't doesn't change the fact that we have stayed too long. We will part ways at Alnrich."

"May the tides bring us back together."

Verena's mother added at the end of his father's words, "And may the winds bring you peace."

"Thank you, both of you."

"Hang on tight, Ren."

Verena jolted as Soren's sudden voice but did as coaxed. Soren dashed away from their parentals and deeper into the trees. They didn't go very far - they were still within the light of the main campfire - but it was far enough that if they didn't talk overly loud, they'd have privacy. Soren pulled at Verena's tail and hand, a silent sign to get down and in front of nem.

"I don't want you to go," Verena choked out, doing his best to keep his voice down. He pressed his face into Soren's chest and felt himself relaxing at the warmth he always found there.

Soren's arms, just as warm, wrapped around him. "I don't want to go either but Dad says its important to keep moving until home finds us."

Verena pulled his face away enough to look up at Soren, making his yellow eyes as big and watery as possible. "But isn't this home?"

Soren smiled. It was soft and left Verena thinking it was too grown up to be on Soren's face. "I think Dad wants a house that doesn't move, with fields and animals to tend. I don't think he ever wanted to be part of a traveling caravan."

Verena's arms tightened around Soren; his tail had hooked around Soren's left ankle. "What about you? Where do you wanna be?"

Soren shrugged. "With Dad. He's all I got left."

Something bitter and hot shot through him. "But what about me? I'm your family too."

That grown up face Soren had gotten so good at wearing fell away as hot tears - they hurt when they touched Verena's cooled skin but it was nothing the tiefling couldn't stand - streaked down the other's face. "But I can't leave my Dad. Verena-"

Something broke inside the little tiefling as whatever was supposed to follow his name was cut off by a vicious sob. Verena pulled at Soren and wrapped himself as best he could around the bigger kid. Soren held on, heat rolling off the other in a way that terrified Verena without him understanding why.

Stoick was the one that found them like that. The man's bushy face softened at Verena's pleading gaze and welcomed the gentle touch to his head as Stoick's other hand went to Soren's back. "Come on, kiddo. It's bedtime."

"Don' wanna go," Soren spat out into the mingling of their bodies.

"I know. But it won't be forever. Just a for now. Ok? You'll see Verena again."

Something like ice shot through Verena. He knew that wording. He glared at Soren's dad with all his might even as Soren pulled away enough to look up at neir dad. "Promise?"

Stoick smiled. Verena's hold on Soren tightened. "Promise. Come on, kiddo."

Every fiber of Verena's being was calling Stoick a liar as he let Soren slip from his grasp.

"Ren?"

Yellow eyes snapped away from those he was sitting with to lock onto a pair of eyes on a human face that weren't quite right.

"Do I know you?" he found himself asking even as the strings bit into his fingers; he was clenching the neck of his lute like it was a lifeline. His vision blurred only to clear when he blinked.

Why was he crying?

"Ah, sorry," the human with the off eyes offered. "You looked like an old friend of mine I haven't seen in years."

"Someone named Ren?"

The words were past his lips before he could stop them. There was something deep within him that was begging this human to say no, to say-

"His full name is Verena, but last I had seen him we were nothing but tots."

He choked on a sob, curling in on himself as his free hand snapped to his mouth. His tail with its pale tip came up and around, like it could add another layer of protection from whatever was pulling at him, drowning him in grief.

He heard his companions shout his name, knew this stranger knew his name now, but he couldn't face nem, couldn't even look at nem.

Someone tried to approach him.

He stumbled out of his chair, the lute slamming into his gut painfully. It didn't stop him from turning and fleeing the inn.

He didn't expect to find a temple. It looked lively despite the state the temple itself was in. It looked old, probably more ancient than anything else he had ever seen, but where he would normally be drawn in by the possibility of learning its history, he turned away at the thought of interacting with anyone. Instead, he slowly made his way over to the pond while staying within the trees.

He shouldn't be surprised he had been followed but neither footfall sounded familiar.

Turned out one of the footfall belonged to the human with the off eyes. Behind nem was one of the human's companions - the one with the interesting staff - but the companion didn't approach like the human did.

"Can I join you?"

He turned away, tail wrapping around him on the ground as he did so.

For a moment, there was silence. He relished in it for as long as it lasted and nearly drifted off before he felt warmth at his back. There wasn't any pressure of a human hand on his back but he knew there was one there, a few inches above his thin shirt. Why had he taken his gear off again?

"Your hair's longer than I remember." A breath. "But, then, that's to be expected. It has been almost twenty five years."

He couldn't help the snort that escaped him. "Then how do you know I'm you're friend. I'm probably too young to even have been alive twenty five years ago."

"Because I remember the pattern of your tail; the paint splatter of pale that colored the tip and stretched up the length of your tail." His tail tightened around him. "Because I remember your laugh even if its deepened from age, I remember how strikingly pale you looked standing next to your parents with lavender skin so soft it seemed almost incomplete with the pale patches." That hand that had been hovering high between his shoulder blades pressed into the back of his neck. "And I remember how small you had been when you first ran into me from among the wagons."

The hand was unnaturally warm but it pulled at things he couldn't remember. He leaned into the touch as a different sob pulled at him, bitter and sad and tired. "But I can't even remember if I had parents, let alone my childhood." He offered this strange human - so warm and familiar and strange - a tight smile. "How am I supposed to remember who you even are if I don't know who I am?"

The human smiled gently at him. "Then we'll start anew." The hand left the back of his neck and he swallowed down the urge to whimper. The human offered a hand to shake. "I'm Soren."

"I'm Soren."

He looked over, meeting the curious gaze of a human child that was barely older than he was. A small voice in his mind spoke of how the human's eye color was wrong somehow. The human child didn't seem to notice or didn't care with a hand offered like all the grownups do to strangers.

"Go on, Verena," a voice he couldn't remember but ached from hearing coaxed. "Shake neir hand like a good boy."

He didn't want to. He didn't trust any of the others of the caravan - the other kids skittered away any time he had wandered too close - so he went with the better option. He brought his tail around, a splotch of pale coloring like a paint splatter discoloring the tip. Said tip pressed into the offered palm and despite the chastising he knew was coming, Verena thought it was worth it to see the laughter that broke out across Soren's too grown up face.

He sucked in a breath, fumbling away from the strange human even as he realized his tail had moved on its own accord. The pale tip of his tail was stark against the strange human's palm and despite the joy he saw flicker across the strange human's face, he yanked his tail free. He wondered if the glimpse of disappointment was his own reflected back at him as Soren pulled on a mask of patience, hand still extended.

He swallowed thickly and reached out, giving a firm handshake even as he trembled. "Verena."

"How long have you been playing?"

Verena looked up as Soren settled beside him. Their two parties had been traveling together for over two weeks now and this was the first time Soren had sought Verena out when he was alone. Verena shrugged. "Long enough to have it ingrained into every fiber of my being," he offered easily enough. "Still don't remember much of my history despite..."

The last two weeks - the reasons why the two parties were now tangled and how memories weren't always the most pleasant coming back - went unsaid.

Soren hummed, as if ne understood.

They sat at the edge of the camp together, backs to the fire, and Verena suddenly had an inkling of why Soren was there. "I thought Soala was joining me for first watch."

Soren shrugged. "Apparently Aelfwyne needed her for something so I got volunteered."

He found himself raising an eyebrow at the other. "Why didn't you say no?"

Another shrug. "Soala was taking third watch for me in turn so I didn't think much of it till after the fact."

"Ah."

Silence stretched between them broken only by Verena's unconscious plucking of the lute strings.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when an unnaturally warm hand wrapped around the top of the base of his tail. He brought the lute up between them like it was a weapon he could use to beat Soren back but all he was met with was a surprised expression on the other's face. Regret quickly overtook the surprise and Soren pulled back, hand leaving Verena's tail. "Sorry."

Minutes passed before Verena finally relaxed enough to ask, "Why'd you do that?"

He gained Soren's gaze. Those off colored pupils regarded him for the brief moment before, "You looked like you needed some warmth."

"But my tail?"

Soren looked back to the group. "None of my companions have one so I hadn't really thought it would be any different than touching your shoulder, or arm." There was another shrug. "It was also bare skin. The rest of you is covered in fabric." Verena had taken to wearing his long sleeves but it was more out of keeping Soren's eyes off his markings than anything else. He gained a sigh from his silence. "Look," Soren explained, "I just did. There was no thought to it, no purpose other than wanting to give you some warmth. Figured best way was direct contact and I apologize for my lapse in judgment."

Soren stood up and started to move away.

It was then that Verena realized he really had been cold because now the chill of the night was touching him where Soren's warmth had been instead.

"What are you?"

His eyes snapped wide at the blurted words, a shiver of something coursing down his spin when Soren stops and half turns to look at him. But instead of the hate or rejection he expected to see, curiosity and patience greeted him from Soren's expression. He was growing to hate the latter. "A fire genasi. Why?"

"A what?"

"Fire genasi." Soren approached again but didn't sit. "Half human, half genie. Fire just happens to be the element trait I took on from the world."

"Would explain why you're always unnaturally warm."

Soren chuckled. He frowned, not liking the sound. It seemed sad. "I try and keep it as normal as I can manage but sometimes emotions or situations make it difficult."

His tail patted the spot Soren had been sitting at. "You were keeping the chill of the night away," he explained at Soren's raised eyebrow.

The fire genasi chuckled and sat back down. Conversation was slow to return but it did, making their watch short.

"Soren!"

His voice cracked on the name as fear threatened to choke him. Something brushed against his mind, something that wasn't physical, something he couldn't see nor touch, and as it brushed by it left him feeling like it took something with it but he couldn't think of what.

"Verena!"

It was soft, faint, and echoed off the walls like a whisper.

"Soren!" he screamed again, but he wasn't sure why he was screaming it. What even was it? Was it just a word or did it have meaning? Was it the customary response to 'verena'? What even was 'verena'?

He gave out a cry that turned into a sob as part of the ledge broke and tumbled into the darkness below. "Someone! Please!" he shouted, fear choking off anything else he may have shouted as he pressed into the wall as best he could.

"Verena!" His head snapped up and met a pair of eyes that looked off on a human face. Behind the stranger was a gaggle of people of varying races. "Shit," the human spat, the cuss echoed in different ways by those behind nem. "Verena, look at him." He found himself meeting the human's strange eyes. "Verena, I need you to trust me and step off the ledge."

"What?!" It was strangled and sharp and ricocheted off the walls oddly.

The human's face twisted into something painful. "Please, Ren," Ren, Ren, Ren, "you have to do this on your own. We can't come out to you."

"Why not?!" Another chuck of the ledge fell away and his leg slipped over the edge. "I can't!" it was high, reedy, followed quickly by a sob.

"We can't do this for you, Verena!" the human shouted back, voice strained as weapons were drawn. "Only you can conquer your fear! You're the only one that can get yourself out of its clutches."

"Soren!"

The strange human was thrown back by some force he didn't see. The human slammed into a few behind nem but those in the back were able to keep everyone more or less on their feet. One of the companions was already placing hands on the strange human's chest, magic dancing from those nimble fingers.

Something curled at the edge of his vision like it was about to strike and he knew with absolute certainty that if he let it spring forward, they would all die.

Whoever they were, they would all die.

He leapt at it as some noise ripped itself from his throat, magic turning all of his pale, swirling markings green.

It didn't matter who he was or who they were. He wasn't going to let them die.
"Verena, get back here!"

The shout was from near the back of the caravan, drawing the small child's attention towards it. Eyes that were not quite human in color sought out whoever was calling out, curious but not bothered. After all, the father was barely paying any attention to the shouting.

"Verena!"

Exhausted, fed up; those were things the father had explained but the child was still learning, still trying to understand.

Something small and solid collided with the child's side, but where the child stumbled, the other fell to neir butt in the dirt. Someone shouted and the human child with the not quite right eyes yanked the tiefling child with a tail nearly as long as ne were tall out of the way of the cart.

"Watch where yer playin', ya damn brat!" the driver barked.

"Soren? What'chya got there?"

"Don' know, da'" the human child offered, looking down at the tiefling. "Ne just ran into me."

"Verena! There you are!"

A tiefling woman with beautiful, rich purple skin hurried forward and roughly pulled the tiefling child from the human one. The tiefling gave a startled cry. "Shush, Verena." Her yellow eyes sought out the other parent. "I'm so sorry Stoick. Is Soren alright?"

"I'm fine," the human spoke out, eyes watching the tiefling child. Bright yellow eyes met the eyes that were not quite human in color and for a moment, the human child stared. There were no flickering of expressions on the other child's face, just a curious gaze of a child slightly younger than the other. The human child offered a hand like all the grownups do to strangers. "I'm Soren."

"Go on, Verena. Shake neir hand like a good boy."

The tiefling's lavender tail came around, a splotch of pale coloring like a paint splatter discoloring the tip and stretching up the rest of the tail. A glance picked the pale coloring in patches across the other child's face as the tip of the tiefling's tail pressed into the offered palm. Soren's face broke out into joyous laughter.

"We'll be heading east at Alnrich."

Soren stiffened under Verena's weight as dread filled neir tiny body. They were trying to sneak through the caravan as young children do playing whatever game they had made but they had heard Verena's parents and Soren's dad's voices drifting towards them in the night and had gotten curious. Soren had crouched at the back wheel of one of the wagons while Verena cling to neir back still smaller than the other.

Soren felt Verena bury his face into neir hair and it was all ne could do to not cling to the tiefling's tail as it wrapped around neir middle; ne weren't able to stop from rubbing comforting circles into the tail.

"So soon?" Verena's mother asked.

There was a scoff from his father. "Let them leave if they want, Ilma. It is not our place to convince them to stay."

A rumble of a chuckle came from Soren's dad. "Soren will most likely fight me. We've stayed too long and ne's grown attached to Verena and the others."

Soren fought to keep neir body temperature from rising in anger.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Verena's mother asked and ne wanted to shout, to know the answer too.

"Whether it is or isn't doesn't change the fact that we have stayed too long. We will part ways at Alnrich."

"May the tides bring us back together."

Verena's mother added at the end of his father's words, "And may the winds bring you peace."

"Thank you, both of you."

"Hang on tight, Ren," Soren urged softly before dashing away from their parentals and deeper into the trees. They didn't go very far - they were still within the light of the main campfire - but it was far enough that if they didn't talk overly loud, they'd have privacy. Soren pulled at Verena's tail and hand, a silent sign for the other to get down and stand in front of nem.

"I don't want you to go," Verena choked, hands fluttering towards his mouth briefly at the struggle to keep his voice down. He pressed his face into Soren's chest and the only support Soren could offer was a tight, warm embrace.

"I don't want to go either but Dad says it's important to keep moving until home finds us."

Verena pulled his face away enough to look up at Soren, those yellow eyes as big and watery as possible. "But isn't this home?"

Something dug into Soren's heart and it was all ne could do to smile. It was soft and felt a bit off. "I think Dad wants a house that doesn't move, with fields and animals to tend. I don't think he ever wanted to be part of a traveling caravan."

Verena's arms tightened around Soren; his tail had hooked around neir left ankle. "What about you? Where do you wanna be?"

Ne shrugged. "With Dad. He's all I got left."

"But what about me? I'm your family too."

Hot tears spilled out from Soren's eyes, warm even on neir cheeks, as ne felt neir heart be twisted and broken at the accusation. "But I can't leave my Dad. Verena-"

A vicious sob cut off the rest of Soren's words, destroying whatever composure ne had left. Verena pulled at Soren and wrapped himself as best he could around the bigger kid. Soren held on, heat rolling off nem. There was only so much control the small child could manage sobbing as the reality of neir world was torn apart in front of nem.

A familiar hand pressed into neir back and started to rub soothing circles as a familiar voice coaxes, "Come on, kiddo. It's bedtime."

"Don' wanna go," Soren spat out into the mingling of their bodies.

"I know. But it won't be forever. Just a for now. Ok? You'll see Verena again."

Soren pulled away enough to look up at neir dad. There was a small bit of hope buried deep underneath the knowledge that it probably wasn't true. "Promise?"

Stoick smiled. Verena's hold on Soren tightened. "Promise. Come on, kiddo."

Soren didn't believe him but slipped from Verena's grasp all the same.

"Ren?"

Yellow eyes snapped to eyes not quite the right coloring for human eyes.

"Do I know you?"

The question was sharp, directed at nem and it was till those words were shot in neir direction did ne realize ne had said the first word.

"Ah, sorry," Soren offered, even as ne drank in every last detail of the soft lavender tiefling with pale splotches; how the plum purple hair was far longer than ne ever expected the other to have, of how the right horn was broken off three rings from the skull, of the pale markings on the exposed arms, of the lute being clenched as if ne would steal it away. "You looked like an old friend of mine I haven't seen in years."

"Someone named Ren?"

Was it so shameful that a part of nem wanted to lie and say 'yes' when there was so much emotion behind that one question?

"His full name is Verena," ne found nemself saying, "but last I had seen him we were nothing but tots."

A sob wrenched itself from the tiefling as said tiefling curled around the lute, his free hand coming up to cover his mouth. A tail that was nearly as long as the tiefling was tall curled up and around, like it could add another layer of protection between them when all it did was display the paint splotch of pale that colored the tip and stretched up the rest of the tail.

Those at the tiefling's table shouted the name Soren had just shared. They reached out for the sobbing tiefling, tried to coax him back, but the tiefling - Verena - shot up and stumbled out of his chair, lute bouncing against his body. Soren moved forward but whatever ne had thought ne could do was wasted as Verena dashed out past nem and company.

"Shit." Ne looked to the table of Verena's apparent companions and urged, "I'll get him back." Neir gaze flickered to the same person ne always turned to for backup. "Hilde, with me, please." Neir gaze flickered to the others. "Stay here. We'll be back."

It took half a second outside of Mimm's to find which direction Verena had gone and Soren wasted no time running after him. Ne trusted Hilde to keep pace, if not finding nem if they separated.

Relief was heady as ne saw Hilde's temple come into view. The occupants were bustling about inside or out of sight because there was no one in the front area or near the pond Verena was settling at.

Soren slowed to a calm walk before ne finished approaching. Hilde stopped a few feet back. "Can I join you?" ne asked when ne came to a stop an arm length away.

Verena simply turned away and tucked his tail around him. Soren took it as invite enough and sat down.

Silence settled between them and Soren let his gaze drift over the others. The pale markings were strange swirls up and down the tiefling's bare arms. A part of nem wanted to ask about them but somehow knew better. Instead, ne lifted neir hand and rested it over the beautiful braid that was so long, it left Soren wondering just how long it truly was. "Your hair's longer than I remember." A breath. "But, then, that's to be expected. It has been almost twenty five years."

A snort escaped Verena. "Then how do you know I'm you're friend. I'm probably too young to even have been alive twenty five years ago."

"Because I remember the pattern of your tail; the paint splatter of pale that colored the tip and stretched up the length of your tail." Soren swallowed thickly, trying to keep whatever emotions that were trying to drown him at bay. "Because I remember your laugh even if its deepened from age, I remember how strikingly pale you looked standing next to your parents with lavender skin so soft it seemed almost incomplete with the pale patches." Ne pressed the hand that had been hovering high between Verena's shoulder blades into the back of his neck. "And I remember how small you had been when you first ran into me from among the wagons."

Ne felt the other lean into the touch as a different sob pulled at him, bitter and sad and tired. "But I can't even remember if I had parents, let alone my childhood." Verena offered a tight smile. "How am I supposed to remember who you even are if I don't know who I am?"

A gentle smile pulled at Soren's lips. "Then we'll start anew." Ne pulled the hand from the back of Verena's neck so that ne could turn and offer a hand to shake. "I'm Soren."

It was strange watching the tiefling ne half remember uncurl with a start. The pale tale tip came up hesitantly and pressed into neir palm and despite the strange look on Verena's face, Soren had a hard time suppressing the joy at knowing this was the Verena from his childhood.

It was short lived anyways. Verena sucked in a breath and yanked his tail from neir had. Soren did his best to keep the hurt that caused hidden behind a mask of patience, hand still extended.

Verena took neir hand in a firm hand shake. "Verena."

Soren couldn't help but wonder at the other's trembling.

"How long have you been playing?"

Verena looked up as Soren settled beside him. Their two parties had been traveling together for over two weeks now and Soren had done neir best to give Verena space, to never be alone with him. Unfortunately for nem, that wasn't possible tonight.

Verena shrugged. "Long enough to have it ingrained into every fiber of my being. Still don't remember much of my history despite..."

The last two weeks - the reasons why the two parties were now tangled and how memories weren't always the most pleasant coming back - went unsaid.

Soren hummed, understanding enough not to press.

They sat at the edge of the camp together, backs to the fire, in blissful silence for a while. Soren was surprised, though, by Verena's next words.

"I thought Soala was joining me for first watch."

Ne shrugged. "Apparently Aelfwyne needed her for something so I got volunteered."

Soren didn't miss the raised eyebrow. "Why didn't you say no?"

Another shrug. "Soala was taking third watch for me in turn so I didn't think much of it till after the fact."

"Ah."

Silence stretched between them broken only by Verena plucking at the lute strings. The song was heavy in a way that Soren wasn't sure Verena was aware of. It made something cold and unpleasant twist in neir chest.

A cold breeze wrapped around them both and Verena shuddered from it. Something close to instinct had Soren placing his hand on top of the base of Verena's tail. Ne blinked in surprise when the loot was suddenly between them. Regret quickly overtook the surprise as it dawned on Soren what ne had done and ne pulled back, hand leaving Verena's tail. "Sorry."

Minutes passed before Verena asked, "Why'd you do that?"

Soren looked over, regarding him for the brief moment before, "You looked like you needed some warmth."

"But my tail?"

Soren looked back to the group. "None of my companions have one so I hadn't really thought it would be any different than touching your shoulder, or arm." There was another shrug. "It was also bare skin. The rest of you is covered in fabric."Ne sighed when neir words were met with silence. "Look," Soren explained, "I just did. There was no thought to it, no purpose other than wanting to give you some warmth. Figured best way was direct contact and I apologize for my lapse in judgment."

Soren stood up and started to move away.

"What are you?"

Soren stopped and half turned back to Verena, mostly curious but doing neir best to remain patient as well. That particular question wasn't always directed at nem in hate and ne knew it. "A fire genasi. Why?"

"A what?"

"Fire genasi." Soren approached again but didn't sit. "Half human, half genie. Fire just happens to be the element trait I took on from the world."

"Would explain why you're always unnaturally warm."

Ne chuckled as ne found the whole thing bittersweet. Verena frowned up at nem. "I try and keep it as normal as I can manage but sometimes emotions or situations make it difficult."

Verena's tail patted the spot ne had been sitting at. Neir eyebrows rose at the implication. "You were keeping the chill of the night away," he explained.

Ne chuckled and sat back down. Conversation was slow to return but it did, making their watch short.

"Soren!"

His voice was soft, faint, and echoed off the walls like a whisper. It still carried the crack that had formed partway through and it tore at neir soul. Ne grunted as ne blocked another attack.

"Verena!" ne shouted back, frustrated that ne had to deal with insignificant enemies before ne could even fathom getting close enough to help, let alone save Verena.

Another clash of metal against metal. A well placed hand and the creature ignited.

"Soren!" came echoing back.

Soren dived under another creature, set that one ablaze as well, and dashed into the hallway that was suddenly clear.

"Someone! Please!" ricocheted through the hall but it was still Verena's voice and it was louder.

Ne rounded a corner with most of the combined company not far behind only to see something that made neir stomach drop. "Verena!"

Verena's head snapped up and relief was faint as those frantic yellow eyes locked onto neirs. Unfortunately, Soren was forced to stop as a massive tentacle slammed into the ground at the entrance. "Shit," ne spat, the cuss echoed in different ways behind nem. "Verena, look at me," ne half ordered, half begged. Those too bright yellow eyes found neirs again. Ne could see the panic there, the uncertainty and unfamiliarity. It made nem want to cuss some more. "Verena, I need you to trust me and step off the ledge."

"What?!" It was strangled and sharp and ricocheted off the walls oddly.

Soren's expression twisted with the doubt settling there as the sea of tentacles continued to slowly eroding Verena's perk. Somewhere in that sea was the creature's body. "Please, Ren," ne urged - pleaded, begged - taking a step forward, "you have to do this on your own. We can't come out to you."

"Why not?!" A chuck of the ledge fell away and Verena's leg slipped over the edge. It dangled inches above the closest tentacle. "I can't!" It was high, reedy, followed quickly by a sob and Soren found nemself stepping into the space without thinking.

"We can't do this for you, Verena!" Soren shouted, voice strained as weapons were drawn. "Only you can conquer your fear! You're the only one that can get yourself out of its clutches."

Ne didn't see the tenticle in time.

"Soren!"

Soren caught the curled tentacle in the chest and heard a few sickening cracks upon impact. Ne were slammed into Hilde and Alok and Aelfwyne but Unzokk and Kin were able to keep them all more or less on their feet. Hilde was already pressing hands onto neir chest, magic coursing through neir chest knitting back together the broken ribs and healing any other internal injuries.

It still took a few moments for the darkness creeping into neir vision to subside.

Soren's gaze snapped back to Verena as a battle cry like scream filled the halls with a brilliant green glow.

Soren scrambed to get to his feet, Verena's name ripping itself from neir throat as ne watched Verena leap at the creature's body, coiled and ready to strike at the company.

Soren tried to shake off the others even as ne knew there wasn't anything ne could do.

"Verena!"

[ArtisticVicu]

Two Sides of the Same Coin
Prompt
The first words spoken by one's soulmate appearing on the wrist at the age of sixteen.

Usually a sixteenth birthday was a big deal but how families handled it varied. Some threw parties, some kept it private, but there was always an eagerness to read the first words a soulmate would share.

But sometimes life makes it hard to keep that kind of thing consistent.

"You can see him now."

The doctor's voice pulled his eyes from his wrist. His parents moved with a stuttered urgency. He reached over for his little sister. "Come on," he coaxed the five-year-old. She didn't utter a word as she let him help her gather all her crayons and paper before following after their parents. He knew where they were going even with how overwhelming the hospital was.

The recovery wing was stagnant compared to the waiting room. He hated it. Entering the room with his little sister's hand in his, he let out a silent sigh of relief as the stagnant of the recovery wing stopped at the door.

"Grandpa!"

Her hand slipped from his. She hurried over with that bright grin and calling out for their grandpa a second time. His parents chastised her even as the man on the bed roused. They were scared but his sister knew what he knew; their Grandpa was going to be just fine even with the long recovery.

"Mark."

He had settled underneath the window in the morning sunlight when friends and more family had arrived. He had contented himself to watch the different life lines shift and change around him. But his attention was drawn back to the man on the hospital bed in the empty room at the sound of one of his nicknames. An unconscious check told him his mom was taking his sister to the restroom and his dad was still seeing family and friends off. He got up and walked over, hopping up onto the edge of the hospital bed at his Grandpa's beckoning. The old man grinned at him. "Well, let's see it then."

He blinked, confused. "See what?"

His Grandpa chuckled. "Your wrist. Don't think for a moment this whole ordeal has made me forget what day it is. You still turned 16 today."

He recoiled from that, snapping his gaze back towards the window where it was safe.

A strong, weathered hand wrapped around his left wrist, fingers caressing the one thing he wanted to ignore. "That bad, huh?"

He didn't fight when his Grandpa pulled his arm up to read.

"Pathetic," his Grandpa read.

He flinched.

"Hey now, we don't know context," his Grandpa reminded him even as his heart ached. "Come now, Marcus. You have to remember that first impressions never go as we would like them to go."

"I know," he let out, the words heavy with his disappointment and fear. "I just-I was hoping for something more-"

"Romantic?" his Grandpa guessed. He nodded. "Well, when you find them, you'll have to tell me just how romantic it turned out to be."

He laughed and was choked by a sob. "You really think it'll be romantic? 'Pathetic'?"

His Grandpa shrugged, grinning. "I bet it will be something extraordinary for sure. Two sides of the same coin and all that. I'm sure whatever is on your soulmate's wrist will make it all alright. You have a good heart, Marcus, and I believe in it with all of mine."

"Onyx!"

"I see them!" he shouted back, already diving into the first floor of a crumpling building. He felt Jade's ability ripple through the structure as he followed the life lines he could see. Over a crumpled wall, through a half blocked doorway, and up a stairwell that had no stairs for two floors before he found the one worse off. "Third floor. Evac out."

"On it." A different voice. "Show me where."

He ran to the nearest wall and dragged the marker in a massive 'X' over the wall. He turned away as Jade got to work, returning to the life lines. He went to the one he had found and knelt beside them. The life line was fraying but a new strand was fading into existence. He touched the stranger's shoulder, urging gently, "Hold in there, ok? Help is coming to get you out but I have to go save another."

The stranger jerked at that and the new strand's opacity stopped, wavering on the edge of fading in or out of existence. He tightened his grip on their shoulder. "You're not going to die," he stated flatly. "When I step away, you are going to be alone for a whole ten seconds. My teammate it making way for the evac team and they will be at your side stabilizing you before you can worry yourself to death." The new strand popped into existence but it wouldn't hold the person there if the original life line frayed completely. It was out of his hands, though. He had done what he could to make sure they had a chance.

He moved way, catching sight of the evac unit landing at the start of a series of holes Jade had made for them. He moved away from the stranger, stating, "All yours, Garnet."

"How many more?" echoed from the evac unit and his headset.

He dipped back into the stairwell. "One more."

They were hiding in a closet. It was strangely disconcerting but he knelt outside of it, watching the life line. "Hey," he offered gently, "my name's Onyx. I'm with UneTra. I'm here to get you to safety." Not a sound. The life line wavered. "Jade won't be able to support the building for much longer. It would be best if we left now."

A long pause stretched between him and the closet as the only noise that broke it was from the fighting three blocks away. There was chatter on the channel but he was good at ignoring it.

The door opened and he smiled, opening his arms to this stranger. "Let's get you to safety."

The life line suddenly shattered.

He moved without thinking, years of training shoving him forward and around the stranger. He pulled them up and he got lucky as they clung to him instead of fight him.

The explosion threw them out the window but the life line had reformed, so that was good.

Garnet caught him at the height of free fall, dragging them through the air to safety. A second evac appeared and he passed the stranger off.

Garnet's life line caught his attention mid transfer.

It didn't even register in his head what he had done till he was falling again, foot towards the sky and head towards the ground; he had kicked Garnet's wing.

Garnet's life line was starting to fray but it was slow and already there was a new life line solidly there, nothing like the sudden unraveling it had been.

The attack, however, had caused Garnet to let go.

Something kept the impact from doing much harm but it still hurt.

There was a ringing in his ears. It was all he could do to push himself onto his back and crack an eye open. His life line was fraying but the cut end was still very much there so he wasn't overly worried.

He registered someone was standing over him when they shifted their weight. He couldn't tell who they were. Everything beyond his own life line was still blurry.

A foot connected with the center of his chest, kicking the air out of his lungs. He was stunned he didn't hear a crack as he gasped for air. He blinked and the world was suddenly crisp around him.

Above him stood Creed, a supervillain that every Support feared if they were smart. Creed was a top ranked villain and there was a reason.

All he felt was a weariness and the familiar tug when he saw the cut life line.

Creed sneered at him. "Pathetic."

"At least," he gasped out, "I'm not as pathetic as you."

Strange, those were not the words he had meant to say.

There was a ruckus from the 15-year-old's bedroom. Seven boys were all laughing and shouting as four of them played some video game. The eighth boy - the 15-year-old now 16 who's room was full of friends playing - was in the bathroom staring at his wrist.

Ice filled his veins as dread seeped through him. He scrambled to find something to hide the words written on his wrist, ideas of how to keep people from asking rushing through his mind.

He knew it was all futile.

One of his friends had found him mid panic. The news quickly drew the other boys and they were as vicious as he expected. His dad wasn't far behind as his mom sent the seven boys home. His dad's reaction was just as painful as every other word that flew out of the man's throat.

'At least I'm not as pathetic as you.'

He hated those words. He hated them worse than he hated his parents, than he hated society. At least he was able to hide his abilities as they manifested. Now, ten years after that scrawl had shown up on the inside of his wrist, he was anything but pathetic. Nothing like the weak human beneath his shoe. He sneered when he caught sight of a familiar flicker in the man beneath his boot that he had seen in far too many others he had once tried to help. "Pathetic."

"At least," the man gasped, "I'm not as pathetic as you."

Something shot through him so hard and so fast, that he didn't realize he had lifted his boot till it was slamming into the man's chest again as he screamed. He wasn't sure what he had screamed but the man underneath him coughed, wheezed, and met his gaze with one eye barely open against the pain; there were at least two ribs broken now. "Sorry." He blinked. "Not what I-" another cough- "wanted to say."

"What?" escaped his throat drowning in his bewilderment.

He was too distracted to notice the bodies that slammed into him.

The glass was cool against his face as he watched Creed on the other side. The man was pacing back and forth like a caged animal but the life line was what held his attention. Never had he ever questioned what his ability had him do but to spew such awful words to someone whose line had been cut like that?

But it had worked, and he didn't understand why, for the villain's life line was nice and long again.

"Onyx?"

He turned his head, still keeping the one point of contact with the glass he had, to look at the man who had spoken. The speaker had a male and a female companion. "You shouldn't be out of the medical ward."

"Is everything alright?" the female companion inquired. Her tone carried the same concern that was on all three faces but he was sure the concern wasn't there for the same reasons. "Do we need to put him under a stricter watch?"

He pulled away from the window. He knew what she was asking about. This wasn't the first time they had found him at the glass. He wondered if he wore the same hollow gaze now or if it was just that common of a reason for his presence. "No." His voice was raw in his throat and he swallowed against a cough. "He's fine now."

That gained him confused expressions. The male companion clarified, "So his life line had been cut on the field?"

"But what you said to him..." The man looked to the two companions.

He wasn't surprised they had heard his strange words. "I want permission to go in and speak with him."

This gained him suspicious looks. He just looked back at all of them, exhausted. The man glanced at the two companions before giving him a nod. "Five minutes. We'll be recording it."

He nodded. That was to be expected.

What he didn't expect was facing a strangely panicked Creed. He felt the other man's abilities wash over them and knew immediately that whatever happened in the room now was going to stay in that room.

Creed's file was incomplete which meant that the rest of the organization was unprepared if Creed realized it.

"What do you want," the villain snapped, the length of the table between them.

He shrugged, eyes never leaving Creed even as his entire torso screamed at him for shrugging. His exhaustion pulled at him more seeing the other man so tightly wound. "A simple answer, really."

Creed scoffed in his direction. "Oh? And what would that be? Who I really am? What abilities do I have?"

"What are the words on your wrist?"

The reaction was immediate and he blinked, surprised to see Creed gripping at a covered wrist with a grip so tight, he was surprised there hadn't been the audible sound of a bone cracking. "Why the f-"

"Your life line changed." He watched Creed's expression change, how the other's thought process derailed and then kicked back into gear.

"What do you mean my 'life line changed'? What life line?"

He fought the urge to shrug again. His body was still screaming at him. "It's my ability. I can tell when and roughly how someone is going to die by their life line. When its frayed, it means I can coax a new life line into place but not guarantee life. Sometimes fraying will happen in the middle of a life line which means that whatever is killing them won't kill them with proper aid. When it shatters, it means the person is about to die suddenly and whether or not it stays shattered depends on what is going to kill the person; I was able to get a shattered life line to reform by pulling them out of the way of immediate danger." His words stalled briefly. "When it's cut, it means someone will take their own life."

Disbelief was prominent on Creed's face. He was used to that as a first response. "And when exactly did mine change?"

"After I had said something about not being as pathetic as you." He watched as something clashed on Creed's face that he didn't understand and he shook his head, stepping forward. The one arm not in a sling stretched out to his side. 'Pathetic' was faded on his wrist but still clear enough that he knew Creed could read it as the villain's gaze moved to it. "You said mine first, though."

He was certain shock had settled in as the villain pulled at the long sleeve hiding the other's words without looking. Creed brought his wrist up slightly higher than his elbow before breaking his gaze from Marcus's word and looking at whatever had been written on the inside of his wrist.

Marcus watched as the villain just stared.

"Creed?" The villain's gaze snapped up. There was a heavy pause between them before Creed lowered his wrist and Marcus was able to read the fading text upside down. 'At least I'm not as pathetic as you' stared back at him and he found himself smiling. "I'm glad," he offered truthfully, and he looked up, meeting Creed's bewildered expression. Compared to Creed's life line, his looked pathetic with its cut end. He gestured with his word. "Now I don't have to fret over this anymore."

"You're not seriously expecting me to suddenly change my ways and love you?" Creed spat as a knock sounded on the door.

His soft smile grew a bit at that as he shook his head. "No." He started for the door. "Of course not. That would be stupid and impractical. After all..." He wrapped his hand around the door handle and looked back. "You're life line is still far longer than mine and that's on me."

He opened the door and stepped out, cutting off Creed's shout for him to come back with a click of the door shutting.

"Everything alright, Onyx?" The man from before. He was without his companions.

He offered a tired smile. "I should be getting back to the medical ward. Excuse me, Director."

It was a strange relief when the Director didn't stop him.

[ArtisticVicu]

Outside the Window
What a potential sequel to This is Halloween 2018 Writing Marathon (https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=95786&page=3&p=3073143&viewfull=1#post3073143) could entail.

Peter's eldest sees a stranger at the end of the short walk but when he looks, he sees a creature that is very familiar to him. He sends his eldest to rescue his husband from the twins and send said husband his way. But what had happened before the creature's arrival after Peter had taken the hand of a Walker?

“Hey, dad.” He looked over at his eldest finding their gaze out the dining room window. “Who’s that standing at the end of the walk?”

His gaze turned to the window over the sink as he automatically reached up and turned the water off.

Outside the window, the morning was still going strong. What counted as the front yard was illuminated by the streaks of sunlight that made it through the large trees. The street beyond the small yard’s fence was still bustling with morning traffic - both vehicle and foot traffic - but not an eye strayed to stare at the figure standing at the end of the walk at the closed gate.

He turned, drying off his hands. “Go free your Pa of the twins and send him to me. I’ll go greet our guest.”

He watched them leave, a tight expression still on their face of apprehension and confusion. He tucked the towel back into place hoping the hints of pain he had seen as well were from a mild headache rather than the pain he had gone through when he had first met one.

He was pulling on his other shoe when his husband joined him.

“Polaris said you were going to go see about a stranger at our gate?”

“Not sure if you’ll be able to see them. Surprise Laris was, honestly.” He paused, gaze on the wall opposite him. “Surprised I hadn’t felt them.”

“S-Ona?”

He smiled up at his husband. “Always so quick.”

The offered hand was warm beneath his and he let his husband pull him to his feet. “Polaris has met M-Ona before.”

The door handle, in contrast, was cold to the touch. “I had forgotten about that.”

The air was still crisp and cool despite the hour and the handle added to the note that the night had been cold. The stranger at the gate was watching the trees dance in the light breeze drifting through though their attention was on him when the door opened fully. In a form not even remotely human, he was impressed that not a single eye flickered towards his home. Humans eyes were drawn to what they could not see if conscious enough and he knew there were at least three that weren’t children that would be able to see the creature standing at his gate.

“Time has passed graciously and kind, Star Ona,” he offered formally as he stepped off the landing that counted as their porch. “What draws one as you to me once more?”

The large black eyes of the S-Ona narrowed in the equivalent of a human smile. “Can not an old friend say hi, Ilnruk?”

He tapped the side of his nose with a smile. “No old friend of mine stands before me, Star Ona. Velgrath has long since left this Seer be for many kind years. But you know that as I know that. What brings you here, for I know it is not this Seer you are here to see.”

The S-Ona’s eyes narrowed even more till they were nothing more than thick dark lines on their pale head. “There yet has been word of such tongues from you, Ilnruk.” The entire creature’s head moved with their gaze. “Will not the child of one be just as quick?”

He looked beyond his husband to the door, spying his eldest standing in the doorway with the twins. The scowl on the eldest’s face was more annoyance than pain and his smile turned into a grin. The twins darted across the short stretch of sidewalk and plowed into his husband’s legs, tiny hands clinging to fabric as both started talking at once. “Laris,” he spoke out as his husband dealt with their youngests in hushed tones. “Come meet the Star Ona currently giving you a splitting headache.”

“I wouldn’t call it so much splitting as annoying,” Polaris offered, approaching with a wariness he appreciated. “You’re the one that’s been talking to me, then?”

“As it would seem,” the S-Ona spoke. He got the distinct impression the mouthless creature was grinning.

“Then drop the tongues, Arak,” Polaris bit out, “and properly introduce yourself.”

The S-Ona laughed. and those eyes, though wide, conveyed the grin he could feel. “You’ve certainly raised them right, Ilnruk. And you’ve had a good teacher, too. It’s not often we get Seers that can speak so eloquently that I couldn’t resist.” The S-Ona bowed deeply. “I am Elnarak. Velgrath was a dear companion of mine before the situations with you drew them away. I am glad their impression on you and yours has lasted.”

Those dark eyes had briefly flickered up to his husband before settling specifically on the twins. They were still talking but their voices were muffled by magic of their own draw. He could see on his husband’s face that it was only one sided, though, and that they were hearing everything quite well. “Velgrath was extremely potent,” he offered, turning his attention back to Elnarak. “I would be surprised if their touch didn’t touch the children of my children in some way, Seers or otherwise.”

He got the impression that Elnarak was grinning again. “And now it’s my turn,” those dark eyes turned to Polaris, “with them.” Those black eyes were on him again. “But this time the danger ahead is nothing like what you had to be prepared for, Seer.”

Outside the window lightning lit up the night sky. The pouring rain was streaking the window and blurring the city lights he had missed seeing. The glass itself was cool against his forehead as the rumble of thunder made it tremble. A deep breath fogged up the glass beneath his line of sight.

A presence he had missed far more pressed in at his back and he pulled his head away from the glass, straightening his posture as two very familiar arms wrapped around his chest. “Are you going to keep the windows up all night?” a voice asked nonchalant in his ear. “I’m sure they can support themselves.”

A smile pulled at his lips as his gaze focused on where a reflection should be. The lighting was off, obscuring both of their faces. “I apologize, Ezekiel. I had not been paying the time any mind.”

There was a kiss to his neck. “You’ve been lost in thought for hours, love. It’s now approaching three in the morning and we still have a 9am meeting.”

He leaned his head back, weight shifting into the sure body behind him. “I had forgotten about that.”

Another roll of thunder. He wasn’t sure if he was sad or not about missing the lightning that had preceded it.

“What has your attention so tight, love?” that voice softly coaxed.

He sighed. “The Walkers were preparing me for something but since I’ve returned to this….” he made a face, “I don’t know, world? I haven’t been able to figure out what. It feels like it should be obvious but even my Sight isn’t helping me. I can’t See anything. Haven’t since I came back.” The arms tightened around him. He wondered if they were in response to the tension in his own body. “And it scares me.”

“Come to bed, then,” Ezekiel urged. “Please, love. You need sleep. We both do before tomorrow’s meeting. Afterwards I am whisking you away to some beach and we’ll sit and talk about the marriage you promised me three years ago.”

He chuckled. “I did promise you that, didn’t I.” He turned around in that embrace, snaking his arms around someone he never wanted to let go of again. “To bed with us, then. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Outside the window, the rain had turned into a drizzle but the bright morning sun was already above the layer of clouds leaving the view outside gray and wet. It was certainly better than the chaos of the meeting before him. With a solid foot on the table, he rocked on the back two legs of his chair, glaring at the idiots before him. The few that were actually trying to accomplish something were saved from his wrathful gaze and the touch of magic he couldn’t quite wrangle in.

Ezekiel sat back down with a quiet snarl, glaring at the atrocity of a man at the other end who took Ezekiel’s move as a surrender. Even the uncontrolled touch of his magic did nothing to get the atrocity to fall silent when his glare landed on the man.

“Lord Talmas, unless you have something of use to say, shut the fuck up.”

His voice was sharp, cutting through the atrocity’s words with ease. The magic that rolled with his words got everyone’s attention. He stood slower than he would normally, splayed his hands on the table and leaned into them slower than normal. He let the magic around him thicken and weigh heavy on all of them. His glare remained on Lord Talmas at the other end of the table. “We are here for a reason and I am sick and tired of listening to your pompous ass speak as if you’re important.” The man bristled at that and he stood his full - albeit a bit short - height. “Unless you have something of value to contribute to the actual reason this meeting is being held, sit down, shut up, and listen. The only reason you are here is because of your status, Lord Talmas, and I expect you to act your position and not the entitled little brat you’re behaving like.”

Outrage erupted around him. The thickened magic buried all of them as he sneered at those that had jumped to defend the other man. “You are welcome to leave,” he informed each of them and many of those still seated. “I am not forcing you to stay. However, if you walk out that door, I will make sure that whatever aid we send you takes its sweet ass time getting to each of you specifically. Your people will be fine but you, personally, may perish if you don’t start acting like the leaders you are expected to be. I promise you that.”

Everyone settled as the magic lifted and he fought the urge to sigh. He turned a softer gaze to Madam Van. “We will be proceeding under the impression that the intel you have received is accurate. I would much rather be prepared than caught not. We’ll have to be careful, though. If we do too much, they may move faster than we can keep up with.”

He wasn’t sure why Sight warned him, why Sight showed him moments before it happened, but he went from calmed fury to terrified for Ezekiel’s life at the flip of a switch. Without thinking, he spun from the table, grabbed his fiance’s arm and pulled as magic surged at his command. The explosion slammed into what barrier he could swiftly construct and shattered it. He and Ezekiel were thrown to the floor and his head erupted in pain.

It was like he had become Sight. Everything - past, present, and possible futures - were filling his mind and it was all he could do to keep himself separate from the flashing instances. He witnessed things he knew could happen and witnessed things he prayed never did. There was no point of reference as he watched people he didn’t even know - couldn’t even recognize as a type of being - in a world so unfamiliar deal with horrible or fantastic or breathtaking or heartbreaking things so rapidly over what felt like an eternity - or was it only a few seconds - that he started to forget he was even a person to begin with.

The pain flared and he cried out but none that he saw heard him, his voice lost in the in betweens, lost to the passage of time, and he felt so isolated. The chaos around him seemed to only get more frantic and he wanted to close his eyes, to block it out, but he had no eyes to close.

“Come on. Just a bit more, Ilnruk.”

He was standing. Multiple scenes were happening around him barely an arm’s distance away from him, but he was standing and he had a body again.

“Good. Good. This is good.”

The voice echoed about him but it was hard to tell if it was in his head or in the space he was occupying. He looked around despite only seeing different scenes everywhere he looked. “What’s good?!” he shouted back. “Who are you?! What’s going on?!”

“Introductions when you are more stable. Now, Ilnruk, focus. Work with the Sight. It does not have to control you.”

“How?” He didn’t care the word carried his desperation. “I don’t even know what’s going on!”

There was a heavy pause as several thousand, very violent, very horrible things showed around him in rapid succession. “Despite our lack of time, I’ll start you off from the beginning. Breathe deep and slow. Breathe, Ilnruk, and be still.”

Outside the window, the sky held a spattering of clouds. The sky itself was dark, like the sun was at the edge of the horizon. He knew it was early morning. He knew it was early morning 17 days after he had yanked Ezekiel from harm. He knew what had filled those 17 days for the world but, more importantly, he knew what had transpired in his home and around it. A debilitating headache made it hard for him to even want to move but he moved anyways.

Ezekiel’s gaze was where he looked for it, meeting that bewildered gaze steadily. He didn’t have to look to see the scarring around the man’s throat, the raw look to his hands, the clothing that was somebody else’s and dirtied with dust, grime, and blood that was and wasn’t his own. Most of it wasn’t his own. He didn’t have to ask to know what his fiance had lived through, what had happened in his absence, and he wasn’t sure if he cared enough to hate that fact at the moment.

He would later.

Ah, yeah, he hated it.

“Peter,” fell off his fiance’s tongue rough and choked. The man was at his side but he was already getting out of bed, hands up and pulling the other man in for a tight embrace he knew the other needed.

With the other man’s face buried into his neck and shoulder, he looked at the only other figure in the room. “Velgrath. Star Ona are not supposed to be getting involved. You know this.”

The S-Ona smiled the only way they do. “And yet I am here anyways.” Those black eyes became their normal shape, focused a stare on him that was neutral, expectant. "Welcome back, Ilnruk.“

"I’m glad to be back.” He meant it. “But now we have work to do.”

“Velgrath has told me some of what had been happening to you,” Ezekiel offered as he pulled away. “What should I expect?”

“For this to be chaotic and seemingly hopeless before it works,” he offered truthfully. “If we act now and act quickly, we can get the desired outcome with as little death as possible.” He started for the door. “We have to speak with Brekon first.”

A hand wrapped around his wrist and he looked back at Ezekiel. “Peter, Warren-”

“I know.” There wasn’t much time and they were wasting it. He rolled his arm over in the hold and gave Ezekiel’s arm a squeeze. “Do your best not to fight me in what I’m about to do. It will work.” He locked eyes with Velgrath. The S-Ona was waiting already knowing what was about to happen. “The execution of it all will probably be a bit messy.”

Ezekiel’s expression didn’t lose the worry.

Outside the window, the summer heat was coming off the patio in waves distorting the view beyond. Soft chatter behind him reminded him of where he was and what he was doing. He turned only to be startled to find Ezekiel barely a step away. The man’s hands were wrapped around his arms as he swayed a bit too far off balance from the mild fright. He offered an embarrassed grin. “Sorry. You startled me,” he offered lamely.

Ezekiel’s expression was surprisingly controlled as the other man offered him a soft smile. “I noticed. I came over to see if you wanted anything to eat. You barely touched any of your breakfast.”

He shook his head, hands splaying themselves on Ezekiel’s well dressed chest. “I’m ok for now. Thank you, though.” His gaze went to those in the room.

Warren and Brekon were on the couch asleep both heavily covered by blankets that hid the serious injuries they had both sustained. Hidden even by bandages were the pale starburst markings of Velgrath’s gift to them both at the cost of the S-Ona’s existence. Pandora was sitting with Madam Van, the young boy he had briefly met an hour ago asleep on her lap. He knew Aiden was somewhere close in the freshly repaired mansion toting around the two little girls and smallest boy that made up the rest of his and Pandora’s little family. Probably the kitchen if Ezekiel’s mention of wanting anything to eat was anything to go by. The three M-Ona were still huddled around his journals for some reason, Pandora and Aiden’s eldest boy smack dab in the middle of the trio wide eyed.

He didn’t recognize the seven other moving bodies in the room but that was probably fine.

He looked back at Ezekiel and briefly wondered how long he had been lost in thought. Ezekiel’s touch was still on his arms, gentle and soothing and oh so patient. He smiled up at him. “Sorry. Being without Sight and magic seems to have robbed me of more than I thought.”

Ezekiel pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I doubt you were robbed of anything but those, love. Come. The others will be joining us soon.”

Outside the window the snow was drifting through the still night air. He felt Ezekiel shift on the bed behind him but the small body resting against his chest kept him awake at the dead of night. He had to concentrate to get magic to warm the blankets a bit more and he felt both bodies relax again. He returned his attention to the snow and waited.

Nothing came. No vision of a moment, no impression of events to come, no understanding that he shouldn’t know. Nothing. No voice, no presence, no swell of magic.

Instead he found the exhaustion that comes with raising a child barely in school and twin babes. He found the quiet hum of magic far softer than the magic he had grown accustom to. He found a peace he had never known had existed till he had everything that had made him who he was ripped away and then shoved back into his arms.

All but Sight.

He shifted in the bed, settling the little body against Ezekiel’s chest before curling around the small child and into Ezekiel’s chest himself.

But that was to be expected. Sight had left all that had possessed it. It would be a long time before it returned to any again like that.

The little body between him and Ezekiel burrowed deeper into the warmth in its sleep.

Well, that depended on perspective. To the Ona, it would be a brief pause in Earth’s existence before Sight would be needed again.

[ArtisticVicu]

Playing with Fire
It had been years since he had last seen his old friend. In all honesty, he hadn't realized how long till said friend walked into the inn's common space and sat down beside him looking far more male than the gender neutral he remembered from their early years together. What history is there is glossed over as he's coaxed into telling his old friend just what they were about to get into. He hoped that he and his old friend would be enough, though. They couldn't underestimate this city's populous.

The lute strings sang under his fingers and the words of some song fell from his lips without him being overly aware of what exactly it was he was performing. The common space was full, though, and there were people singing along or chatting happily with companions and strangers so he figured he was in the clear with paying more attention to the people than his music.

Bodies were constantly moving throughout the space so the figure entering shouldn't have drawn his eye as they had. Many here wore hoods for whatever reason but this figure seemed off to him. None of the other patrons noticed. Heck, the figure cut right through a talking pair and the duo didn't so much as blink at the figure. This way and that the figure weaved and this way and that he tracked their progress till the figure was sitting at the table he had claimed for himself, a pretty metal bowl on the table for tips. It had a decent amount in it. He hoped it was enough to leave him a few gold richer when he paid the owners for putting up with him.

He let the little gaunt end and the room erupted into cheers. He grinned and tucked the lute away as one of the staff came over bearing a tray of food. He hadn't ordered and he certainly hadn't seen his new companion order anything either.

"Well played, minstrel," the young dwarf offered, placing the food on the table. Apparently someone was buying him a meal because he had already eaten what he had paid for a few hours ago. "Seems the room took a liking to ya." As if to solidify the point, a few patrons darted in and dropped a few coins into the bowl. He caught sight of the glint of gold and was humbled as much as he was grateful.

He offered the dwarf a smile. "I have you and yours to thank for that. Let your ma know I'll get the coin separated out and to her before I'm done here."

The dwarf nodded, offering a quick, "Will do," before heading to the kitchen.

He turned to his new companion, arching an eyebrow at them. "Meal from you or a different admirer, Soren?"

The figure smiled, tugging the hood back and away. He belatedly realized the cloak was wet. Must have started raining. "Good to see you too, Verena."

He grinned. "Hey, I didn't order any of this." Soren chuckled, low and deep. Verena's gaze flickered over the other, taking in the changes the years had done. Vey still had a head of red hair, skin still darker than what he remembered of veir father's, but what softness that had been there making the other's lack of gender obvious wasn't there. "Presenting more male nowadays?"

The amusement left Soren's expression and he gained a shrug as an answer. "Makes it easier to get by most of the time."

He frowned, watching as Soren closed off to him. His pulse quickened and for a fleeting moment fear gripped his soul. "Soren." He didn't gain the other's gaze like he had hoped and he reached out, grabbing at their arm. "Soren," he repeated. Those amber brown eyes finally focused on him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"A lot. Most of it not good."

His heart fell at that. "Ah, Soren." He shook his head, removing his touch. "You should have said no when I reached out."

Soren shook his head in turn. "It's nice remembering what I can of the times before the bad. Besides, it sounded like you really needed the help."

"I would have asked for help elsewhere but when I had heard of what you've been doing, I had hoped you'd come with company."

Another shake no. "We were in the middle of serious business that, in the end, turned to being safer that I came alone. I've got ways to reach out to them if we need assistance or when I'm heading back." Soren fixed him with an accusing look. "It hadn't sounded like it would need much force. We're just going after some kid, yeah?"

"An Aarakocra so age isn't really something we can go off."

"An Aarakocra."

His gaze flickered across the room before he nodded towards a patron not far off. "Winged. Looks more like a bird than a human. The winged human two tables to the left is an Aasimar."

"Hmm." It took a moment for Soren's gaze to return to him. "So we're going after some Aarakocra. Why?"

Verena leaned back in his chair, cup in hand. "I owe Zerros a favor and his wife's family owns this inn. They had sent this Aarakocra - Artemis, if I'm remembering correctly - off on some courier trip but haven't seen a single feather of him since. He's somehow a friend of the family despite him only having been here because of the caravan he was riding with. Caravan leader is a family friend, apparently."

"Why send us in and not the city guard or something?"

Verena arched an eyebrow over the rim of his cup. He let his chair fall back onto four legs as he put the emptier cup down. "You don't know much about the town we're in, do ya?"

Soren arched an eyebrow. "Wouldn't be asking if I did."

Verena grinned. "Town's built on the Black Market," he explained, voice low to the point where Soren was forced to lean closer; "quite literally in some areas. Place is an intense maze of buildings and back alleys despite it's small size. Most things are tall because the surrounding lands are extremely fertile for crops and no one wanted to encroach on the farmlands but the number of people coming and staying kept increasing. So, they built skyward."

"Quite literally how?" Soren asked equally quiet.

"There's some hidden history here but from what I've overheard, there'd been a city in the area. A massive city. Something had happened that came in and not only killed everyone who lived here but also sank the city beneath a good layer of earth. What remains of that city has created a cavern system that's almost like catacombs beneath our feet and it houses a lot of the Black Market for the surrounding areas."

"So we're infiltrating this Black Market and freeing an Aarakocra that, what, looks like an eagle?"

Verena shook his head. "A barn swallow. It's a small blue and copper colored bird with a forked tail. Unusual in these parts from what I've been told. Supposedly Artemis is from the southern continent."

"Hmm." Soren leaned back, crossing his arms. "When do we leave then?"

"Do you need to rest?"

"No. I had camped not too far off so the walk was easy. I'm good to go whenever."

"Cool. Let's finish eating then and I'll go get my things and drop off what I owe to June."

Just over an hour later they found themselves beneath the city. Verena's tail was wrapped tightly around Soren's belt only because Soren had warned him about the high possibility of getting burned holding onto veir wrist. They were standing in the shadows of a tunnel that crossed the one they needed but there were people there talking. Verena crouched closer to the ground as the voices got louder, Soren pulling back to as far as Verena's tail could reach before following suit.

The duo they had been waiting on walked by without even noticing too caught up in their conversation. Verena didn't recognize the language and he didn't ask if Soren did.

Deeper into the maze they went, finding that it wasn't just one level when the floor caved in under Soren's feet. Verena was yanked in after vem. They came across stairs that led another level down.

An unusually warm hand gripped at his tail and he froze, suddenly alert, but the only thing that happened was Soren getting close and whispering into his ear, "Next left. Should lead us somewhere." He frowned back at Soren, who shrugged. "I'm running off of a hunch of what I remember of the upper levels. Just go with it."

Verena raised both eyebrows at that but followed Soren's words. He took the next left and followed it, keeping straight when Soren made no move to correct his direction.

Somewhere was right. Verena found the tunnel ending at a door and the amount of noise coming from beyond it proved Soren's statement lacking. With a quick glance back at his companion, Verena opened the door enough to see.

The room beyond was massive compared to what they had been traveling through. The room itself was two levels high and the noise beyond didn't echo horribly like it should have. Crates, cages, and containers filled the space of varying sizes. Bodies were moving everywhere, whether it was moving freight about or simply walking through. A few bodies were stagnant here and there but attentions were nowhere near the door he and Soren were at.

"Damn," Soren hissed, as Verena closed the door. "Ideas?"

"One. But I don't know how useful it'll be."

"Try me."

He started digging through his pack. "I know a spell, concentration based that I can hold for about ten minutes. Let's me see and hear what's going on around the target. Only," he pulled out a copper tinged down feather and tucked it into his braid for safe keeping before he went back to digging, "I haven't had the chance to get a focus for it yet."

"What kind of focus?"

He looked up at Soren, "A crystal ball or a silver mirror, the expensive kind. Like, at least 1,000 gold pieces expensive kind." He went digging again. "A holy water font would work too but I have neither a font nor that amount of holy water."

A water skin bumped his arm and he stared at it, bewildered, before looking up at Soren again. The other shrugged. "Endless supply of holy water. A gift from a friend blessed by Silvanus and enchanted by the Fae Queen. There's only one other like it and I am to return this to said friend as soon as I'm heading back to my company."

His hands wrapped around the water skin in shock. Standing abruptly, he uncapped the water skin and pressed the opening against the palm of his hand. He flipped the whole thing over and let magic do the rest.

The change in perspective was jarring but he had sight of a small Aarakocra with a coppery toned off white chest, blue feathers rich around the copper red feathers of the face and throat. The stout wings and deep forked tail were black from the underside. He bristled at how the small being was strung out, stout wings flat and open wide against the bars of some cage, tail clamped open. Nothing appeared clipped yet, which was a blessing in its own right, but it was clear there had been some rough treatment already.

He shuddered feeling Soren's hand on his tail and it took him a second to get both sensory inputs to agree. It turned into where his focus went, like one was a window with a scene and the other was the stage performance before him. The sounds stayed. Soren's expression was worried as he met veir gaze. "I'm ok. I can split it, be here and there but I have to focus to see one or the other. The sounds will blend but I can keep quiet. I can move. The spell will follow Artemis if he's moved."

Soren nodded. "What do you see?"

Verena turned his focus back to Artemis and looked around. "Cage with thick bars. I can see through them, see the room beyond. I'm trying to see if there's anything significant in the area I can use to get us there."

The perspective was horrible and even when he moved the spell to the edge of the spell's tether, he still couldn't make anything significant out.

The roar made him jump but it was faint when he came back to Soren, eyes wide as adrenaline shot through him. "Artemis is in a cage close to that sound. We'll have to just run in and head for it. I should recognize the area when we get close enough but I don't have anything else to lead us with."

"Stay close then."

Another roar tore through the space as Soren opened the door. What had been a room of organized and calm action was now utter chaos. There were bodies running all over the place, creatures throwing their voices to the noise of the space, and Verena stumbled after Soren when the other took off at a run. For a moment, his heart leapt into his throat. Someone was bound to stop them.

But Soren was running straight towards the roars, body thrumming with determination so potent, Verena could make it out from behind him and he realized what Soren was doing. No one was going to bother them as long as he followed Soren's silent lead.

He cut the spell when he gained sight of Soren from the cage's perspective. He overtook Soren, coming to the edge of the cage as another roar erupted into the space. They were at the back wall of the large space but there was an open doorway next to Artemis's cage. Beyond it was a short hallway or tunnel that opened into a different space. He could make out the flicker of firelight.

"A dragon," Soren spoke for him. He met Soren's amber brown eyes and the other grinned at him. "No better distraction than their own merchandise. How good are you with locks?"

Verena blinked. "Depends. Am I trying to be stealthy?" Soren gave him a bewildered look and he rushed, "I know a spell - Knock. It's well named as it gives off a very loud knock sound when it unlocks something. I've got enough magic to use it on all of Artemis's bindings and cage but it won't be stealthy."

Another roar drew both their gazes and Verena caught the mischievous grin out of the corner of his eye. "Time it with the roars. We should be fine."

Verena moved into place, asking, "And if the roars stop?"

Soren's right hand ignited. "I can make sure they don't."

Verena sent him a worried look. A roar ripped through the space and he almost missed the chance. The cage door unlocked as a loud knock blended with the roar. Verena's heart was in his throat. "Soren, I don't think that's a good idea. We're already in the pan. No need to go playing with the fire, too."

Soren laughed. "Ren, playing with fire is in my blood. It's who and what I am." Another loud roar, another knock as the lock on Artemis's tail came undone. The Aarakocra didn't even twitch from any of the sounds around him. "Just get the kid to safety."

Soren took off down the hallway at a quick pace. Verena's tail flicked anxiously behind him, waiting. Four- no, five more locks and they could leave. He just hoped Soren could get either long enough roars or the right number for him to get Artemis out of there.

Screams suddenly echoed down the hallway but the bellowed roar was far louder and he managed two locks with the two loud knocks within it. His heart clenched. "Please be careful, Soren," he muttered to himself, hands running over the Aarakocra looking for injuries as he waited for the next roar. "I don't want to exchange your life for his."

Another roar, only one lock.

"It wouldn't be fair."

[ArtisticVicu]

Something begins, Something ends
The last box was taped and taken by the movers. Now she was left to say goodbye to the one soul she really didn't want to leave behind.

Movement. Bodies. Everything was organized chaos. Chatter filled the home, echoes of laughter chasing the minutes that ticked by. Heavy feet trudged paths into every room, to every corner of the home, back and forth, back and forth. The packaging tape unraveling, boxes being dragged, and the crinkling of paper filled the room as she kept working, matching the tempo of the rest of the bodies in the home as best she could.

“Last one?” someone asked, a pair of feet stopped a respectful distance away as she taped the flaps shut.

“Yeah. All yours,” she confirmed, standing and moving back.

The person picked the box up and left, leaving her to register the question fully.

The room was bare save for the old furniture being left behind; any signs that there had been anything more were few and hard to see. The noises in the home quieted, mimicking the silence of her own thoughts as she stood there staring into space..

“You alright?”

She looked towards the familiar voice and smiled. “Yeah. Just thinking. Kind of.” Her gaze drifted around the room again. “I keep expecting this to start feeling weird but,” she focused back on him, the smile returning, “I guess it really is time for me to move out.”

“Is that supposed to feel weird?”

She grinned at that. “Probably not but I keep expecting it to feel like it. Don’t get me wrong. It’s weird to think this is the last time I’ll be in this room but there’s not the…dreamlike sensation that I keep thinking should be associated with it. I lived here for so long and so much has happened and yet it seems oddly easy to finally leave it all behind.”

He finally entered the room, chuckling as she sat on the bed. “You know,” he offered, perching on the bed next to her, “they say that when something begins, something ends; an equivalent exchange of sorts.” He met her curious gaze. “Maybe it doesn’t feel weird because this is what is supposed to happen. There’s nothing left for you here and so much more waiting for you there.”

“You’re still here,” she pointed out, the words coming out edging on a whisper.

He chuckled again. “Well, yes, but that can’t be helped.”

“Come with me?” she tried one last time.

She held his gaze when he looked at her again; his gaze was sorrowful but determined. “You know I can’t. It’ll be better if I stayed here. That way they can’t follow you there.”

She accepted his words. After all, they had spent long enough arguing about it that she had been expecting the answer. Didn’t hurt to try, at least. “Will you be ok?”

He nodded. “I’ll leave as soon as you’re clear of the state.” He looked out the window. “Speaking of: the movers are gone and you have a plane to go catch.” He stood up. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Beckett.” He stilled at the door, looking back. She stood at the edge of the bed, a hand clasped around her necklace. “You’ll protect the next family, right? No more deaths?”

He offered her an encouraging smile. “No more deaths,” he assured her. “Mine will be the last one caused by their hands.”

She searched his face looking for anything that would tell her he was lying. A determined look crossed her face and she pulled the necklace off.

He took a startled step towards her, reaching out. “Brittney-”

She smiled at him. “I still hate that name, you know.” His hand lowered back to his side as she held the necklace tight. “I want to leave this behind just in case. So that you have something to help you protect the next family.”

He shook his head. “You don’t-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” She stepped around him, through the hall, and down the stairs to the front door. There was a small trash pile by the door and the breath mints tin was still there. With quick hands, she wrapped the necklace in a strip of fabric from the pile of trash before tucking it into the tin. She then wrapped the tin in a chunk of torn cling wrap. Getting to her feet, she opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. The air smelled of rain. She hurried down the steps and hooked around the right railing into the flowerbed. It looked far more welcoming than it had when her mom had first bought the place. She reached to the middle of the dirt patch under the stairs and made a hole as deep as her hand could reach. The tin made a faint plopping sound at the bottom of her crude hole and she put the dirt back, packing it back in as best she could at the odd angle. She brushed her hands off on her pants as she returned to the walk, looking at the door. He was standing there watching her with curious eyes. She grinned at him. “Now you can tell them where it is if they need it.”

“And if I’m no longer here?”

She shrugged. “Then it’ll help protect the house.” She stopped at the door. He hadn’t moved away and she had yet to treat him as anything other than another person. “Beckett, I need my bag.”

He sighed heavily. “I know but you’re vulnerable now.”

She reached out and despite the fact that her hand went through his, she knew the intent was perceived. “I’ll be just fine. You’re more than enough to keep them back now.”

His expression spoke loudly of how much he didn’t like this but he did step back.

She didn’t miss the fact that his hand briefly gained some semblance of solid as he took a hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Be quick.”

She crossed the ten feet to her bag and jacket and was back out the door before she could take a second breath. His hand slipped from hers at the door and she turned to face him again. She could barely make out the stairs through him now. “That should be everything.”

He smiled at her. “I hope life is kind to you, Bree.”

“And may the afterlife be kind to you, Beckett.” She slung her bag onto her shoulder and walked down the steps. She didn’t look back till she was on the sidewalk outside of the home’s property. She was saddened to see the front door closed and the house looking empty. Beckett was nowhere to be seen.

She turned and started for the bus station. She had faith that Beckett would be fine but she had hoped to see him one last time before leaving him behind for good. Hopefully he wouldn’t be tied to the house for much longer, too.

[ArtisticVicu]

Bittersweet
Death can't be avoided but love can. When Garlock falls in battle, Soren finally says the words he should have said months ago.

They shouldn’t have split up. They should have stayed with the rest of the group or been more prepared. They should have been-

The last body thudded against the ground unmoving and for a moment Soren stood there in a fighting stance panting. Everything hurt, exhaustion made his body feel like it was made of lead, and the fact that he was still on his feet was a miracle he wasn’t going to question. But a wet cough from behind him shot movement back through his body and the borrowed sword clattered to the ground as he ran back to his companion.

“Garlock,” came out choked and pained as he knelt on scraped knees. His hands shook as he pressed against the massive wound bleeding Garlock dry. He gained a low moan but very little else from the orc. Tears stung the back of his eyes and blurred his vision. The fight had been too long, had drained him of every drop of magic. Now he was left to watch the other die. “Come on. Don’t die on me. Hilde’ll be here soon.”

Why hadn’t he saved enough magic for one last spell? He had taken on the spell just in case - he even had the materials for it - but without magic, the materials were nothing but dead weight in his bag.

Another wet cough but this time one of those emerald eyes opened enough to look at him. The corner of Garlock’s mouth ticked up. Soren couldn’t tell if it was a grimace or an attempt to smile. “Don’t think…I have much choice, Soren,” Garlock whispered, voice raw and words weak lacking any real air to support them. A wet cough stole more of his strength. It took far too long for that emerald eye to open again. “You’ll tell…you’ll tell her I’m sorry…won’t you? That I…I waited…as best I could.”

The sob tore itself from his chest. He choked on it, denying it as he shook his head. Tears streaked down his face but he didn’t notice. “You’ll tell her yourself, you idiot. She’ll be here in time. You’re going to be fine.”

Lies. Every word. And they both knew it. They had strayed too far.

A grimy hand pressed against the side of his head, his cheek, and he pinned it there with one covered in the other’s blood as another sob escaped him. “Hey,” Garlock croaked. Soren could hear the struggle when Garlock pulled a breath in. He hated it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t….couldn’t be strong enough…to wait for you, too.”

“No,” escaped his chest, overtaking the sob that had wanted to escape instead.

“That I…wasn’t strong enough to…to stay by your side…love.”

The hand went lax in his grip and he shook his head violently. He pressed the hand into his shoulder, pinning it there. “Don’t apologize for that! I should’ve-” he choked on the words- “I should have told you, should have gotten off that damn fence and finally told you I love you.” He couldn’t see the other through the tears any more but Garlock’s fingers curled slightly, some of the strength returning. “I should have told you months ago and I-” Sobs stole his ability to speak and he curled forward, pressing his forehead against Garlock’s shoulder.

The hand he had pinned to his shoulder moved into his hair, fingers quaking as they carded through the filthy strands. “Hey…it’s ok.”

Soren jerked back but pain flared in his back from some wound he had forgotten about. It kept him close as he glared through the tears. “No it’s not! I led you on with the hope that someday I’d say it back and I never did! Not until I couldn’t say it a thousand times for the rest of eternity.” The words died on his tongue. The sobs took their place.

“Oh, love,” Garlock sighed. There was slight pressure from Garlock’s hand and Soren rested his forehead against the other’s. “You could…still tell me now.”

No matter how weak those words had been, he heard the joy, the teasing, and the chuckle tangled with the next sob. He blinked his vision clear enough to meet Garlock’s gaze as the amusement and amazement cut through the sorrow. It didn’t stop the tears but it brought a watery smile to his face. “I love you,” he offered, pouring his heart into every word. “I love you so much, Garlock.”

Garlock smiled up at him but the hand at the back of Soren’s head lost its strength. “I’m so happy.” Soren lowered the hand to Garlock’s chest. His tears mingled with Garlock’s on the orc’s cheeks. “I love you too, Soren.” Soren pulled back as another cough tore at Garlock. When the orc settled, that emerald eye didn’t open. Every breath got weaker, rattling and wheezing in and out. “Loved you both.” More tears raced down Garlock’s cheeks. “Bittersweet…as it was.”

It was like a blow to the chest he couldn’t breathe through. “I’m so sorry, Garlock,” he urged, touching the other’s face, wiping away the tears.

“Love…you,” cut through before he could keep going.

“I love you too,” he offered around a strangled sob, pressing a kiss to Garlock’s lips. “I love you.” A kiss to a cheek. “I love you.”

The chest beneath him stilled.

He was fairly certain he had screamed. His throat certainly ached and his chest was tight like he had wailed for a long time after but he couldn’t remember as the sound of hurried footfall pulled him out of the exhausted dozing he had fallen into.

He had managed to get himself sitting before a body collided with him, though it probably only felt like it due to how tired he was and the amount of pain that flared from the contact. The smell of herbs, wood, and a hint of electricity filled his senses and he clung to Hilde, a fresh wave of sobs overtaking him. An oddly detached thought questioned why she was clinging to him and not trying to save Garlock. He knew it would have been wasted but she wouldn’t know that.

Maybe she did because her hands were firm against him and warm with healing magic. Maybe she did because her voice wavered as she tried to get him to talk, to tell her what had happened as she tended to his wounds. Maybe she did because when she couldn’t do anything more, she clung to him just as desperately, sobbing just as hard for whatever few minutes they had left before they had to move on.

[ArtisticVicu]

A Force to be Reckoned With
Sometimes the past comes back to haunt you in person. Caught unaware but among friends, Soren is pinned down by the neck by a man he could have sworn he would never see again. But as his friends move to his aid, Soren can't let his past harm his future.

Alok stood abruptly first but it was only by half a second. Aelfwyne stood with him, both reaching for daggers with different degrees of confusion and some form of anger on their faces as they glared down something over Soren's head. There were words on their lips, warnings, but whatever they had seen moved too quickly, or they were just too slow to react.

Soren sat up straight, Garlock's arm falling from around him but that was all the reaction he was permitted. A searing pain flared at the back of his neck as he was forcibly shoved into the table and pinned to the wood by a hand full of ice magic.

If he cried out in pain or in fear, he was deaf to it.

Memories - buried, horrible memories - resurfaced with a vengeance and for one horrifying moment he wondered if the last three years had all been some twisted farce because there was no way - none, not a chance; it couldn't-shouldn't be him, there was no way it was him - it was the man he knew had just pinned him to the table by the back of his neck.

But just as suddenly as the hand had appeared, it vanished and he looked back in time to see Hilde follow through with a punch she had connected with the man's - no, why, please - face. Surprisingly, though, the man slammed into his people, a cry of pain escaping as the man recoiled from the hit. The man gingerly touched what was most likely a broken nose, blood steaming down his face. The rage that filled the man's eyes, though, got turned onto the wrong person.

Hilde was standing between Soren and the man, feet planted and staff in hand. The other hand - the one she had connected with the man’s face - was shaken out, as if her hand stung from the blow. But even if he trusted her to hold her own - be it magic or melee - he didn’t dare let the man try.

"Submit!" Soren Commanded, the spell slamming into the man still nursing a bleeding nose. Soren found himself braced against an arm and realized Garlock had put a protective arm across his chest. He couldn't remember grabbing at it, let alone pressing against it in his attempt to get to Hilde, to put himself between her and that man. Soren vaguely registered he was quaking against Garlock's arm.

Said man snarled against the spell, turning that anger on Soren. Soren increased the spell's strength and repeated the Command, though this time the word lacked the frantic energy that had bolstered the last one. "Submit," rolled off his tongue as the magic wrapped around his target. The man briefly lost his rage and sank to his knees, as did two of his persons. He sucked in a breath before confirming what he guessed Garlock and Hilde were probably suspecting. "Cyrus."

The spell was fleeting, relinquishing its hold as soon as the command was met. But where Cyrus's two people returned to their feet, Cyrus remained on his knees. The man grinned at him. "Soren." The man all but purred his name and he suppressed the shudder as best he could. "How has life been since you ran away?" The glint in the man's gaze was the only warning he got. "Has my genasi been happily spreading its legs for its new Master?"

There was a surge of movement around him and a different panic filled him. "No!" escaped his throat just as severe as any Command but there was no magic behind it. Regardless, those that had surged forward to defend him stilled. Hilde was still firmly planted between him and Cyrus, unmoving and clearly ready for a fight but he did gain her gaze, though it was partial and over her shoulder.

Cyrus laughed. Soren was unable to hide the shudder that raced through him. “Well, well,” Cyrus drawled, amused as he slowly got to his feet. The grin that stretched across the man’s face was not kind. “Looks like you’ve found yourself quite the company, genasi. Did you buy them or did they buy you? I doubt it was anything mutual.”

It was Hilde’s voice that answered, unnaturally calm with the given situation. "No one needs to be bought in order to find better company." Hilde's eyes narrowed as she turned back to Cyrus. "And last time I checked, he isn't yours."

"He belongs to no one," Garlock pitched in, voice low and threatening. Pinned to Garlock's front had the orc's voice vibrating through his back and it soothed the edges of the painful memories. Soren closed his eyes and worked to get himself back under control. "And you will never have him again."

Cyrus gave a bark of a laugh and a cold rage started to replace the panic and fear. "You think you lot are enough to keep it out of my grasp?

He opened his eyes finally in a mindset he wished he had ended up in when Cyrus had first grabbed him. Calmer and annoyed, Soren took a step forward. Garlock’s arm tightened around him but he gave the orc a soft smile and a softer, “I’m alright. I’m just going to talk with him.”

“Please,” Cyrus drawled. “I've easily dealt with threats for things far more valuable. That genasi is nothing more than unfinished business and you will not keep it from me."

Garlock frowned, the anger and concern warring on the other’s face. For half a second he expected Garlock to fight him, to tell him no and keep him pinned there, but Garlock’s arm fell away and Soren was left a pace ahead of Garlock.

When he approached Hilde’s side, he was not surprised to hear Garlock stepping up behind the both of them.

“Enough, Cyrus. What do you want?”

Cyrus sneered at him. “Really? You have to ask.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “I highly doubt one measly genasi held your interested enough to chase after, unfinished business aside.” He caught Hilde shifting beside him and he wondered if it was due to his phrasing. Not that he was going to be overly kind for this conversation. “We’re a dime a dozen according to you.”

“A dime a-you were going to go for more than any whore I sold!” Cyrus spat, taking a step forward and pointing a finger at Soren. Hilde and Garlock impressed Soren by staying in place but even he could tell that it had been a fight to do so. “A fire genasi like you, burned and far more human than the others was an oddity - an interest point for a number of sellers. Your ability to shift between male and female so easily made you especially tantalizing.”

Soren scoffed at that, waving the comment off. “Any genasi can do that.”

“Over a few months and with some difficulty,” Cyrus corrected, the words arrogant, like he had the upper hand again, “but you could do it in less than an hour with apparent ease. And that makes you as rare as they come.” There was a laugh in the following words. “You truly do not know how valuable you are, how rare you are, which makes you a prized possession on the auction block.”

Soren glanced at his companions, curious. Most were glaring at Cyrus or the man’s goons, but when they caught his gaze, they acknowledged him. Alok and Soala gave a stoic nod, Aelfwyne gained a grin full of bloody promises, and Rava smiled from around her drawn bow, giving a sharp nod. Hilde and Garlock’s expressions were serious but both reached out; Hilde gave his hand a squeeze and Garlock placed a hand on his shoulder. None of them were letting Cyrus take him anywhere.

Soren returned his attention to Cyrus. He shrugged. “Well, unfortunately for you, I’m not one of your slaves to sell.”

“Do not test me, genasi. I trained you to submit to me and I know that training is still there.”

Soren returned the man’s glare with a dark look. “Oh, the training’s still there, but that doesn’t mean you can control me with it.”

Cyrus gave another bark of a laugh. “Want to bet?”

A vicious grin stretched across his face. “I wouldn’t if I were you, Cyrus.” The man’s name came off softer yet heavily emphasized. If the man didn’t take this seriously, it wasn’t on Soren. “I am stronger and far more capable than I had been the last time you had seen me and my companions are a force to be reckoned with. You try and follow through with your desire, you will not leave here alive.”

Not that the man would remain alive for long. Soren wanted him dead if for nothing more than the assurance that Cyrus couldn’t sell anymore people.

Unfortunately - or fortunately - Cyrus hadn’t changed and pulled a nasty looking scimitar in response. Soren sighed. He chuckled, shaking his head. With a smirk at Cyrus, he offered, “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

A well aimed arrow shot past Hilde’s head, embedding itself into Cyrus’s shoulder. A second arrow came from Soren’s left - Alok must have pulled his own bow - and as that arrow took out one of Cyrus’s goons, two very pissed displacer beasts materialized. A growl from behind spoke of a Grim coming out to play as well.

Soren was certain this was the first time true fear showed itself on Cyrus’s face, even if it was just for a second.

[ArtisticVicu]

Springtime Joy
He could live for another thousand of her kind's generations and he would probably still be thinking of her. She had changed his perspective and while there may have been a time he resented that, he couldn't dream of ever relinquishing the gift she had given him. If only his kind wasn't as long lived as it was. Then maybe he could help them be better than her kind.

He turned his face towards the still rising star, closing his eyes so that he could focus on the warmth he could feel on his face. Where the darker material of his body absorbed the heat greedily, the material of his head warmed slowly from the sun’s touch.

“What are you doing.”

Amusement filled him at the disapproving tone of the other. He had grown used to driving them all crazy with the habits he had picked up from her and found he enjoyed it more and more as time went on. His kind were certainly stubborn and deserved all the discomfort he could allot them.

“Enjoying the sunlight,” he offered pleasantly, eyes still closed and face still towards the sun. The smile was very apparent in his voice, though. “Yourself?”

A hand pushed at the base of his head, forcing it over. “Stop that. You are not human.”

He let his head move with the force, unperturbed by it. He simply kept his head aloft, letting it roll completely over before pulling it back to center over his neck, the face pointed at the sun once more. He had yet to open his eyes. “Never said I was,” he returned cordially. He did open one eye at the other, letting his cheekiness be very apparent. “You and the others keep insisting as if I’ve fully revoked what I am and have become one of them.”

“Your behaviors say you have.”

He huffed, though it was a mimic of the sound and motion since he had no lungs to compress and no nose to make the noise with. He closed his eye and returned to feeling the sun on his face. “My behaviors are nothing more than idle things you all should try at some point. Humans have the most interesting behaviors.”

“And you’ve partaken in every single one.”

It was an accusation dripping with derision. He laughed. “Oh, not at all,” he offered, finally turning his face towards the other and opening his eyes. A part of him was disappointed he had no mouth for he was certain he would be grinning at the other. It certainly felt like how she described it would feel to want to grin, to show just how vindictive one can be by baring teeth. “I lack a number of the organs to try many of their behaviors.” He straightened himself out, properly facing the other. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t tried what I can.” His gaze drifted over what counted as the other’s shoulder. Unlike him, many had refused to take on anything that could be counted as humanoid. He was unsurprised to see the movement that had drawn his attention was someone of importance. “Are you here for a reason, Commander Durnranth?” he asked, focusing back on the other. “Or are you here to simply kill time by harassing me.”

“Are you harassing Ambassador Rejak again, Commander Durnranth?” The voice was light, airy. She had said that it reminded her of a young girl which she had then explained made the owner of the voice all that more of a threat to humankind; no grown male adult ever wanted to be commanded by a child. Unfortunately for the human race, his kind did not do gender and age was a novelty very few held any value to, let alone to such standards as to consider it any form of ranking. Highest Jur was Highest for a reason, their vocal choice and apparent ‘age’ never questioned. Each of his kind held their place for a reason and while that place may change over time, he was lucky enough to be in Highest Jur’s favor even after everything he had done. “You know what happens when you pick on my favored, Commander Durnranth.”

Commander Durnranth gave the equivalent of a bow. He noted offhandedly for not the first time and certainly not the last that since he started paying attention to human behaviors and mannerisms, comparing the two had become habitual. To watch Durnranth’s form bend in a fashion he was familiar with only to note how differently it was for humans for the same term was both amusing and tiring. He doubted that he would ever be able to stop doing such a thing.

“Rejak.” Highest Jur’s voice had settled into an alto, almost tenor range and he realized that it was just him and Highest Jur. Commander Durnranth and Highest Jur’s escort had vacated the area. He was fairly certain this was not the first attempt at getting his attention. “Is everything alright.”

“Of course, Highest Jur,” he assured them, amusement and gratitude coloring his tone. “Just lost in thought as of late.”

“Missing the Little Miss.”

He chuckled. He had forgotten that Highest Jur had latched onto that nickname after Obith had called her that once. She had put a stop to it immediately but it seemed she never broke Highest Jur of it. “Yes. Missing Bethany.”

Highest Jur simply looked at him for a moment before they turned their body, gesturing with what equated as a hand for them. “Accompany me, Rejak.”

He fell into step beside Highest Jur without a thought, his feet barely leaving an impression in the grass. Highest Jur - like most of their kind - simply floated over the grass. Unlike him, Highest Jur was holding the material that created their form in a shape that was most definitely not humanoid but was very recognizable for any of his kind. The shape had no “legs” but there was a very apparent “head”. After that, the only other distinguishable thing humans seemed to care about were the “hands” and even then the appendages couldn’t truly be called “hands”. Still, she had grown accustom to his kind’s ability to mold their forms and it seemed the rest of her kind was adapting to that notion as well, though a lot of them far slower than she had.

They traveled the grounds in silence for some time but he didn’t mind. It allowed his gaze - and his thoughts - to wander the fields and structures. This particular area didn’t house very many humans but the fields were tended to by human hands and with the day still young and cool, the field was alive with movement.

Content and joy filled him as he watched a spattering of children run around playing some game. There were a few older children working too but most of the workers were adults. He remembered the short time where the humans had worked far harder to tend to their tasks than they did now. To the humans, it had been a good two or three generations worth of time but it had been enough for the humans to accept the knowledge that he and his kind were not there to rule them to breaking point. He had worked very hard to make sure that hadn’t happened.

And so had Beth.

He caught broken pieces of their language as he and Highest Jur passed. The adults were working, sure, but they talked and laughed and took their time. His favorite time was when the whole field would erupt into some song. He could hear the faint start of one but it didn’t sound like any that had covered the fields before.

“They are interesting beings.” He looked to Highest Jur, curious. Highest Jur, for their part, was looking at a trio of humans not far off. The trio were working in the ditch; from what he could tell, they were digging but for what task, he didn’t know. “Resilient. Forgiving. Patient.”

“Very much as we are,” he offered, though he wasn’t sure if that had been Highest Jur’s intent.

Highest Jur’s eyes fell upon him and he could make out the amusement and pride in the way their eyes were shaped. “Which is why I have been supporting you in your endeavor.” Highest Jur started along some path he couldn’t see and he realized that he had stopped at some point and Highest Jur had stopped with him. He fell back into step beside them. “I am glad it has not been wasted, even at the cries of outrage for the others.”

The path Highest Jur walked had them passing the trio in the ditch. Despite the generations that have passed, there was still some unease in the humans around those that did not take a humanoid shape. He heard one of the humans mutter something, potentially a slur that still clung to the fear that persisted. But when the humans slipped sideways in the ditch when the bank gave out under their foot, the human did not flinch when his hands wrapped around them, supporting them, the human did not flinch from his touch and even sent him a gracious smile, as did the other two. It wasn’t till the human was standing on their own two feet again being checked over and he had brought his hands back to himself that he realized why. The humans were working to clear some debris from the ditch and had he not interfered, the human would have been impaled by a sharp piece of debris. It wouldn’t have been deadly but it would have been a long recovery.

Maybe that lingering fear had less of a hold than he thought.

“I am concerned that you are getting too attached, Rejak.” He focused back on Highest Jur. The encounter hadn’t slowed him down and Highest Jur hadn’t changed their pace. “Or, more accurately: there are many that think the human influence is too great on you, that you have been and will continue to be corrupted by them till it consumes all of our race.”

He blinked at them, mildly surprised and put off by Highest Jur’s bluntness about the matter. “They sound as the humans had at the beginning of all this,” he pointed out, keeping his tone neutral as he pointed out his perspective. “Are you asking me to withdraw? The humans are not quite self sufficient yet to maintain this planet.”

Highest Jur laughed, their head thrown back in a distinctly human manner. “Oh, I am very much aware, Rejak, and I care not that there are those that have picked up the more negative human traits and characteristics.” Had Highest Jur teeth to bare, he was certain they would have been giving him a toothy grin. “This makes it easier for us to weed out those that would corrupt.”

“We are not as easily corrected as the humans,” he cautioned. “We live too long and our way of life does not hold value to time like the human lifespan and way of life does.”

“True. But it is a place to start.”

A gaggle of children raced by, all laughing and squealing and all just past the age of learning to run. They were being chased by a few older children and two young adults. All seemed to be having a good time.

“They are certainly a lively bunch,” Highest Jur commented, their amusement very clear in their words.

“Bethany would say it had something to do with the season shift, as if the warmer weather encouraged brighter moods.” For a moment, he couldn’t quite put together the tidbit she had given him. “She had called it something but I can’t seem to remember what it was.”

“Springtime joy.” He looked to Highest Jur but they were not looking at him. Instead, Highest Jur’s gaze was on a bird circling high above their heads. “If I remember correctly, Little Miss would use that term with derision and yet they partook in the joy themself.”

A bittersweet amusement filled his center. It felt like something was compressing the chest of his form from the inside. “She did not care for the behaviors of the other humans but her favorite season had been spring.”

A breeze curled around them and he closed his eyes to relish in its touch.

“It is a pity they live such short lives. Little Miss would have been so proud of how far the human race has come.”

That compressing feeling in his chest tightened and a set of hands curled against his chest without prompting. “Agreed,” he offered meekly.

Silence settled between them. After some time, he managed to open his eyes and bring his gaze to the world around him once more. Highest Jur didn’t speak but he knew that they had time to just be with him, to allow him the moment to miss her, to grieve her.

He wondered if the pain would ever lessen.

With how brightly humans burned, he doubted the mark she left would ever fade.

[ArtisticVicu]

Dancing in the Rain
She got caught in the rain, soaked to the bone along with everything on her person, but when she takes shelter from the rain, she finds herself meeting some very interesting people. Sometimes the worst situations lead to the greatest outcomes. At least, she hoped meeting these people would be a good outcome.

Everything was soaked. Her clothes were soaked, her bag was soaked, the work papers and her phone - all of it completely soaked as she stood under the shop awning. Tears blended with the rainwater on her face, sobs pouring from her chest unhindered. It was all she could do to remain standing tucked against the building.

“Hey, you ok, miss?”

The smell of cigarette smoke curled around her as her head snapped up, surprise interrupting the sobs. The shop door had opened and a man was leaning from the door frame looking at her. He took a step out of the door and straightened, facing her properly. “Want to come in and dry off? I’m sure a coworker has something you can wear while your clothes dry.”

She glanced at the shop, overwhelmed. The shop itself looked sketchy with things she didn’t recognize being sold and promoted. The man himself was in black skinny jeans, black tank top with some sort of graphic on it, and black knee high boots that had a full lace work and buckles. He wasn’t overly build but his tattooed arms looked like they could hold her in place with ease.

His brown eyes, though, were kind, careful, like he knew what he must look like to her and was doing his best not to scare her off. He felt bad for her - it was clear on his unshaven face - but it wasn’t demeaning like it could have been. If she was reading him right, he felt bad for her situation than anything else.

Her grip on her bag tightened. “O-ok,” she finally uttered.

He grinned at her. Beyond the slightly yellow coloring, he had a perfect smile. “Awesome. Come on in and we’ll get you wrapped up in something warmer.” He gestured into the shop even as he called into it. “Hey, Lacy! Come give this lady a hand!”

There was a shout from the back of the shop as she stepped in. He closed the door before stepping around her, whatever response sent back at his words jargon to her ears. He kept walking towards the back and seemed to understand the jargon because he shouted in turn, “Well then it’s a good thing she isn’t a customer!”

He disappeared between a set of shelves near the back. She remained dripping at the entrance but her gaze didn’t stay where he had vanished.

Now in the shop, she could see that it was a lot of everything. The area she stood in held the register to her left and music of all formats to her right. Instruments were tucked in along the walls or hung from the ceiling. The short racking that separated the music section from the rest of the shop was filled with knickknacks, small purchase items, and snacks. There was a section at the end that held a few clothing items. The section beyond the music section was books. Lots and lots of books packed into tall bookcases. Beyond the register was all sorts of games and game components. The short glass cases that defined the register area were packed with card packs, boxes of loose cards, all variety of video games, and dice. A lot of dice. The high shelves behind the counter that stretched along the wall were packed with figurines both in and out of boxes. There were wall units under the high shelves beyond the counter that held DVDs and video games for a wide range of consoles.

She found herself coming to a stop at the end of the music section at the start of the book section. The shop was far larger than it looked from the front. The tall shelves that held the games hid the opening in the left wall that led into a space full of tables. The tables were empty and the chairs tucked in neatly but the walls were covered in posters and a number of white boards and tv screens. There was a second counter that looked like a coffee shop counter with a display case of goods and a menu hanging on the wall. The remainder of the back area of the shop and wall were filled with racks of clothing and other accessories.

“On top of being a popular hangout space, we do an assortment of tournaments and DnD nights so the cafe’s been the best decision we’ve made with the old restaurant kitchen.”

She jumped, spinning around to face the new voice. The stranger she found herself facing had sounded female but her first visual impression said male. The stranger’s hair was short, the strands barely tall enough to hide the fingers that ran through it briefly. The outfit didn’t help. The stranger was wearing a blue jeans overalls dress over a black and white striped short sleeved shirt but there was no bust to be found. If the drape of the dress was anything to go by, though, the stranger’s body shape was more female than male with narrow shoulders and waist and wide hips.

“There’s also a few old arcade games in an office offshoot of the gaming room but I doubt that’s of much interested sopping wet. I’m Alix. Or Lacy, if you listen to Lent.” She frowned and the stranger grinned. They too had a slightly off white perfect smile. “It’s a blend of Alex and Alice. Just replace the ‘e’ in Alex with the ‘i’ in Alice and you get my name.”

“Why?” she found herself blurting through chattering teeth. The shop wasn’t exactly cold but it was cool enough that she was now freezing.

Alix shrugged, the grin now an encouraging smile. “Why not?” They gestured towards the doorway on the other wall. “Come on. Lent’s running a few towels through the dryer to warm them up for you and I’ll see if I have anything you can wear.” The stranger started for a door opposite the space full of tables. “If nothing else, we’ll find something in the shop in your size that you can have.”

The door led into a hallway that ended in a door a stretch to the left. A staircase ran along the opposite wall. The stairs and the hallway itself looked recently renovated compared to her first impressions of the shop. Her gaze drifted as she waited for Alix to close the door and take the lead; there were two other doors on the wall that had the door for the shop.

Alix took the stairs slowly, looking to her as they kept talking. “Lent owns the shop with his husband and leases out the second floor apartment to a small fraternity of a nearby college. Good batch of boys. They do a lot around here.”

They came to the second story landing as the only door opened on the wall opposite the top of the stairs. Two young men looking like stereotypical jocks stepped out and immediately beamed at Alix.

“We wondered what Lent was hollering about,” the first of the two commented, both of their gazes drifting to her for a moment.

“Do you need us to get anything?” the second offered, voice softer, calmer than his companion. “We’re doing a quick grocery run Picking up Lent’s list while we’re at it.”

Alix shook their head, starting for the next stretch of stairs. “I have an order in for the shop so don’t buy anything for it, regardless of what Lent says.”

“Ay, Captain!” the two men chorused. The softer spoken one started down the stairs as the first one paused at the edge of the stairs. “You sure you don’t need anything Alix? I could always call Brooke. She and a number of her girls live close by.”

“I’ll send a text if I need anything,” Alix returned, a large smile on their face. “Promise.”

The young man gave a determined nod before barreling down the stairs. Alix rolled their eyes before leading the rest of the way up the stairs. “Good batch but they can be a bit much sometimes.”

The third landing had a slanted ceiling over the stairs, as if they had stepped into the attic of the building. The only door on the landing was open into the apartment beyond and she hesitantly followed Alix into the very modern, very well kept living space. The apartment was an open floor plan with vaulted ceilings. The entire right wall was windows. Whatever view was beyond was obscured by the rain and she turned her attention to the rest of the space as Alix disappeared through a door at the other end of the space past the kitchen.

Chatter drifted into the living space as her shivering subsided. It was warmer in the apartment than it had been in the shop - not to mention the two flights of stairs she had climbed. A man she didn’t know stepped out of the bedroom with Alix.

“This is Lent’s husband Derrek.”

“Pleasure.” Derrek offered his hand and a soft smile. She shook it, unsure. “Lent’s getting the towels laid out in our bathroom. We figured you’d appreciate a hot shower before changing into something else.” Derrek turned his gaze onto Alix. “You were checking to see what you had?”

“Yeah. It’s downstairs, though, so I’ll be right back.” Alix paused at her side, meeting her eyes with a serious expression. “Are you comfortable with that? I can have one of the boys go check, or even Derrek if you’d feel more comfortable with me here. Not that either Derrek or Lent will do anything.”

“I-I-”

“Bathroom’s set up,” Lent announced, stepping out of the bedroom. He met her gaze with that kind, careful look again. “ And we’ll just negate that situation. Derrek and I will start prepping the shop for open while Lacy takes care of you. Bathroom door does have a lock on it, as does the bedroom door if you need to barricade yourself in.”

She found herself nodding, watching the tension leave the two men. “Take as much time as you need,” Derrek encouraged. “And if you need anything, just let Alix know. They know where everything is at.”

“Thank you,” she offered quickly as the two men started for the door.

Alix shifted their weight, gaining her attention again. “Checking to see what I have will only take a few minutes but I can stay outside the apartment for fifteen or thirty minutes, if you want to be alone.”

“Why are you all doing this for me? Letting some stranger into your home like this.”

Alix smiled gently. “Lent told me he found you crying on the doorstep looking like a drowned rat.” Her cheeks colored in indignation and Alix laughed, hands gesturing in a placating manner. “It was said as an expression rather than a description. He was very concerned about you. Derrek had to actually talk him down from the panic that started to set in.”

“Panic?”

Alix’s expression softened. “He may look gruff but Lent’s a mess like the lot of us. He over thinks everything and, while he’s getting better, he still frets over every little action. It’s why we’re all a little more blunt that what people expect around here, why there is so much communication. It helps everyone not worry about misstepping or poor impressions.”

She gave a breathy chuckle at that. “That doesn’t seem real.”

Alix grinned. “Oh, trust me. It was extremely difficult adapting to it. But, it’s been worth it. I love working here because of them.” They shrugged. “Clientele helps a bit with that too.”

She glanced at the front door. It was still open and the sounds of happy, very enthusiastic chatter was echoing up the stairs. Her grip on her bag tightened.

“Hey.” She looked back at Alix. “If you’d rather, I can just call you a lift and send you out the back door without anyone being the wiser. You don’t have to take their offered hospitality if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

She looked towards the stairs again as a roar of several different laughs came from the stairwell. “You’ll stay out for the time I ask for?”

Alix nodded. “I’ll either put the clothes or a note saying to raid the closet outside the bedroom door. Won’t even get close to the bathroom.”

Some of the tension left her shoulders and she smiled. “Thank you.”

Alix grinned. “Of course. How much time do you want? 15 minutes? 30?”

“Fifteen’s just fine.”

“I’ll be back at half past, then.” Alix paused in the process of closing the front door. For a moment she watched as their expression turned thoughtful before they looked back at her. “Hopefully the next time you find yourself soaked like this, it’ll be from dancing in the rain rather than whatever it was you went through; that it was by choice, rather than bad timing.”

She chuckled softly at that. “I don’t really dance.”

“What if I was dancing with you?” Surprise filled her. She wondered if Alix noticed as they added, “Could make it a bonding moment with new friends.”

“Friends?”

Alix grinned again and despite all the stress and apprehension, she found herself mimicking it. “I will bet you that if either Derrek or Lent let you out of here without gaining your name, number, and a few tidbits about you at minimum, I will call you a limo to take you home. The fanciest limo I can find on such short notice.”

She laughed at that. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely.”

“What an absurd thing to bet,” she commented around giggles. “And what if you are right?”

“I teach you to dance.” She blinked, taken aback by that. Alix’s smile was soft, endearing. “That way you have no excuse to keep you from dancing in the rain.”

With a waterlogged phone in her bag in some stranger’s home over a shop she’d never dreamed of visiting conversing with the strangest of people, she found herself relaxing in this stranger’s presence and taking the bet. “Only if you agree to dance with me.”

Alix beamed at her. “Always.”

[ArtisticVicu]

Sunrise
All she had to do was get away. If she got away for long enough, he'd come to her rescue. She knew he would. She just needed to give him time.

She had no proof he would come for her, no guarantee that his words had been anything more than lies, but still she ran with the belief he would come to her rescue. The density of the trees started to give way to fields. The scattering of trees that remained were her only protection from the things they were firing at her.

The thunderous sound of hooves was growing louder. It was only a matter of time before they overtook her.

She didn’t recognize it at first, mistaking it for the forest or something on her person. But when there was a familiar snort from somewhere behind her right shoulder, she realized what she was hearing was wings. There was the sound of snapping wood and leather, and a horrendous sound she didn’t look back to investigate. Instead, she reached for the pegasus that started running with her and grabbed at its harness.

It was awkward and painful as she tried to run and pull herself up at the same time. Her entire side flared in pain when it connected with the pegasus’s side harshly. The pegasus kept running, wings ready to carry its weight back to the clouds, but she didn’t dare ask it to stop. Not when she didn’t know how close the danger was.

She got an arm over the creature’s back just before the wings out of sheer luck but she couldn’t get her legs up. What strength she did have wasn’t enough to pull herself up.

Her hand was slipping.

She tried regaining purchase on the far side of the harness. The pegasus jerked under her as her grip slackened and for one, fear filled second, she was falling away from the creature’s back.

A hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto the pegasus’s back. She barely had a chance to register what happened before the chest beneath her rumbled with a shout. “Eun!”

It felt like the pegasus bucked and she grabbed at the material covering the chest, clinging even as a solid arm pinned her in place. The switch from ground to air was uncomfortable on the back of the pegasus but the scent from the material and chest and arm erased her discomfort. “Trax.”

“You’re safe now,” he soothed, voice a low rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you.”

She went lax in his hold even as her hands tightened around the fistfuls of fabric. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

Silence settled over them, or maybe she had simply passed out. When she opened her eyes again, the sky seemed to be missing a number of stars.

“Elizabeth?”

He always spoke her name with such care, like it would break if he said it too harshly. And maybe at one point it would have but now it seemed more precious than fragile.

“I’m ok,” she offered in lieu of the non-question. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Only for a few minutes,” he assured her. “The sun should be rising here shortly.”

She tensed in his arm, fear filling her chest as she grabbed at the layers of fabric against his chest. “Trax,” she started, her voice wavering, but his hand buried itself in her hair, rubbing at her skull in a gesture she recognized.

“It’ll be alright,” he assured her softly. “The sun can’t harm me now.”

The soothing gesture did nothing for the confusion and panic that surged forward. “What? How? What do you mean?”

His soft expression gained an edge of pain. “It is nothing-”

“Vertraxus, don’t you dare say it’s nothing I need to be concerned about!” He blinked at her, as was his normal reaction when she used his full name. “The sun is poison to you! If it’s not going to affect you, then that means-” a sob choked her- “that means-”

She pressed her face into his chest, crying as she felt his arm press against her back, his hand still in her hair. If the sun wasn’t going to kill him, that meant he would die before the sun could do it. He curled around her but he didn’t say anything. Not till the sobs had petered out.

“Eli,” he coaxed, drawing her exhausted attention away from whatever in between she had been staring at. “Look.”

She looked first up at his face before looking out to the horizon where his gaze rested. There was a strip of bright sky against the dark land below as the sky above shifted in colors from the darkest blue above their heads to a brilliant bright color she had no name for. On the back of the soaring pegasus, she watched as the sun broke the horizon.

“I had always wanted to show you the sunrise from above the clouds,” he offered, voice soft and barely a rumble in his chest. She felt oddly heavy, cold, like the night had taken the heat from her body and the sun wasn’t giving her the warmth she needed to feel. “But I never could.” His arm tightened around her as she sagged a bit more into his chest. “‘Then be the day you show your heart the breaking sun be the day your heart knows no more.’” She knew those words, somehow. She couldn’t remember why, though. “I had always believed it was to me and only me.” There was a pause, one that held the promise of more words, and she waited. “But then I met you.”

Oh. That’s right. She had read it once. He hadn’t liked it when she had but at the time she had taken pleasure in harassing him. But no matter how much she annoyed him, he had always been so kind.

“Eli.” She frowned as she opened her eyes. Strange. She couldn’t remember closing them. “You know I love you, right?” She nodded. Or, more accurately, she tried to. Her head was heavy but her tongue seemed heavier. “With all my heart,” he muttered into her ear, the words weighed down with emotion.

It took far too long for her to realize those words had been filled with tears. She wanted to reach up, to touch his face and reassure him she wasn’t going anywhere, that she was just tired and needed to sleep, but he held her so carefully despite how tightly he was gripping at the fabric of her shirt.

The blink felt like it took an hour. When she could see again, she didn’t understand the blotch of color on her dress. It stretched from her lower ribs all the way down to the middle of her thigh. She let her eyes close, wondering if the blotch of color was why he was crying.

[ArtisticVicu]

Howling at the Moon
She knew things. She knew things that no human should ever know, yet she did. And now, because of these things that she knew, she was being dragged across the universe to another planet simply because what she knew was of value to him. Not that she was complaining. He had saved her life - countless times now - so it only seemed fair that she told him what he wanted to know. If he was against them, she was all for telling him everything she knew and fully committing to helping him when she was done.

She landed hard on the other side of the portal, his arms still securely around her. He cussed in that guttural language of his as she sucked in a breath and choked on it.

“Damnit,” he snarled near her ear as noise filled wherever they were at. Choking on the air she was breathing, she shoved at him, at the hands on her, desperate for space to breathe but he wasn’t unmoving. Voices filled the noise and she finally registered that others had arrived. “I can but I need a synthesizer.” His voice sounded strange. It rumbled more than it was supposed to. It wasn’t till he shifted under her that she realized he had her against his chest awkwardly upright. “Here,” he urged, his voice loud despite the volume not changing as he shoved something against her face. “Try this till we get a synth on you.”

The mask smelled awful but the first pull of breath cleared the choking immediately. She inhaled greedily for the few seconds it took to calm her system back down. He moved around her, a rumbled, “Thanks,” accompanying his movement. “Let’s get this situated on you.”

She supported herself as he handled what looked to be a bulky collar. It took a second before she realized what it reminded her of. She pressed her left hand against the piece on his chest that was part of the accessory he wore that wasn’t quite a necklace but shaped as one. She felt his chuckle through her hand. “Exactly,” he confirmed, getting the older model to cooperate. “Unfortunately, all we have are old ones but it should work just the same. Here.”

The piece was heavy but nothing she couldn’t deal with. She hoped. Oddly enough, it was heaviest on her chest rather than her shoulders like she expected, but it wasn’t heavy towards the ground. It was like gravity had rotated for the part on her chest so that it was drawn to some point in her chest or beyond it, making it feel like someone was pressing their hand into her chest. He worked the mechanism closed behind her neck without having her move meaning at least one arm was in her face. She couldn’t smell him through the mask. “Don’t remove that mask until I say. I have to get it set to the right atmosphere.”

Her gaze wandered over what he wasn’t physically obscuring. Wherever they had been dumped, they were surrounded by people. There was a large number that looked like him, that seemed to share his species. The rest were a wide variety looking like things she never thought actually existed.

She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not finding she was the only human.

“Alright,” he offered, his voice cautious. He pulled back enough to look at her. “Try that.”

She pulled the mask from her face and took a breath. The smells hit her first but she didn’t immediately start coughing. She breathed normally, waiting.

Nothing happened.

She looked up at him, nodding. “We’re good, as far as I can tell. May take a while before any negative impacts show.”

He nodded, getting her to her feet. “By then we’ll have gotten you a proper one and checked over.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, keeping her close to his front. “Skra.”

One of the stranger looking people stepped forward. “Yeah, Boss.”

“Go let Surge know I need a new model prepped for a being from AE206.” The person nodded - or bowed? She couldn’t tell - and hurried off as his attention moved others. “B’trel, Kors. Let Lady Vetalia know I’ve returned with company. She’ll want to know who it is but tell her she has to come to me to find out. I’m trusting you to stand strong against her.”

“Understood.” “Right, Boss.” A duo hurried off, one looking like his species. The other was...strange.

They were all strange, honestly, but she supposed that was a lack of exposure than actual fact.

“Tellran, get Sri. Tell them I want to see them at medical in ten minutes. Hyrn, get there before us. Ask for an isolated room. Tell them nothing more than I’ve requested it for private use.”

“On it,” was offered by one as two others dashed off. The crowd had thinned significantly.

“Neris, stay. The rest of you back to duties. If I hear word’s gotten out, I know who I’m skinning.”

There was a chorus of affirmations and assurances as all but one body left. The last being’s tail swayed back and forth calmly, yellow eyes on the both of them. “Do you have anything she can wear that’ll hide her for the time being.”

The tail gave a sharp flick as the being blinked. “Probably, but I doubt it will be enough to disguise her for long.”

“I’m not worried about that. As long as it’ll last through medical, that’s all I care about.”

Another sharp flick but the being had tipped their head in thought. “I need two minutes.”

“You have three.”

The figure dashed off. He sighed, his touch slackening on her shoulders. She looked up at him finally. “You could always save yourself the headache and send me back.”

He laughed at that before giving her a toothy grin. “After I went through all the trouble to drag you here? I don’t think so.”

He put pressure at the center of her back, directing her through the hallway. The entire place seemed to be made of metal, like it was some sort of underground world. She kept her eyes on the structure of the world around her as she pointed out, “Can they all really be trusted?”

His hand moved to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I trust them with my life.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “I highly doubt my life has any equivalence.”

He gave her a toothy grin. “Oh, it doesn’t. You are far more valuable than I am.” She smacked his side at that, gaining a bout of laughter from him. Silence settled between them for a short moment after before he spoke again. “They will be discrete and follow orders. They have no reason to question any of it and no one here would know your significance. Not yet, at least.”

“Thus the need for discretion.”

An affirming hum escaped his chest. “I wouldn’t put it past them to have word out for you here in an hour, if not sooner.”

“Is that possible?”

He shrugged. “Whether it is or isn’t doesn’t matter. We have to act as if it is. Will make it easier in the long run.”

The hallway ended but the walkway didn’t. He kept walking and she followed out onto a suspended walkway. The majority of the view was taken up by massive buildings but what she could see had her coming to a stop.

“Do you….” she started, unsure how to ask it. “Is it a sort of cloud cover or is your sun and sky always like that?”

Beyond the right hand railing the horizon was visible, as was a good chunk of sky and a hardy amount of the city they were apparently in. The way the sun was faint in the sky reminded her of the sun from her planet being obscured by clouds enough to cut the brilliance of the sun without completely negating the light. But this was different. Instead of the clouds she was used to, the entire sky was a dusty tan color and the sun was still a pinprick of concentrate light, though diluted by whatever was in the atmosphere.

“There’s a layer of cloud in our atmosphere that is unchanging. Weather clouds occur under it but it never changes density.”

It reminded her of a ceiling and she wondered if the faint pinprick of a sun shining through would be enough to keep her sane while she was there. “Strange.”

“It’s what is.” His hand went to her back again and he urged her on. “You’ll get used to it.”

As they crossed the last of the walkway, she tried seeing if she could feel this sun’s light on her skin. It wasn’t till they crossed the threshold into the new hallway that she could tell. It was faint but it was there. It would be enough if she needed it.

“Boss.” They stopped, turning to look back at the person that had come up behind them. She racked her brain for a name.

“Neris,” he spoke, sounding pleased. That was it.

The person offered the neatly folded bundle. “This should be sufficient enough to get them through medical.”

“Excellent. Go help B’trel and Kors with Lady Vetalia. She should be needing a lead by this point.” The person nodded before taking off back the way they had come. She watched them leave as he shook out the bundle. “Good. This’ll do perfectly. Here. Put this on.”

It looked to be similar to a ruana with an additional hood piece. The ruana piece was massive and counted more for a blanket on her than a garment of clothing but his hands were sure as he draped it over her shoulders lopsided so that he could pull the longer side over the other shoulder. She wasn’t sure it would stay like that but he pulled the hood piece over her head. The hood itself wasn’t overly large. It kept close to her head but extended enough in front and over her face that her features would be partially obscured. The rest of the fabric of the hood piece covered her shoulders and the top of her torso. If the weight was anything to go by, the back was longer than the front and stopped somewhere mid back.

“Excessive,” she muttered.

“Effective,” he corrected. “It’s going to get cold the deeper we go for you.”

She frowned at him. “Won’t it for you too?” She distinctly remembered him shivering right along with her when they had to wait in the cold building.

That toothy grin was back. “Oh most definitely but there’ll be things for me to wear. This way we don’t have to get you something on top of hiding just what you are.”

He took the lead. The ruana was heavy around her but the while the stretch of fabric came to her ankles all the way around, it didn’t impede her movement. It also didn’t get hot. It got warm, but not hot.

That could be from the air of the space itself, though. She could feel it nipping at her face like a winter breeze and watched as he gave a full body shudder. “Seems like they’re keeping the whole place an icebox now,” he growled out, not sounding pleased.

For a stretch they walked in silence, just the two of them. But then the hallway opened into what was clearly a very popular thoroughfare and the lack of talking came from the ears that could overhear. He cut a path through the crowd with ease and it wasn’t long before people were stepping out of his way long before he reached them. She kept step behind him, staying close and keeping her gaze on his back. She can ogle at the world later.

The density of the crowd fluctuated but there was always another body on the route they walked. She wondered if there had been a path they could have taken to avoid all the people.

The hallways they walked through gradually got narrower. The final hallway they ended up in was barely wide enough to walk abreast with someone. Most coming towards them stopped and put their backs to the wall. He was bulkier than most and barely left any room for those walking the hallway to pass. Still, he would turn his torso as he passed them, giving some acknowledgement as he gave them what space he could offer as he passed.

The entrance for medical was in this narrow, seemingly endless hallway, and when he turned and stepped through the doorway, it startled her. She followed suit regardless and found it to be a hive of activity. There were good spirits but some of those there looked to be in pretty bad state, be it from injury or illness.hyrn tellran sri

“Boss.” Three bodies cut through the crowd towards him. The forward most was the one he had sent ahead to medical. Something about asking for an isolated room. “This way.”

The one in the back was the one he had sent after somebody, leaving the middle person to be that somebody.

That somebody did not look pleased. “Why did you have Tellran wake me?” the person asked, the words biting without actually snapping at him. “Vex is capable of handling anything you need assistance with.”

He reached out, placing a hand on the person’s shoulder. “Trust me, Sri. If I could have avoided getting you involved, I would have.” He focused on the one that had spoken, still following their lead through the maze of hallways. “How far, Hyrn?”

“Just a few more doors.”

“Do you still need me, Boss?” the one that had fallen into step beside her inquired.

They gained his gaze. “For now.” That gaze flickered to her. “Keep an eye on her for me for the time being.”

Had the situation not been so serious, she probably would have been annoyed but after seeing so many people and knowing just what he was protecting her from, she happily accepted whatever aid he gave her, even if she didn’t know or fully trust the person herself.

“Here, Boss,” the person leading spoke, stopping at a door.

He reached back and made sure she entered after the Sri person. The one keeping an eye on her kept pace . He entered after all of them, barring the one at the door who stayed outside and closed the door behind him.

“Take the pieces off. Let Sri check you over,” he directed at her. “I want to make sure that you’re not injured.”

She pulled the hood piece off first. There was a sharp intake of breath from the one he had told to keep an eye on her. His eyes narrowed at the person, for Sri had only narrowed their eyes. “There a problem, Tellran?”

“No, Boss,” Tellran offered, voice sure, unwavering. “Just surprised.”

She frowned at that as she pulled the ruana off, rolling it before passing it and the hood piece to him. “I take it that’s more of things I don’t really know.”

He nodded, turning his attention to Sri. “You are able to check her over, correct?”

Those narrowed eyes turned to glare at him. “Of course, but I do not like the implication of one of them here.”

She frowned at that as he shrugged. “Regardless, she’s here and needs to be checked over. She’s an asset I want to stay living if at all possible.”

Sri waved him off and approached her. Their expression softened, though it still looked severe. “Do you have a name, child?”

She glanced at him. He simply arched an eyebrow at her. “Illa,” she gave, the nickname enough for now.

“Alright, Illa. Let’s get you checked over.”

The process was rather quiet for the first of it. Sri had her strip down further to make sure the clothes weren’t hiding any injuries. Beyond a number of scraps and bruises, she was fine. Sri poked at a few bruises and put some ointment on the scraps that needed them, coaxing the details to their origin during the menial task.

She hadn’t thought much of the answers till she caught sight of him watching her as she dressed. There was a look in those eyes that, though she knew he was no danger to her, made her uneasy. She had no qualms with him knowing but to see the righteous fury on her behave was off putting. Thankfully Sri took his attention by speaking. “Outside of the expected scraps and bruises from what she’s been through, she’s got a clean bill of health.” Sri finished scribbling something down before glaring at him. “Now, why exactly is she here. You know the risk of her presence here, not to mention what else could come after her.”

He seemed to brush Sri’s concern off leaning back in his chair. “I am aware of the risks. They’re nothing compared to what we gain from her.”

Sri’s expression flattened. “You speak as if she is nothing more than an object to be used.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t care if that were the case,” she spoke to Sri. He shifted oddly in her peripheral but when she glanced at him, he had simply sat forward. “This is better than the alternative, at least.”

“Mmmm, you are not wrong,” Sri ceded before returning their gaze to him. “Is there any reason for me to remain now?”

There was a knock on the door before he could respond. Instead, he called to the door. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal a new stranger with the one of the originals she had seen. He stood, stepping towards the door. “Surge. Did you bring it?” The new stranger grinned, holding up a slimmer version of the synthesizer she already wore. His back was to her but she could hear the grin. “Excellent. Thank you, Skra.” The one from before nodded - or bowed; she still couldn’t tell - and left, dismissed. The door closed behind the new stranger. “Fit it to her.”

The stranger approached her. Despite the instinct to move away, she stood rigid still for the new stranger. She hated how they stepped so close to her front that her nose almost brushed against their chest. The second set of hands stroked at her neck unnecessarily but before she could get a word out - before she could even react - both sets of hands were gone. The stranger was thrown across the room into the wall. It said something about his behavior that the door handle remained untouched.

He stood between her and the stranger and the violated feeling ebbed some. “Only the collar or you will regret ever answering my summons.”

The stranger was quaking, hands close to their chest, as they gave very quick, almost aggressive nods that they understood. She wondered if the stranger was mute or simply not speaking.

This time the stranger walked around her. She didn’t even feel them and while that was off putting in and of itself, he was standing before her eyes on the stranger. If the stranger did anything, he would follow through with his threat. She knew enough to know it had not been an idle threat. The old synthesizer slipped from her neck and for a moment, she panicked. But when her hand pressed into her chest where it had rested, she pressed the new one into her chest. She stared down at it, surprised.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Like it’s not even there.” She looked up at him, confused. “Does yours feel weightless?”

He nodded before turning a glare on the stranger. “As much as I want to kick you out, I have need for your knowledge. Go sit near Tellran.” The stranger scurried off. She didn’t miss Tellran moving away from the stranger when the stranger settled. “Illa.” She looked to him. “I need you to tell me what you know of the Dyurn.”

There was a noise from the stranger - something like a squeaky squawk - but it was forgotten as Sri stepped forward, glaring at him. “You cannot be seriously asking her about that. She wouldn’t even know what that is!”

“They have a mark on their body generally left visible that looks like a cat howling at the moon?” she clarified. He started laughing, the sound more of a bark than a genuine laugh. She grinned even as she defended herself. “What? You’re going to tell me I’m wrong?”

“Not necessarily,” Sri spoke up as he apparently lost it, sitting back down. “Though I think they prefer something more striking than a cat.”

She shrugged. “But that is the Dyurn, correct? Those marked with the howling moon.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” he assured her, coming down from his giggle fit. The grin he sent her was vicious. “Tell me everything you know about them.”

[ArtisticVicu]

Altruistic Endeavors | Inktober 2020
A new way of doing Inktober


He hadn't thought much of it. The trip, specifically. They had been planning it for a few months and he had been looking forward to the break - everyone probably was. He took advantage of the trip's timing to play his own prank after the one he had suffered through a year back. Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about hiking the distance to the lake to be there as the sun rose instead of driving it but it seemed like a fitting payback. Only when the day trip to the lake starts being weird does he start doubting his initial thought.

Maybe they should have stayed closer to home.



Prompts are bold in each entry.

Day 1: Fish
Day 2: Wisp
Day 3: Bulky
Day 4: Radio
Day 5: Blade
Day 6: Rodent
Day 7: Fancy
Day 8: Teeth
Day 9: Throw
Day 10: Hope
Day 11: Disgusting
Day 12: Slippery
Day 13: Dune
Day 14: Armor
Day 15: Outpost
Day 16: Rocket
Day 17: Storm
Day 18: Trap
Day 19: Dizzy
Day 20: Coral
Day 21: Sleep
Day 22: Chef
Day 23: Rip
Day 24: Dig
Day 25: Buddy
Day 26: Hide
Day 27: Music
Day 28: Float
Day 29: Shoes
Day 30: Ominous
Day 31: Crawl

The morning mist hung thick in the air as the gravel shifted under each step. The sun had yet to peak out from behind the horizon but the early morning was full of enough pre-dawn light to see the trail. He shifted the heavy tackle box strap higher on his shoulder as a voice came up from behind him.

“How much farther, Tye? I wanna go back to sleep.”

He chuckled, glancing back at his companions. Four other bodies trailed behind him but it had been the closest one that had complained. “Not much farther,” he assured them, smiling. “Just over this hill and we’ll be able to see the lake.”

“Man, why you have to pick something we couldn’t just drive to?” another spoke up.

“Oh, we could have driven to it,” he commented, nonchalant. He giggled at the uproar that came from behind him and he grinned at them. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

“Payback for what?!” the second speaker squawked, echoed by the first.

“Last year. To the date.”

Silence fell briefly before three of the four started muttering amongst themselves trying to figure out what he was talking about. He reached the top of the slope and looked back. The fourth companion had fallen back again but he wasn’t concerned. They were keeping a steady pace and their footfall was sure, if not a bit slow. The still conversing trio came to a stop without realizing it and their stopping drew the fourth’s gaze up. They smiled at him, repeating, “I’m fine. Just slow.”

“I know,” he assured them. “We’re almost there.”

They nodded, gaze flickering over the trio. He watched as they shifted their weight before inputting, “He’s talking about the prank you guys pulled last year. The one where you made him believe there was a killer in the woods and had practically turned the camping trip into a horror movie.”

He turned away as the realization finally dawned on the others.

“Oh, shit! That was a year ago?” the last one to speak exclaimed.

“Aw, come on, Tye. That was last year! We had said we were sorry.”

“Yeah, man. It was just a joke. Can’t hold it over our head forever.”

His eyebrows rose at that last comment but he didn’t look back. “I’m not holding it over your heads. We’re even now.”

He didn’t care to listen to the rest of their words. The fact that he was leading was annoying but he was the only one to know where they were going. Lora and Cole - the only others that knew the area - would be joining closer to nightfall with the vehicles and the rest of the camping gear leaving him to dish out his revenge.

He shifted the strap of the tackle box up on his shoulder again. Though why he had to choose something that tortured himself in the process on some level was beyond him.

Thankfully they were on the downhill stretch of the trail. Easy going compared to the uphill climb.

He looked back twice, both times searching out the fourth companion behind him. It was hard to match their pace when he wasn’t beside them and it was frustrating.

The trio rushed past once the trail opened up onto the beach. He slowed to a stop, listening as the fourth companion’s footfall came to a stop at his side. Over to the right the sun had managed to free itself from the horizon, coloring the morning in brilliant colors and quickly burning off the morning mist.

“Beautiful view,” the fourth companion commented as there was the sound of a zipper opening. A brief clatter of something and the rustle of another, silence fell between them enough for him to hear the faint clicking of the camera’s shutter going off.

“Worth the early morning hike?” he inquired, doing his best to keep his tone curious and light and not filled with the worry in his chest.

They looked up at him as the camera lowered, drawing his gaze enough for him to take in the brilliant grin on their face. “Always.”

It pulled a grin on to his own face as there was a shout from the water’s edge.

“Oi! We gonna fish or not?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah,” he called back, waving the third companion off. He liked him but he wasn’t done with the fourth quite yet. Gesture made, he placed his hand on his companion’s head, offering, “You’re always welcomed to come try your hand at fishing.”

They nodded with his hand on their head. “I want to see what pictures I can get but I’m still down to trying. You said we’d go down the river to try our luck?”

“Yeah, sometime after lunch.”

They nodded again. “I’ll try at the river if I don’t get bored beforehand.”

“K.” He moved his hand to the tackle box strap and shifted it higher on his shoulder again. “Don’t wander too far.”

He started for the trio as the camera shutter sound drifted to his ears. “I won’t,” they promised.

The first two of the trio were entertaining themselves with something. He didn’t care what as he looked to the third companion. He gained a cheeky little grin. “Asked them out yet?”

His face was on fire immediately at the comment and he swatted at the other. “Shut up,” he ground out, desperately trying not to glance back to see if they had heard.

The other gave a low chuckle. “They didn’t hear me,” the other assured him, easily reading him. “But you ought to.”

“Ought to or not, I haven’t,” he snapped, shoving the tackle box into the third companion’s hands. “So drop it.”

“Only for as long as it takes for you to act smitten around them again.”

“Orlean!”

The third companion - Orlean - laughed, ducking his attempt at smacking him again. He glared at the other and Orlean just grinned at him wandering over to the other two. “Sam, Dean, we can finally start fishing.”

“Oh sweet!” the second companion - Dean - cheered, running out from the shallows by lifting his feet ridiculously high out of the water. Sam - the first companion - shoved at him when he got close enough and Dean toppled right over. She started laughing as he went under for a brief second. “Hey!” Despite the annoyance in his voice, there was laughter in Dean’s expression.

“Dean’s all the bate we need, Orlean,” Sam chimed between fits of laughter. “Thanks, though.”

He couldn’t see Orlean’s face but the eyeroll was very obvious. “Leave Dean alone, Sam. Just because he turned you down doesn’t mean you get to bully him.”

Dean, not helping his case, brought a fist to his hand and let out a long, “Oooh!”

Sam kicked at him for the commentary, though it was more a spray of water than any actual attempt to kick him. “Shut it, you. Or I’ll really try to drown you.”

Sam stormed out of the shallows and went back towards the trail. He watched her go as Orlean helped Dean out of the water.

“Did you really have to say that? She was just playing,” Dean asked, settling on his own two feet.

“I’m not wrong.”

“I know, but it’s still a sore topic.” A breath filled with the sounds of the forest and the lake lapping at the shore. “Please go apologize to her?”

Orlean let out a long sigh. “Fine, but you both have to rein in your stupidity. I want to actually enjoy our time out here.”

He finally looked over at them, catching Dean’s cheeky grin. “I make no promises.”

Orlean let out another long sigh but turned away from Dean and trekked after Sam who had in turn settled on something just inside the treeline. He watched Orlean walk away, listening to Dean finish splashing his ways out of the shallows and approach him. “Hey, Tye.” He looked over and realized Orlean had handed Dean the tackle box. “Mind showing me how while we wait?”

Orlean and Sam wandered back over as he was walking Dean through how to securely attach a lure to the line. Sam took a few things and gave Orlean a refresher. By the time the last of the morning mist had burned off, four lines were bobbing in the water. He had settled near the lines content to babysit the lines while enjoying the scenery. Orlean was beside him with a book open. Looked to be homework unless the art history textbook counted as light reading. Dean was back in the shallows now stripped down to his shorts and binder. Sam had found a rock near Dean and was currently engaging him in some sort of chat. They were too far off for him to hear anything other than the melody of their voices.

“Where’s Beckett?”

He glanced over to Orlean at the question but the other hadn’t removed his nose from his book despite asking. He turned his gaze towards the left. The river itself was farther down the lakeshore but the shoreline quickly got rockier and less beach-like in that direction. Beckett - the fourth companion - was currently squatting in the rocky edge of the lake, camera pointed at the water and bag abandoned further back. “Taking pictures to our left.” He looked back at Orlean. “Why?”

“I can watch the lines. You put bells on them, after all.”

He frowned at the other but he neither gained more nor the other’s gaze. It left him guessing - and probably very accurately - what Orlean was implying. With a huff, he got to his feet. “Holler if you need anything.”

He got waved off without a glance in his direction.

The pebble beach made a soothing sort of noise as he walked along it. It shifted and changed as the rocks changed shapes and sizes till he was hopping from large rock to large rock avoiding the muddy bank below. The outcropping Beckett had moved to was a ways off from the group but they had stayed within sight and beamed at him when he managed to join them on a large rock at the water’s edge. “What’re you taking pictures of?” he asked, gaze where the camera was pointed.

“Fish.”

He could see a school of tiny fish darting among the rocks and barely a hand’s distance into the lake itself. “Getting some cool shots?”

“Yeah.”

The camera shutter went off a few times. He liked Beckett - a lot - but there were times like these that left him floundering for something to say. But as Beckett shifted, took another few pictures, and then moseyed along the rocks towards the river, he settled into the silence, hoping he was the only one feeling awkward about it.

Beckett stopped, looking back at him as he started after them. “You ok, Artemis?”

He met their gaze. “Yeah,” he offered honestly, “just trying to think of something to talk about.”

“Did you want to talk? I could start us off with small talk if that would help.”

He chuckled at that, coming to a stop just outside of their reach. “Not unless you want to talk to. I don’t mind not talking if you don’t want to talk.”

Beckett blinked, expression neutral. After a moment, they turned and started across the rocks not in the direction they had been going in. It took a second before he realized they were heading to their backpack. He followed after and caught up easily. Just as with the hiking, Beckett was slower across the rocks but he knew their footfall was far surer than his. As if to prove the thought right, his shoe lost traction and slid down the edge of the rock he was stepping onto. There was another rock underneath so his foot didn’t go very far but he did pinwheel and pitch forward dangerously. Beckett started, turning to him.

“You ok?”

He gave them a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Just lost my footing.”

Beckett nodded before continuing on. He watched his footing more closely and knew Beckett was keeping a closer eye on him now too.
Beckett tucked the camera into their lap as they sank into a squat next to the bag. The main pocket was opened and they riffled through the items within as he settled near them. He looked towards the others as he waited. Sam was now in the water with Dean but it was hard to tell if they were just playing or if Sam was indeed trying to drown Dean again. Dean was still reading as he caught shrills of Dean’s laughter on the breeze that brushed against his face; he was going with the former.

Gravel grinding against itself brought his attention back to Beckett as they stood. Their camera was tucked protectively against their stomach in the motion but their other hand reached out to him holding a familiar object. “Here,” they offered, gesturing with the old digital camera. “The battery won’t last long but it’ll give you something to do if you want. That way you don’t have to fill the silence if you don’t want to.”

A smile pulled at his face as he took it. “Thanks, Beckett.”

The other gave a nod before starting back towards the rocks he had joined them at.

He took his time getting the thing to turn on and took a few random test shots to get used to the old camera. The display screen was hard to see in the bright light even when he blocked the sun with his body. It made it difficult to tell if his shots were straight or not but he found he didn’t care. Shifting his stance, he brought the camera up and pointed it at Beckett.

They had settled on the rock again close to the water, camera inches from the water’s surface. Without really thinking about it, he took a few shots from a distance before getting closer. He wondered if Beckett noticed what he was doing. If they were, they didn’t say anything while moving farther down the lake edge, stopping here and there to take a picture of whatever caught their eye. He found himself enjoying taking pictures of Beckett before a thought came to mind. “Hey, I’m going to go take pictures of the others. I’ll be right back.”

“K,” drifted back to him but it sounded distracted. A glance at Beckett confirmed they were more focused on whatever was in the tree above them that what he had said.

He trekked back to the others, the walk seeming oddly long despite the short amount of distance Beckett had moved. Orlean was asleep under the tree book open in his lap. He smiled and took a few pictures that he thought would be artsy. He took a few of Dean and Sam from the top of the outcrop before moving closer.

Dean had settled for sitting in the shallows as Sam drifted on her back nearby. It wasn’t till he was almost upon them that he picked out their voices on the breeze. He was happy they hadn’t stopped talking. He took a few quick photos before Dean realized he was there. “Hey, Tye! What you got there?”

Sam sat up in the water, looking over as she found the bottom of the lake easily. He took another picture answering, “Beckett’s old digital. Figured we could use some pictures while we were here.”

Sam gave him a look. “Come on, Tye. That’s what cell phones are for.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking another shot of her though this time trying to have only her in the frame. He wasn’t sure if he had managed it without cropping out her foot. “But this way I don’t have to worry about my phone dying. Just the camera.”

“Can I try?”

He focused on Dean, lowering the camera. Unease settled in his stomach but it was mild. He offered it to the other. “Only if you’re careful. It’s Beckett’s. Not mine.”

Dean got up out of the water. The unease ebbed when he noted Dean took the camera with his dry hand. And just like that, the camera was in his face giving a faint click. Dean smiled at him over the small device. “There. Now we have pictures of you, too.”

He snorted. “Are they all consecutive photos of my dumb expression?”

Dean beamed at him. “Not anymore they ain’t.”

He laughed at that.

Midday seemed to arrive sooner than any of them had expected. Dean and Sam had hijacked Beckett’s old digital camera taking pictures of everyone and everything. Orlean had gotten awoken by their escapades and had refused to be in any pictures. That had left Dean and Sam the task of getting shots of Orlean without the other knowing and it had entertained them up until the battery died as Artemis drew in the lines.

“Bout time that damn thing died,” Orlean ground out, tromping up to his side as he picked up the second fishing pole. “We moving on, then?”

“Yeah. The fish aren’t biting here so we’ll go try the river.” He passed the now stowed second pole to Orlean as the other picked up the first. “If we don’t get at least one fish on the river, I’ll be surprised. The lake is hit or miss but I’ve yet to walk away from the river empty handed.”

“May it not disappoint.”

He and Orlean walked over to the pile of belongings Dean and Sam were going through. A blanket was stretched out on the dirt nearby and some of the food they had brought with was situated on it. He hadn’t seen Beckett return but they were sitting on part of the blanket in the shade. They had a distant look about them. With a slight frown, he tucked the poles he had carried back in the pile before pulling open the small cooling pack. A lot of the ice packs had melted but the drinks inside were still cold. He pulled out a Gatorade and Beckett’s water.

“Here,” he said gently, offering Beckett the Gatorade and water. “This should help.”

Beckett took the offered drinks with a soft thanks.

Sam wandered over and dropped something on Beckett’s shoulders. The other jumped at the sudden touch but as Sam settled beside them, they settled as well. He recognized it even as Beckett clarified, “This that cooling thing you had been talking about?”

“Yeah.” Sam stretched her legs out, leaning back on her hands. “Mom fussed at me night and day for weeks about making sure I brought it with. She can be such a drag sometimes. It’s not like I need it. I happen to thrive on the heat.”

“Cold blooded, then?”

He tensed at the quip from Beckett but Sam just grinned at them. The look was sharp but he knew it could look a hell of a lot worse if she had truly taken offense to it. “My brothers call me a viper so it’s fitting.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Besides, it’s being of use and my mom can get off my back about it.”

“It is nice and cool.”

Sam’s entire demeanor deflated, her cautious gaze flickering over Beckett’s face. “I have another one. Do you want it for your head?”

Beckett’s hands stilled on the water bottle, their gaze coming up to meet Sam’s. “Oh, no. This one is fine. I don’t-”

“Beckett.” They fell silent and Sam sent them an encouraging smile. “I’m not using it. Do you want one for your head? Yes or no.”

A breath and then a soft, “Yes, please,” escaped.

Sam nodded and got back up.

He sat down at Beckett’s feet, gaining the other’s gaze briefly. “We’ll get you cooled off before moving on, alright? I’m hungry anyways so the chance to eat will be good.”

“I’m glad it’s as cool as it is with the sun so hot. Should be good in a few.”

He grinned at them. “We’ll be here for a while yet so don’t fret about it.”

A while yet was right. By the time Beckett had perked back up, Lora and Cole came wandering over with a few things between them. Beckett and Dean scrambled to their feet, rushing to give the duo hugs. Sam was right behind them. He took his time getting up while Orlean stayed seated on the blanket; the other continued eating but his eyes were on the group.

“You know they don’t bite, right?” Artemis inquired, watching him.

Orlean shrugged. “Yeah I know. Just gonna stay back here till the chaos chills.”

He nodded, turning his attention on the chattering group. Cole had a solid arm around Beckett’s shoulders happily jabbering away with Dean. Lora and Sam seemed to be excited about something but the noise from the group was more static than it was words. After a while, Cole herded the group closer to the blanket and pile of belongings and the two new arrivals added what they had brought to the pile.

“Thought you two weren’t coming till later this evening,” he pointed out, grinning at the two of them.

“That had been the plan,” Cole assured him as Lora wrapped him in a tight hug. He squeezed back, happy to see them both even if it had only been a few hours. “But the plans we had fell through and so we’re here to join in on the fishing.”

“Oh, no. What happened?” Sam asked as Cole took a turn giving him a hug.

“We had a few appointments that got cancelled and rescheduled for an assortment of reasons,” Lora offered, her voice soft, caring, and reassuring. “Not much to it, really. Just means now we get to spend time with all of you instead.”

“Does this affect any of your timeline?” he inquired, frowning at that.

“Not enough to be worried about,” Cole supplied with a shrug. “Even if the date gets pushed back, we’re not out any money. May mean a few people won’t be able to attend but we’ll still host those that can only come out that day and entertain them like we always do.”

He gave a cheeky grin. “Well, good news is we entertain ourselves rather well so you’re welcome to join if you want.”

“Awesome, cuz I’m starving.”

The group - now two larger - settled on the not quite large enough blanket. It didn’t really matter. People sat close to each other or sat on each other’s laps. He wasn’t surprised when Cole sat on Dean’s lap, gaining an annoyed squawk out of the smaller. It got a round of laughter out of the group.

Lunch ended after a while and belongings were gathered before the group moved on towards the river.

“Did you guys find a spot in the lot across the river?” he asked as they followed the bank from the lake to the river.

“Surprisingly,” Cole said. “There were,” he looked to Lora, “what, three other campers there? Maybe four?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t much, especially for this time of year.”

“Is it normally busy this time of year?” Orlean piped in.

“Usually getting anywhere near the lake is impossible this time of year,” Cole confirmed. “The parking lot being almost empty is very strange.”

“Maybe there’s an event going on that people are at instead,” Sam offered.

Cole shrugged. “If there is, I don’t know what it is. Doesn’t matter, though. Means more fish for us.”

The fishing spot was empty when they arrived. It was nothing more than a gravel beach but it was shaded and the group spread out. The lines were cast and in what felt like an instant they were reeling fish in. It was utter chaos and enjoyment for the entire group as everyone managed to pull in something. Beckett and Sam pulled in the largest fish while Orlean somehow managed to get the most catches. They kept what they would eat and released the rest. By the time the sun was setting to the west, the smell of cooking fish had filled the area. The fire Cole and Sam had built was a testament to their combined prowess when it came to anything camping related. Well, everything except for cooking. Lora wasn’t letting either of them anywhere near the fish and the other things she had cooking over the fire. Orlean and Dean were allowed to help only because she was teaching them how she was doing everything.

He frowned, looking around. For a moment he couldn’t find Beckett in the dying light, but they moved and he found them near the river. He wandered over, curious. Beckett didn’t look at him. Their gaze was skyward, camera in hand. “What are you doing over here?” he inquired, curious.

They raised the camera. “Taking pictures of the smoke.” The shutter went off a few times before they brought the camera down, frowning at it. “Only, smoke doesn’t show very well and I’ve been playing with the settings to get it to pick up what I’m seeing.”

He reached out but kept his hand close to himself. “Can I see?”

Their eyes finally landed on him and while he had reached out, he knew they wouldn’t hand the camera over. Instead, they shifted closer, turning the camera so that he could see the display screen. He tucked his hands into his pockets and bent close. At first, he couldn’t quite tell what they were talking about, though the first few photos were amazing shots of the changing sky. But then the pictures suddenly changed and he stared in awe at the images they had captured.

The smoke caught the beams of dying sunlight among the shadows of the trees in an almost surreal way. But the focus didn’t stay on the whole of the smoke. It shifted as if following a specific wisp of smoke but he couldn’t quite make out where it was.

He looked up but just as he couldn’t make it out on the camera display, he couldn’t make it out in the sky above.
“What part are you trying to capture?”

Beckett shifted the camera in their hands to point at something just above the treetops just to the left of the faint trail of smoke. “I thought it was just a one off thing but there’s been a consistent curling of smoke right about there that’s got some interesting shapes and movement and I was trying to capture it before the light went away.”

Their hand fell in place of the camera coming back up. He waited, watching as the smoke steadily rose and dissipate above the trees. His thoughts wandered and he wondered at why there was even smoke coming from the fire to begin with. Maybe there was something burning still that was smoking.

The shutter sound from the camera made him jump and just as he brought his focus back on what he was staring at, he caught the tail end of something leaving the smoke.

A thrill of adrenaline shot down his spine as he looked to Beckett. “Did you capture it?” His voice quaked but he hoped they hadn’t noticed.

He could see them navigating to the pictures. “Hang on.”

Silence settled between them broken only by the drifting sounds of the others by the fire and the world around them. He glanced at the group but none of them seemed to have noticed anything.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Here. Look at this one.” He stepped close to Beckett to look down at the display. Whatever he had seen was absent from the picture but there was definitely an interesting curl of smoke colored brilliantly by the sunlight. He looked up at their face, finding them grinning. “It’s not exactly when I wanted it but I’m close. I’m gonna try a few more times before I lose the light.” They looked back down at the camera. “I’m going to try and increase the shutter speed. They’re moving too quickly.”

“They?”

Beckett looked up at him before looking to the sky over the river. “The swallows.” He followed their gaze. Sure enough, small birds with long forked tails were twisting and turning through the air over the river, something he hadn’t even really paid attention to that they had noticed. “A few of them keep dashing through the smoke and if I can get it while the settings are highlighting the smoke, it should be a wicked shot.”

His reaction seemed silly now as he watched one fly close by, catching the insect it had been chasing before banking back towards the river. “I hope you get it.”

Beckett didn’t respond as they brought the camera back up but a glance at them showed a smile on their face. He looked back at the smoke, frowning. A swallow flew past the column of smoke but nowhere near where he had seen whatever it was that had startled him. Maybe his mind had played a trick on him and had mistaken a swallow for…whatever it was he thought he had seen. He couldn’t even remember what it was now that the moment had long since passed.

He stayed there listening to the swallows, listening to their camera, watching the group move about the fishing spot till Cole walked up. The older man grinned at him before looking between the both of them. “Food’s ready if either of you are hungry.” Cole focused on Beckett. “Lora made potato soup, too, in case the fish isn’t to anyone’s liking.”

“The cheesy one?” Beckett asked, perking up at that.

Cole grinned. “The very one! She brought bread and butter too so there’s definitely enough things for everyone to get their fill.”

Beckett started for the fire but he stayed put. Cole had made no move to follow after either.

It wasn’t till Beckett had joined the group at the fire that Cole spoke up again. “Dean said you had noticed Kit get too hot.”

He nodded. “Hard not to when they shut down like that.”

Cole gave a hum. The sound of the swallows filled the air between them.

“You know you don’t have to watch over them like that, right?” He pulled his gaze from group, blinking at Cole. “They’re getting better at taking care of themself.”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind. It wasn’t like I did much beyond giving them something to drink. It was Sam who gave them the cooling cloth.”

“But you’re the one that drew attention to their predicament.”

Confusion pulled a frown onto his face as he looked back at Cole. “Do you not want me looking out for your younger sibling?”

To his surprise, Cole laughed. “Ah, no. I’m sorry. Is that how that’s coming across?” Cole rubbed at the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face. “I hadn’t- Lora and I just don’t want you feeling like you have to take care of Beckett, is all. Kit’s strong. They don’t need anyone to watch over them and they’ve told us so time and again.”

“But sometimes even the strong need a hand.” Cole’s hand returned to his side, the embarrassment fueled joy falling away as quickly as it had arrived. “And I really don’t mind. I don’t see it as taking care of them, anyways. I’m just helping when things get too much for them to help themself.”

That pulled a breathy chuckle from the other. “They’re lucky to have someone like you. Not many people would care enough to pay attention to those that fall quiet in the background.”

“Just as not many people wouldn’t make a big deal out of eating preferences?” It was as much as a jab at Cole as it was an honest inquiry.

Cole laughed. “If it wasn’t for Lora being the amazing chef she is, I would still be the pickier out of the two of us, and that’s saying something.” The grin was lopsided, happy. “But it helps that I understand the picky food thing. I’ve still got friends that still harass me about my current pickiness levels.” That amused expression turned thoughtful. “Do any of the others pick on Beckett for their pickiness?”

“Dean’s known them longer than I have but I don’t know where Beckett stands with Orlean and Sam. They’re more Dean’s friends than anyone else’s.”

“Kit likes Orlean from what I can tell. They don’t actively interact with him but that may be on Orlean’s withholding than Kit’s lack of trying but I agree on the bit with Sam. Even though Lora knows her and Dean knows her doesn’t mean anything. You haven’t seen anything, though?”

He shook his head. “No but this is the first time the five of us have been together like this so we’ll see.”

Cole clapped him on the shoulder. “Then lets go join the others and enjoy dinner.”

Dinner was a lively fair. Orlean relaxed into the group and participated as much as Dean did, the latter of which was a constant buzz of happy energy. The sun had long since set by the time any of them realized how late it had gotten.

“Did we want to hike back to the camper?” Cole asked, looking around at everyone there.

Artemis leaned forward. “You guys brought tents, right?”

“Two,” Cole confirmed as Lora added, “And the air mattresses.”

Orlean didn’t look up from the rope work he was doing for Beckett. “Don’t you need electricity for those?”

“Rechargeable battery powered air pumps,” Cole stated, standing. “Surprisingly robust little buggers. When we do our long trips, we usually take the airpads - lighter and don’t have the pump - but we figured since we were bringing the vehicles there wasn’t a reason not to use the air mattresses with the tents. Speaking of: who wants to help put together the tents?”

Everyone got delegated to some task under Cole’s directing. Cole took the lead on the larger of the two tents while Orlean took lean on the smaller. Artemis - for whatever reason - was put on air mattress duty, not that he understood why. The little pumps did their jobs and outside the initial watch to make sure nothing got kinked during inflation, there wasn’t anything to do except wait the short few minutes they took to inflate themselves. He repacked the pumps but before he could join in to help with the tents, Lora came to his side. “Artemis, do you mind being Dean and Orlean’s light? Cole’s tent needs another hand.”

“I could go help Cole out,” he started but Lora was already passing him the massive flashlight.

“No, it’s alright. We had this same issue last time with fewer hands. With Cole and I on it, we’ll be fine.”

She hurried off leaving him standing there feeling put out.

He took in a deep breath slowly, calming the voice in his head that was trying to get him in a bad mood. He was fine. They were fine. Someone had to be delegated to certain tasks. Just because he took it as being brushed off was his take on it and not necessarily the truth. Knowing Cole and Lora, it probably wasn’t anywhere close to the truth.

Dean gave him a smile when he approached the pair working on the smaller tent. “Sweet! Light’s here, Orlean.”

“Good. Artemis, can you shine it here for me? I need a bit more light that the firelight for this part. Dean, if you can do the other end.”

He adjusted his hold on the bulky flashlight. The thing had some weight to it and once it was on, he settled it on his shoulder to keep the angle Orlean needed.

The task was pretty mindless. Orlean didn’t talk as he worked and Dean didn’t try to fill the silence so it was easy for the other’s directions to cut through his thoughts as he let his mind wander. He found his gaze skyward on the stars overhead. The firelight ate at his ability to really see them but with no other light pollution beyond the fire and the flashlights, the clear sky was full of more stars than he was used to seeing but it didn’t hold his attention, not really.

He found his thoughts drifting back to whatever it was he had seen in the smoke. He couldn’t recall what it was he had seen outside of some dark mass darting away. It was oddly frustrating. He knew, logically, that it was probably just a bird he had misinterpreted as something else out of the corner of his eye, but the unease from it was still there; it hadn’t gone away. A yawn caught him by surprise, stretching his jaw out. Instead of unease it was probably exhaustion, he found himself reasoning. The day had started before the sun had risen and now they were all still up long after the sun had set. He wouldn’t be surprised if sleep found him the moment his head hit the mattress.

“Alright,” Cole announced, “looks like we’re all set. Unfortunately for seven of us, it’s going to be a bit tight but hopefully the larger mattress is big enough for four. I know the smaller is for three.” The man scratched at the back of his head. “Ah, any ideas on sleeping arrangements?”

“You, me, and Lora can take the smaller,” Beckett piped in. “We’ve done it before.”

Cole looked to Sam. “You good sharing a tent with three men?”

Sam snorted. “I have seven brothers. I'm sure I can handle sleeping in the same tent as these three.”

“Alright. That settles that, then. Mattresses in first and then we’ll tuck the stuff in around them.”

Cole took the lead again but it was a gentle command. Everyone knew what needed to happen and there wasn’t much need for direction once the mattresses were manhandled into place. When bags and belongings were safely stowed in the tents, Lora poked her head into the larger. “Cole wants to do smores despite the hour. Does anyone else?”

“Ooo! Absolutely!” Dean exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Sam wasn’t far behind, commenting, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a roasted marshmallow.”

Artemis followed at a more sedated pace, pausing in the entrance of the tent as Lora asked Orlean, “Did you want to at least join us?”

He looked back. Orlean was fiddling with his art history textbook. It took a moment before he looked over as he stood. “Yeah. I’ve got a few more pages to read and I don’t want to waste a battery for it.”

Artemis led the way back to the fire and settled beside Beckett. They handed him a long, thin metal rod with two prongs at the end and a marshmallow, one already shoved in their mouth. “Thanks,” slipped off his tongue easily as he skewered the marshmallow with both prongs. Orlean settled at his side as he tucked his marshmallow close to the flames.

He smiled when he caught Beckett passing Orlean a marshmallow and Orlean promptly taking a solid bite out of it.
Something woke him up. For a moment, he thought it was simply because the day had started but when he pushed himself up, night was still thick inside the tent. He rubbed at his face. Exhaustion pulled at him as annoyance curled in his chest. Whatever dream he had been in was long gone from his memory and it felt more like he hadn’t dreamt at all.

His head came up, confusion and adrenaline shooting through him as he looked towards the tent entrance. The tent wasn’t quiet. Dean was snoring slightly at the back of the tent, both Orlean and Sam’s soft breathing filling the air. Orlean shifted, muttering something incoherent but there was something there in the darkness that he couldn’t quite here.

He carefully crawled out from between Sam and Orlean. Sam shifted closer to Dean and he took it as the only disturbance he caused.

He let out the breath he had been holding, standing. Shoes were quickly shoved on and a sweater pulled over his head before he moved to the tent’s entrance. He slipped his fingers around the zipper of the entrance and muted the noise as best he could till there was a gap big enough for him to slip out. The air outside the tent was crisp, sharp, and he quickly replaced the flap and zipper to keep the draft at a minimum. The night wasn’t silent. At minimum the river made enough noise to make that impossible. There were other sounds but none of them had been what he had heard. Or thought he heard. It was like the noise was on the edge of his hearing, making it nearly impossible to discern what it actually was.

The zipper opening on the other tent made him jump. He turned, watching as a figure stepped out holding something. The zipper was replaced before there was a click accompanied by light. The stream of light landed on his chest.

“Everything alright, Tye?”

He smiled, finding himself relaxing at Cole’s voice. “Yeah. Just got woken up by something. Figured I could at least make sure it wasn’t something to be worried about before going back to sleep.”

“Something you can half hear, right?”

The smile fell from his face. “Y-yeah. Did it wake you too?”

“No. Lora woke me up. She wanted me to go check on the vehicles to see if it was anything there.”

He nodded, stepping towards Cole. “I’ll go with you so you’re not out there alone.”

“Thanks,” carried Cole’s smile before the other turned.

He fell into step at Cole’s side for as long as the trail permitted. The trek to the vehicles was quiet but short. When they stepped onto the gravel drive, not even the river could be heard anymore. He frowned as he followed Cole towards the familiar vehicles, gaze wandering the empty camping lot. “Wow. It really is deserted over here.”

“More than when we had arrived. Not sure why people didn’t stick around.” Cole fished out a set of keys and unlocked the larger camper first. “Let me go pee since we’re here and then we’ll do a sweep around the vehicles.”

“Alright.”

Light filled the camper as Cole hit the light switch on his way in. Artemis followed after, closing and locking the door out of habit. Cole beelined for the bathroom and for a moment Artemis stood in the middle of the room at a loss. He rotated slowly before starting for the driver’s seat. He moved the blackout curtain enough to slip into the small space beyond. As it fell shut behind him, he was cast in darkness. His hand found the back of both seats and he settled into the passenger waiting for his eyes to adjust.

The river was somewhere in front of him through the trees but the forest was too thick for him to even get a glint of moonlight off of water. Still, despite the waning moon overhead barely giving the night any light, his gaze wandered the trees curious if there was any wildlife awake.

Something moved off to his left. At first he didn’t really reacted. He was in the camper, he was safe, and so when he looked over, he expected it to be a play of shadows out of the corner of his eye from the trees dancing in a light breeze.

Adrenaline shot through him and he leapt to his feet, right hand finding the dash to keep himself steady. The memory of the thing in the smoke nipped at the back of his mind as he started at the now empty spot. There had been…something in the spot at the other end of the row but it had vanished before he could focus on it properly. The rest of the lot looked empty but he didn’t dare move more in case he drew whatever it had been’s attention.

“Tye?”

Artemis jumped, turning sharply as the curtain was drawn back, filling the small space with light. What grin had started to cross Cole’s face fell to be replaced by concern. “You alright?” Cole’s gaze went out the windows. “Did you see something?”

He shook his head, not sure he had even seen anything in the first place. “Just spooking myself with shadows.” Cole’s concerned gaze fell on him again but he pulled himself into a relaxed stance. “Let’s do our check and head back. I’m sure Lora’s getting worried by now.”

“Ah, you’re probably right. Come on.”

Cole let him exit the camper first before shutting off the lights and following. The other vehicle was a smaller camper in the next spot over. They did a lap around both vehicles and while they found nothing around the vehicles, Artemis couldn’t help but took towards the spot at the far end of the row when it came into view.

Nothing was there and he didn’t see the thing again.

“Alright. Looks like we’re all clear.” Cole shifted the flashlight to his other hand. “Have you heard the noise since we’ve been here?”

Artemis shook his head. “I haven’t really heard it since it woke me up.”

“Hmmm. Must have been from the lake, then.”

“You truly think Lora and I had heard something, then?”

Cole looked at him but the shadows made it hard to see his expression, let alone his eyes. “I hadn’t really thought much about Lora’s concern till I saw you outside the tent. I don’t have the best hearing. Lora’s always had really good ears. I bet if I had woken Kit, they would have heard whatever it was too. They’ve got really good ears too.”

Cole started for the trail head and he fell into step beside him. “Is it possible for the sound to carry that far across the lake?”

“I don’t know.” They both knew the area meaning Cole knew exactly which spot Artemis was referring to. The only other camper lot was on the far side of the very large lake and, outside the beach he and the others had started fishing on, there weren’t very many camping spots to pitch a tent - legally or otherwise. “If you hear it when we get back, we can always follow the river back to the lake and see if it’s on the beach. Otherwise I don’t think it’s anything we can worry about.”

Silence settled between them. Only the sound of their footfall and their own breath kept it from being absolute. After a while, the sounds of the river joined in, filling the silence.

Cole’s demeanor changed. “Cole?”

“I think the others are up?”

Artemis had been too lost in thought to pay much attention to the trail itself so when he brought his gaze up, he was surprised to see light through the trees. “They looking for us?”

“No, I don’t think so. They’re not pointing the flashlights at us.” Cole picked up the pace. “Come on.”

Even with it being a tended trail, the jog Cole settled at was still dangerous in the limited light. Artemis had to trust that if anything was on the trail, Cole would find it first. Fortunately the trail opened up onto the stretch of riverbank where the tents were at without either of them hurting themselves. The flashlights were in the hands of their companions but something seemed off.

Cole went straight to Lora. “Is everything alright?”

Apprehension filled Artemis’s chest. Why was everyone up?

“Did you find anything?” Lora asked, taking Cole’s offered hand when they were close enough.

“Other than the two campers alone in the lot, no. Why is everyone awake?”

“Shhh,” Beckett encouraged softly from somewhere between the two tents. “Listen.”

Artemis stilled, eyes focused on Beckett’s outline. The loudest noise was his own heartbeat in his ears followed closely by the sounds of the river but as his pulse slowed down, he started to think there was nothing to hear.

Until there was a tone that drew his attention to the trees behind the tents.

Every hair stood on end as he stared at the tree line. The tone changed, shifted, and danced around but it was faint enough that despite being able to hear it, he couldn’t tell what it was.

“Is that…” Dean started so quietly that Artemis barely made out the words. It took a stretch before he could pick out the shifting tone again.

“It sounds like an old radio,” Orlean offered. Orlean shifted the flashlight to the trees where Artemis had been looking but didn’t seem to find anything in the slow sweep. It passed over the others, though, and Artemis caught them all looking at the trees. “Do we…go check it out?”

“Have you never watched a horror movie?” Sam interjected, her voice a fair pitch higher than normal. He realized she was clinging to Dean and it looked like Dean was clinging right back. “No. Best thing to do is grab what we need and walk back to the campers.”

“And leave the tents behind?” Cole interjected, the frown evident in his words.

“You can buy those when we get back,” Sam snapped back. “I don’t want to get murdered out in the middle of nowhere.”

“She’s right, Cole,” Lora interjected before Cole could get going. “We’re not planning on camping again anytime soon so we can save up for new mattresses and tents. It’ll be fine.”

“I know but-” There was a snap of wood in the trees beyond the tents cutting Cole’s words off. If anyone in the group wasn’t already panicking, that would have done it. Artemis froze on the spot as every flashlight turned to the trees. Cole’s harsh whisper wrapped around the camp, drawing all of their attention. “Everyone, towards Artemis. Make a break for the camper when I tell you to. Lora has the keys.”

Sam and Dean didn’t waste time hurrying to his side. Orlean followed after them keeping his flashlight steadily pointed where Cole’s and Lora’s were. Lora walked over to Artemis, Cole following slowly behind only to stop two steps in. “Beckett.” Beckett hadn’t moved. They were still standing there looking at the forest and Artemis didn’t understand why. “Beckett, come on.”

Cole started for Beckett but there was another snap accompanied by more noise. The sound had been steadily growing and now it was crystal clear. It was a classical piece - something like Beethoven or Bach - playing over an old radio. It was turned down as a body stepped into one of the beams of light.

Despite the uniform, no one relaxed, and by the sheepish look on the park ranger’s face, it seemed the ranger didn’t take any offense. “Sorry about that, folks. That must of startled all of you.”

“What were you doing hiking off trail?” Cole all but demanded. Artemis glanced at him. There was still distance between Cole and Beckett.

Again, it seemed the ranger took no offense. “There’s a clearing a couple hundred yards back where people like to illegally camp. Hadn’t been informed folks had settled here for the night and figured I’d make my rounds.” The ranger frowned. “Good I did, too. It best you folk pack up and head out soon. We’ve got word from the weather station a nasty storm’s coming in that’ll most likely block off the pass by noon.”

Cole’s stance shifted slightly. “Alright. We’ll start packing up and heading out. Thanks for letting us know.”

The ranger nodded. “Safe travels, folks.”

Artemis felt the group shift as the ranger started to walk towards the trail head Artemis was standing close to and Artemis took the initiative to break it. He started for the tents like he was following the ranger’s words and the others followed. He glanced back but the ranger didn’t. Instead, the man turned the radio back on and continued on his merry way down the trail. He looked to the others.

“Start letting the air out of the mattresses and empty the tents,” Cole softly directed the group, eyes still on the ranger’s retreating back even though the darkness had swallowed the stranger. “We’ll leave as soon as we can get everything broken down and packed.”
Before anyone could move to follow Cole’s directions, a cacophony of sound came from the tents. The blaring alarm made everyone jump and it took Artemis far too long to realize it was the emergency broadcast alert coming from their cell phones. The group quietly dispersed to the tents. Artemis pulled his phone from where he had stashed it. It had stopped screaming but the screen was still on from the push notification.

“Seems like that strange dude was right,” Dean commented, looking up from his phone. “Snowstorm for the area. Alert’s in affect in three hours with far too much snow for my liking.”

Far too much was right. They were expecting two to three feet by the end of the day as a minimum. There was no telling if the pass would remain open once the storm hit.

Cole pulled the flap back on their tent gaining everyone’s attention. “Come on. Pack up. We’ve got to move quickly.”

Artemis shoved his phone into a pocket and started gathering his things.

The sun started peaking over the horizon when the last zipper was pulled closed. He grabbed what he could manage before grabbing one end of the bundled tents. Orlean grabbed the other and together they shared the weight as the group started for the campers. Despite how bizarre the whole encounter had been, the mass of clouds rolling in from the west was impossible to miss even if they hadn’t all received the emergency alert.

“We’re stopping by the cabin to grab everything else but you guys are more than welcome to take the second camper and head through the pass before the snow starts,” Cole suggested, shutting and locking the compartment door.

“I still have things at the cabin,” Sam interjected, sounding distraught.

“We all do,” Orlean spoke up. “I’ll drive the other camper and follow you.”

Cole gave them a skeptical look. “You sure? We may be cutting close as it is.”

Orlean shrugged. “More hands makes light work. It’ll make sure everyone has a chance of getting out.”

Dean spoke up. “We’ll ride with Orlean. Tye, go with them and we’ll see you there.”

“You sure?” he asked, looking to Orlean. “I can be your navigator.”

Orlean waved him off. “I won’t lose you guys and if I do, I’ve got GPS.” Orlean stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Take the downtime. You look like you need it more than I need a navigator.”

The exhaustion wrapped around him for a breath before he forced it back. “Only if you’re sure.”

Orlean nodded, gaze drifting to over his shoulder. “Check in on Beckett. I don’t like how they hadn’t responded to their brother.”

“I will. Drive safe.”

Orlean nodded, stepping away. As Artemis climbed into the camper, he caught Cole passing Orlean the keys to the other camper muttering something to younger as he did so. Inside the camper, Lora was crossing the main space towards the front seats. She smiled at him, offering gently, “They’re on the bed if you want to go join. Should be safe enough for the thirty minute drive. Don’t fret about the sheets. We’ll wash them later.”

“Ok.”

He waited till she was busy up at the front seats before he headed towards the bedroom. The sound of the camper door closing chased after him but he didn’t look back. Cole’s voice drifted towards him; it was soft and quickly followed by Lora’s. He closed the bedroom door, sending the space into darkness. It wasn’t absolute. The blackout shades were open to the sheer shades on the left side - the side pointing west - allowing the ambient morning light to fill the room enough for him to make out Beckett’s form laying on the bed. They didn’t respond to him, didn’t say a word about him closing the door, and he wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not. Kicking off his shoes and dusting off his pants, he walked over to the bed and clambered on. The thing was massive compared to what he had slept on the night before but that was probably due to the fact that it was just him and Beckett.

Beckett watched as he got between them and the western window, putting the window to his right and Beckett to his left as he settled on his back. The engine kicked on but it was muffled, faint, like the radio had been when it had woken him up.

“Do you think he was an actual ranger?” Beckett asked, their quiet voice cutting through what silence existed as the camper started to move.

“I’m not sure,” he offered honestly. “I’ve only seen them at the park entrances.” He turned his head to look at them and found himself meeting Beckett’s gaze. “Why didn’t you join us when Cole called for you?”

Beckett frowned. “I’m not sure. I had heard him - I remember hearing him - but I didn’t want to move.” They turned their gaze back to the ceiling, the frown deepening. “It was like if I moved, I would lose whatever ground I was holding; like it would put us all at risk if I moved.”

Unease pulled at him at that. “Beckett,” he started but the words weren’t ready. He had to finish sorting through them and it caused a pause that seemed to stretch on forever. “When you were taking pictures of the smoke, did you see something fly through it that wasn’t a swallow?”

Beckett blinked and looked back at him. The confusion edged in curiosity made it clear that they hadn’t. “Like what?”

He shrugged, turning his head towards the ceiling. He watched as the shadows dance on the wall above his head from the passing trees. The camper was heading north, though it turned east as he watched the shadows move. “I’m not sure. It was most likely just my eyes playing tricks on me but I thought I saw something other than a swallow fly through the part you were taking pictures of.”

The sound of loose gravel in the wheel wells filled the stretch of time neither of them talked. Beckett reached over and touched his arm, gaining his gaze. “Do you remember what it looked like?”

“No. Just that it was large. It looked black but that was probably more from it being out of the corner of my-” Pain flared from his right shoulder startling a hiss out of him. It was a stabbing pain, pulling the thought of someone burying a sharp blade into his shoulder even as the imagery didn’t sit right. Beckett was up and on their knees beside him, hands hovering over him. The pain was brief, fading as quickly as it had shot through him. He rubbed at his shoulder and neck, grounding out a curse before offering Beckett, “I’m ok. I’m ok. I think a muscle just seized or something. It hurt, whatever it was, but it’s fading now.”

Beckett relaxed. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, sitting up. “Yeah.” He rolled his shoulder. “See? No pain.”

Beckett nodded before letting out a laugh. “You nearly gave me a heart attack crying out like that.”

He chuckled. “Nearly gave myself one.” The mood sobered a bit. “You really hadn’t seen anything in the smoke?”

“Just the swallows. Sorry.”

He waved them off. “Nothing to be sorry for. It truly might have been my eyes playing tricks on me with one of the swallows.”

“Could’ve been a bat,” Beckett suggested flopping back onto the bed. “Wish I’d seen a bat.”

“There’s bats in the neighborhood, you know.”

Beckett grinned at them. “That’s not the same and you know it.” Beckett’s gaze went to the ceiling again as they tucked their hands behind their head. “Could you imagine getting a picture of a wild bat flying through our campfire smoke? That would have been so cool.”

“How many pictures did you take?”

Beckett sat up. “Don’t know. I can find out, though.”

The camper jostled around them but Beckett didn’t seem to notice. They crawled across the mattress as if they were used to their world being unsteady and settled on their stomach once they reached the edge of the bed. Artemis stayed laying down, knowing he would not be quite as graceful. Beckett returned to their spot on the bed with camera case in hand.

The zipper opened with ease and Beckett pulled the camera out with care. Artemis was impressed by how careful Beckett was even after years of owning the camera. They left the cap in place and turned the camera on. The display blinked to life and he watched as they adjusted the brightness before going into the gallery. “Eleven twenty-six.”

He stared at the 1126 sitting in the corner of the display before looking at their face. His expression was an exaggerated neutral. “And how many are the same photo?”

Beckett grinned. “Oh, I’d say about a good 5/6 are. I’ll be impressed if I get more than 100 photos out of the batch. I had the camera set to capture multiple shots, especially when I was trying to catch the swallows in the smoke.”

“You brought your laptop, right?”

“Yeah. It’s at the cabin. I’ll set up at the dining table and go through them. You’re welcome to watch but as a warning I do a lot of flipping back and forth. Makes Cole sick when he’s watching me work.”

He found that rather amusing. “I’m honestly not surprised.”

“But yeah. As soon as we’re back at the cabin I’ll start downloading the photos and…”

It was like Beckett’s voice faded. He could see them still chatting away but about what he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that there was something in the corner of the room to his right, the corner that was farthest from them both, and it was watching him.

It was like his brain fried. He couldn’t think, couldn’t get his thoughts going rapidly enough to response to the situation. He had to warn Beckett, though. Beckett hadn’t seen it yet. They were just sitting there tucking the camera into some safe spot in the room and there was something in the corner.

He could scream, he reasoned. He should scream, scream bloody murder till someone noticed it too. Someone else had to see it too. It had to-

Beckett turned and looked right at the corner. Whatever had gripped him vanished as he blinked.

Whatever had been in the corner was gone.

“Artemis?” He jumped, head snapping around to stare at them. Beckett hadn’t moved from their spot on the other side of the bed. “You alright?”

He took in a breath, steadying himself. “Yeah. Just tired.” The lie slipped out with practiced ease and he knew it was believable. It was always believable.

Unfortunately for him, Beckett could read him like a book. “You sure?” they asked, offering him the out.

He didn’t like lying to them but he wasn’t about to get them involved with his crazy if he didn’t have to. Still, he offered them an encouraging smile and a half truth in turn. “I’m fine, Beckett. Just some leftover jumpiness from this morning mixing in with the lack of proper sleep.”

They let it be and he silently thanked them for taking that at face value. “Fair enough. I was asking what you thought we should do for the six hours to my brother’s place. Did we want to just hop in the camper with the others and leave my brother and Lora to their own devices? Did we want to keep the group separate?”

He shrugged. “I think that depends on how things go at the cabin. We’ve got a lot to get together before the storm shuts down the pass and then we have to stay ahead of the storm.”

Beckett went hunting for something. “I wonder if Sam remembers what the Doppler site had been.”

He wasn’t surprised to see it had been their phone, commenting, “Most likely. If not her, then Orlean would.”

“How far out from the cabin are we?”

“Let me check.” He pulled out his own phone as Beckett flopped back onto the bed beside him. A few quick taps got him into the map but the network was being slow. “Give it a second. It’s being slow.”
He frowned, looking at the window. The sheer shade obscured a lot of the view but he could make out the faint shapes of trees passing slowly by before there was a soft jerk forward and the camper stopped.

“There’s no way we’re already there, is there?” Beckett asked, a frown on their face.

He shook his head, getting up. “Not a chance. It’s a thirty minute drive without traffic and if enough people got the notice, we’ll hit traffic.”

He opened the bedroom door and moved to the front seats. Beckett’s footfall was soft behind him. The front curtain was open and he didn’t wait to speak up. “What’s going on? Why’d we stop?” he asked, gaze going out the windshield.

The winding road disappeared around a cliff side but he could make out a portion of it in the distance. The flashing lights were hard to miss.

“Might have been an accident,” Cole offered, “could have been a landslide. Either way, I don’t think we’ll make it to the pass.”

“Do we want to just hunker down at the cabin, then? We had already planned on being there for a week.”

“We could send you lot on ahead. You’d just have to be without whatever’s at the cabin till the pass clears out.”

He caught a glimpse of the little notification on the map about an accident ahead before he closed the app. “Let me call Orlean.” A few quick taps and the sound of the phone ringing filled the small space.

“Yo,” Orlean answered.

“You’re on speaker,” he informed him.

Cole took over the conversation. “There’s an accident up ahead. Even going around will make it near impossible to stop at the cabin AND make it through the pass. We can stop by the store and brave the masses for what little more we need supply wise but if you guys are up to being without whatever’s at the cabin, I’ll send Artemis and Beckett to you now and you guys can take the back route to the pass.”

“The Doppler’s got the storm moving to hit the pass first,” Sam interjected, muffled at first until she got closer. “We’d just as likely get caught in it trying to leave now as we would trying to go around this.”

Beckett presented their screen. “It just updated.” Lora took the phone so that she could show Cole while he kept his eyes on the traffic. “The storm shifted from the predicted enough to be a problem.”

“Then we hunker down at the cabin. We’ve already got enough food to last the week but I want to stop by the store and get a bit more just in case.”

“Best bale now, then.” He pointed at the coming turn. “We can take that to get to the store.”

“Orlean, follow as best you can. Artemis, can you go ride with them and help navigate in case we hit troubles?”

“Traffic’s moving,” Orlean pointed out, “and we’ll be fine. I’ll stay on the line and Beckett’s already texting Sam. We won’t lose you.”

Cole sighed, taking the turn as soon as it was clear. Artemis got a brief glimpse of the other camper’s bumper as it followed close. “Sorry about this, guys. Hadn’t intended to get us all caught in a snowstorm.”

“Hey, some things can’t be helped,” Orlean countered.

Sam added, “The snow wasn’t predicted to come in till tomorrow and only with a few inches. It didn’t ramp up to this severity till a few hours before the alert went out; this is just how rapidly things can change. At least we now have the systems to warn people.”

“Did it really come out of nowhere?” he inquired. “I thought our weather tech was better than that.”

He could practically see her shaking her head as she explained, “They were keeping an eye on it but it’s hard to tell what a storm cell will do until it happens. Even the prediction of heavy snowfall can be inaccurate but I trust what they’re seeing happening to the west that we’ll at least have blizzard conditions for the duration it’s over us.”

“There’s already snowfall?” Cole asked, alarmed.

“Yeah, it’s a big system. If Beckett still has their phone, they can zoom out on the map and show you where the snowfall is at. And it’s a good thing that it’s hitting something other than us right now. Gives meteorologists time to gather more data before ensuing more panic if panic is needed.”

He frowned at that. “So there’s a chance it could be worse than predicted?”

“Only in longevity. It could settle over us for a few days but right now the winds are pushing it through rather quickly, thus the blizzard concern. Even a lack of inches can create blizzard conditions if the winds are right. But if this settles in the valley, we really could see feet worth of snow by the end of the week, let alone this evening.”

“Then let’s hope the winds keep it going,” Cole said. “We’re about a half hour out from the store and, depending on how busy that it, could be another two to three hours before we make it to the cabin. When is the snow supposed to start?”

“For the area?” There was a pause. “They’re still expecting it heaviest around noon but we should start seeing it a few hours prior. Most likely we’ll get the winds first, though I am surprised we haven’t gotten them yet. The temperature difference between yesterday and today is ridiculous. From their expectations, we’ve already reached the high for the day. It’s only going to get colder.”

“So take the winds as the first warning, then.”

“Pretty much.”

Cole sighed. “Alright. We’ll hit the store for food and water.” There was a pause and he watched Cole’s hands flex around the steering wheel. “I know this is probably overkill but when we get back, I’ll need an extra hand to remove the two water tanks from the campers and we’ll take them in to use as backup on the off chance something goes wrong.”

“Nothing should,” Lora added, her voice light and reassuring as she gave Cole’s arm a gentle squeeze. “The cabin’s been made to withstand more than a simple blizzard and the pipes will be fine. But, if it will ease your mind, we’ll pull the tanks.”

“I’ll help with the tanks, Cole,” Orlean put in as Cole shot her an appreciated look that looked a little pinched.

“So will I and Sam, if you need any other help,” Dean added.

“We trust your judgment in this,” Sam finished off. “If you want to be set for a week without running water and electricity, let’s prep for it.”

A look crossed Cole’s face but Artemis was at the wrong angle to understand what it had been. “Thanks, guys. Hopefully it’s just me being paranoid.”

Orlean spoke up again. “Nothing wrong with a healthy dose of caution.”

There wasn’t much conversation after that beyond small talk between Dean and Lora with a random comment here and there from the others. It passed the time and was enough of a distraction that by the time they made it to the store, Artemis realized that the winds had arrived. The entire camper shuddered against the force of one gale as he rummaged through what had been left in the camper looking for a coat or sweater. Lora was on the other side of the bed while he could hear Cole and Beckett talking in the main space waiting for the others.

The air pressure in the camper changed as his hand wrapped around a familiar sleeve. “Found them, Lora,” he announced, pulling out first the sweater he had grabbed before going and pulling out the rest of the pile. It was measly to say the least but there was enough there to keep everyone warm. Lora went through it as she made it a more manageable pile as Sam and Dean’s voices drifted into the room. The pressure settled back to normal. “Hopefully some got left in the other camper as well.”

He followed Lora out. There was a pile on the table that Lora added to. “Oh good. You were able to find some,” Lora commented, pulling out one of the heavier sweaters and passing it and a jacket to Cole. “Here.”

Beckett snuck closer and started digging through the pile. Artemis moved over to Orlean. He could wait till the others were done. “How cold is it out there?”

“Enough that I want a second sweater once there’s room,” Orlean deadpanned with a flat expression. “The wind’s brutal.”

“See if you can’t find something else for me while your in there,” Dean interjected, voice low. “What I picked is too tight.”

Artemis looked over Dean’s choice. “Take it off. Beckett will probably fit that better anyways and we’ll get something that’s looser.”

Dean nodded. There was an attempt to get the sweater off but it really was too small for him to manage it on his own. It took Sam and Orlean to get him out of it without hurting himself or the sweater. Artemis took it, not missing Cole passing Sam a heavy coat for Dean to try. Artemis passed the sweater to Beckett who was already in one sweater. They didn’t hesitate to pull on the one Dean had been wearing.

“Here.” Beckett handed him a rather familiar sweater. It had been old when he had last seen it and to see it now still relatively whole was amazing. What felt remained of the image on the chest was the base and a vague shape of some rodent. He pulled it on even as he asked, “What had been on this? A mouse?”

“Rabbit,” Beckett supplied, passing him a lined wind breaker that was definitely too big. He pulled it on anyways.

“What happened to the rest of it?”

Beckett looked at the chest of the sweater. “Either the hot glue melted or the pieces got torn off.” They met his gaze. “I’m surprised you remember it at all. You saw it, what, once?”

He shrugged.

“Alright,” Cole called out, drawing everyone’s attention. “Everyone bundled?” There was a murmur of affirmations. “Good. Let’s get in and get some supplies.”

It was still early enough in the morning that the store wasn’t as busy as he had somehow expected it to be. There were a number of cars in the parking lot - a good number for almost nine on a weekday - but it was as if it was a normal day and they were the only ones stressing the coming storm. Once inside the store, it was clear they weren’t, but there was still plenty of water to get and plenty of groceries to pick from.

Lora and Sam broke off from the group in the produce department while Cole and Dean went for the meat. It had been agreed that while they were going to prep for a week, they were also going to still eat well. Still, Beckett took one of the carry baskets and started on the soup aisle as he and Orlean were sent to go get water and the few other essentials they would need.

Orlean stopped at the start of the water aisle, eyes already on the paper aisle. “I’ll go get toiletries if you’ve got the water.”

“Go for it,” he encouraged. Orlean walked off, leaving him alone with the cart.

He pulled four of the largest jugs available onto the undercarriage of the cart before wandering down the aisle. He knew if water went out for a week, it wouldn’t be nearly enough, but he trusted that it would only be for a last resort. He grabbed an assortment of sports drinks and juices before grabbing two cases of soda. There were already several at the cabin but it wasn’t like they wouldn’t get consumed at some point if they weren’t trapped there for a week.

Orlean found him as he was putting the soda in the cart and there was a pleased glint in the other’s eye that had him stop second guessing his decision. Orlean tucked the two large packs of toilet paper on top of the neatly packed drinks before tucking in a few boxes of bar soap, a small bottle of dish soap, and a large tube of the toothpaste he knew Beckett and Cole favored. He raised an eyebrow at Orlean. Orlean shrugged. “They’ve got good taste. If anyone runs out, we’ll have a spare and it’ll get used eventually.”

“You don’t think we’re going overboard with this, do you?” he found himself asking, tugging on the cart to start for the others.

“I’d much rather be over prepared and lack the stress than under prepared and stressed the entire time.” Orlean stopped at the frozen chicken breasts and grabbed two of the large bags. “Besides, this way we can camp out in the cabin for the next week and ignore the rest of the world. As much fun as camp sight hopping sounded, after this morning I’m all good for holding up in the cabin and not coming out till we have to leave.”
“With you on that.”

He looked over to Cole and Dean at Cole’s comment. The two put a good collection of meats into the cart. Cole added, “Should provide us enough variety with what we already have to eat well the next week.”

“The nice thing about staying at the cabin,” Lora added, joining them with Sam. They put in their assortment of fresh produce. Beckett wasn’t far behind toting the carry basket with bread on top of some number of soups. “We should be good to go, then.”

“Did we need anything from dairy?” Orlean asked, helping Beckett put the bread and cans into the cart.

“We could pick up another carton of eggs?” Cole directed at Lora.

She didn’t stop going through what was already in the cart. She passed one of the bags of frozen chicken back to Orlean. “Another carton wouldn’t hurt. Eggs are versatile. We should pick up some more cheese and milk, though. Should be good on seasonings for everything else.” She passed Beckett two cans, of which Beckett put back into the cart.

“Random eats,” Beckett explained.

Lora accepted that before finishing, “Anything else we need is already at the cabin and this will allow some variety in meals over the next few days.”

Orlean wandered back with a carton of eggs, two blocks of cheese, and a gallon of milk. There was a small tub of butter on his tiny stack. “Date was far enough out on the milk that I got a gallon. Figured we could do with extra butter. Throw it in the freezer till we need it, if we need it.”

Lora helped him tuck the items in the cart as Cole closed his hands around the front of the cart. “Alright. Does anyone need anything else while we’re here?” No one said yes. “Alright. Let’s get checked out and on our way.”

It turned out to be well timed. He hadn’t really noticed the influx of people till they were hearing the call for cashiers over the radios, the line that had only been them and the two people ahead of them suddenly turning into ten by the time they reached the register. Orlean and Cole settled into loading the belt as Dean and Sam settled at the bags. Lora stood before the cashier starting up small talk with ease. Beckett wrapped a hand around his wrist and pulled him out of the way. They leaned back against the wall across from the bags, grinning at Dean’s antics as Sam smacked him for them. Artemis stood beside them, gaze wandering what he could see of the store.

The influx of the line was controlled with the four registers now open but he could see the masses in grocery. It was only a matter of time before there would be a need for more registers.

“Think it’ll be bad?”

He looked out of the corner of his eye at Beckett. They were watching their companions. “I don’t think it’s as bad as we’re fearing but it probably won’t be anything we can sneeze at.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“About what?”

They shrugged. “The plans. Most of this had been from yours and Cole’s hard work planning all this.”

He let the wall take his weight. “I hadn’t really gotten attached to the plan. It was a guideline able to be changed at a whim’s notice.” He could make out the total from where they stood. He made a mental note to send Cole some cash as he watched the man insert a card into the chip reader. “I really am with Orlean on the whole hunkering down in the cabin for the rest of the week. Even if I had mapped everything out, I don’t want to have a repeat of this morning. That had been beyond weird.”

Beckett stepped away from the wall as Cole took the receipt from the cashier. He followed their lead, rejoining the group as they made their way towards the exit.

Cole spoke up as they exited the store. “When we get back, those that are helping me with the tanks unload groceries. I’m going to drain the systems before unhooking the tanks and that’ll take some time. The rest of you check the wood in the store room, see if we need to add to it before the storm gets too bad. We should be ok but I want to be sure before the storm hits.”

“Did we need to pick up wood?” Sam asked, frowning.

“No. There’s a couple trees marked in the woods we can chop if needed but we should be good.”

Artemis raised an eyebrow at that out of amusement and disbelief. “You can chop down a tree.”

Cole grinned at him. “I can certainly try.”

They loaded the groceries into the larger camper and left as the worst of the winds arrived. He found the deck of cards before joining Beckett at the table. He shuffled and dealt for Speed. Beckett seemed quite content with the game choice as they picked up their hand and grabbed one of the two start cards for the discard piles. The ride to the cabin passed in a blur of cards snapping against the table and the howling wind drowning out the sound of the engine.

“Snow’s starting,” Cole announced as he packed the cards away. “I’ve got to drain both systems before it gets too bad. Beckett, can you go start the other camper?”

“Yeah, sure.” Beckett finished donning layers before hopping out of the camper. Orlean quickly took their place, followed by Dean and Sam. “We’ve got groceries,” Orlean announced, going for the stored goods. There was some noise of affirmation from Cole.

He tucked the deck of cards into his pocket, patting Orlean’s shoulder. “If you guys need me, I’ll be in the house checking on the wood stock and putting groceries away after that.”

Dean grinned at him as he passed. “See ya in a bit.”

The wind smacked in him the face with a handful of sleet as soon as he opened the door. He sputtered against it, rubbing at his now cold face to get the worst of it off.

The cabin wasn’t massive but it housed the seven of them quite comfortably. He certainly liked it. It was a stocky, one story building with vaulted ceilings. There was a loft instead of an attic that was open to the living room and kitchen space. All the bedrooms and bathrooms were tucked under the loft. His favorite place was the back of the loft where the windows looked out over the back stretch of the property. Someone had build in a window seat and shelving, utilizing the peaked space very well.

The other nice thing about it was that it was warm when he stepped in. He gave a full body shudder as he kicked off his shoes at the door. He could see Lora already moving about the kitchen. The moment she caught sight of him, she crossed to him. “Can you take this downstairs and put it in the ice box? I’ll send one of the others down with the rest we’ll need to put in there to make room for what we bought.”

“Sure.” He took the precarious stack of frozen meat. “Store room for the wood was off the main basement space, right? Left door?”

“Yes.” She gave him a smile. “And thank you for checking how much we have. It’s appreciated.”

He nodded.

The stairs for the basement were tucked under the stairs for the loft. It was a bit of a challenge balancing the precarious pile of meats but he managed to get the door open without dropping anything. The basement itself wasn’t finished with drywall on every wall but the pipes and electrical was all tucked away and what concrete was exposed seemed to be by deliberate choice rather than unfinished project. He was at least grateful for the carpet that had been put in. It was cool down there and despite the warmth of the previous day, the basement floor was cool. The ice box was against one of the cement walls with the washer and dryer. The ice box only had a few items in it but he still carefully placed the items in there rather than dumping the armload like he was tempted to do.

Chatter from upstairs drifted down to him as he closed the ice box. He glanced towards the stairs before moving to the door that hid the wood storage. He didn’t care for the room itself - there was no drywall leaving it to feel more cave like than other parts of the basement - but the space was clean. The left wall had metal shelving units with an assortment of tools, cans, and objects for repairs around the cabin. The wood was stacked on one of the two wooden ‘U’s build into the space to keep the wood off the ground and away from the walls. The massive, squared ‘U’s stretched the length of the small room.

“Fancy,” slipped off his tongue like it had the first time he had caught a glimpse of them. He closed the door and started for the stairs. The ‘U’ with wood on it was close to 3/4ths full which, if he had to guess, would last them for the next two weeks even if they burned wood all day every day for the duration. He wasn’t sure, though, so hopefully Cole-

His head whipped around, eyes snapping to the door leading to the store room.

The door was wide open.

He had closed it - he knew he had closed it - but it was gaping open into the space beyond. Every fiber of his being was screaming for him to run but his back was against the wall of the stairs as he just stood there staring wide eyed at the doorway. There was no way-it was impossible-it couldn’t-

He caught sight of a black mass at the bottom of the stairs and he bolted.

Or, well, tried to bolt it. Instead, he collided face first into Beckett’s chest.

“Artemis! Are you alright? What happened?”

He gripped at their left arm to keep himself steady before whipping around to find the bottom of the stairs empty. His gaze immediately went to the store room door.

It was still open.

He desperately hoped the movement he had seen in the room before he had been able to focus on the doorway had been a trick of his eyes, a figment of his imagination.

“Artemis?”

He looked up at Beckett. They were looking over the basement area but the concern didn’t morph into anything that spoke of them seeing anything close to what he had seen. “Sorry, Beckett,” he soothed, the lie already off his tongue before he could cull it. “I hadn’t realized you were coming down. I guess I had psyched myself out and you just happened to startle me.”

They were frowning at him. He wasn’t sure if that meant they didn’t believe him.

“Basements can get spooky.” They definitely didn’t believe him as their gaze returned to the basement. “I know Cole still has a hard time going in the basement of his own home. What got you jumpy? The store room?”

“Yeah,” he half lied, grateful for the out. “I don’t know what it is with underground rooms that are not much beyond cement and dirt.”

“I think we all have an instinctual fear of it.” They looked at him again. “I’ll go close the store room door if you want to go let Cole know how much wood we have.”

He shook his head, his fear spiking at the thought of them getting anywhere near whatever that had been. “I can do it. Wait here for a sec.”

He hurried down the stairs before they could counter his words. He was across the space to the door in a heartbeat and he wasn’t overly gentle when he yanked it closed.

The curiosity to know if the thing was in the store room or not was drowned out by the desire to not know.

They hadn’t moved as he rejoined them, feeling jumpy. Beckett didn’t say anything but he did gain a cursory glance over before the other turned and led the way up the stairs.

He fought the urge to look back the entire way.
He tried to hide the sigh that escaped him when he closed the door to the basement. Beckett didn’t wait for him, choosing instead to go talk to Sam who was sitting alone in the living room. “I take it they didn’t need your help, then?”

Sam looked up from her cell phone. “Oh, no. They probably could have used my help but I got a text from my brother I needed to answer.”

He frowned at that as he came to a stop at Beckett’s side. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Sam assured him with a huff of annoyance, rolling her eyes. “Mark’s just being over protective as usual. You would think that after I had turned 18 he would have eased up but no. He and the other olders keep treating me like I’m ten even though I turned 24 last month. It’s almost insulting.”

“Older brothers can get that way,” Beckett agreed. “But I doubt anything Cole’s done has been to the same level as yours.”

The huff of a laugh Sam let out seemed sad. “Yeah.” She sighed, sagging into the couch. “I just...when Dad died 9 years ago, I could understand why his and Kyle’s behavior - heck, even Todd’s once he reached 18 - changed but now that Luke is 18 and out at college with Paul and Peter leaving John to be the only one of us still needing a legal guardian, you would think they would let up; that they would recognize that, hey, the majority of us are now functioning adults. You don’t have to check up on us 24/7 anymore.” Sam’s words stalled out but neither he nor Beckett moved to fill it. He wasn’t sure if he had any right to comment on the situation. He had an older sister but she had moved out before he was even out of diapers and hadn’t really stayed in touch. Last he had heard, she was married to Husband #3 with three kids from the first two husbands and a fourth on the way. He didn’t even know his nieces and/or nephews’ names, let alone their genders. Sam picked her phone back up and cast a sad look over the screen. “But as much as it irks me,” she set the phone aside, “I can’t help but feel relieved that he had texted me to call him.” She looked at them. “Kyle’s out there finally introducing his fiancé to the oldest of us. Mark’s been harassing him about it since Kyle started dating Lenix and now that things have settled for Kyle, they’ve finally made the trip out to see him.”

“You’re worried about them,” Beckett pipe in, voice amused but the words gentle.

Sam looked away with a huff, cheeks turning red. “So? Wouldn’t you?”

“They didn’t have any troubles flying out, then?” he piped in.

Sam sighed again but at least she uncrossed her arms. “Yeah. They landed sometime late last night. They’re hoping to fly out here to see me should the weather permit before they’re off back to New Zealand but with how much trouble they had just to make it to California, I doubt they’ll get the chance to fly here, especially not if this storm sticks around.” Her expression tightened. “Or brings friends.”

“You really could have gone home instead of coming with us.” He knew the words weren’t of much use now but he repeated the old argument anyways.

Sam sighed, repeating her original comeback. “No. It’s the anniversary of Mom’s death and the olders are going to be all mopey. Besides, I saw him and Lenix two months ago. I can let Mark have this visit. There’s talk of surprising Todd so I’m not sure who of the family is aware that Kyle was even coming to visit.” Her expression gained a touch of sadness again. “I hope they manage to give Luke and Paul a chance to see him before he flies back to New Zealand. They took him leaving the country hardest, I think.”

“They probably will,” Beckett spoke, confident in the optimistic viewpoint.

Sam gave them a soft smile but it was fleeting at best.

There was a thudding at the door that disrupted any further conversation. He started for the door without a thought, catching snippets of familiar voice beyond the solid door. The door opened with ease to reveal Orlean’s back and the water tank from the larger camper. Cole had the other end of the tank and while he wasn’t certain the tank wasn’t heavy, it certainly looked awkward enough to require two people.

“Where you headed?” he asked, stepping aside with the door till it touched the wall.

“Basement,” Cole stated as Orlean crossed the threshold. “We’ll store them down there until we either need them or return them to the campers. The tap down there should run clean.”

“I can go run it real quick,” Beckett offered.

Cole tugged on the tank, slowing Orlean to a stop. “If you wouldn’t mind, Kit.”

Beckett bounded ahead of them, opening the door to the basement wide before disappearing down the stairs. He stayed at the front door till Lora and Dean were through with the other tank. He closed and locked the front door before following the slow train of people into the basement. Sam followed the group, joining him down the stairs.

He stopped near the halfway point of the stairs as Cole and Orlean step away from the first tank. They had placed it against the wall that faced the bottom of the stairs, which made sense. The sink was on the left side of the washer and dryer while the icebox took up the remaining wall space on the right. His gaze flickered over the store room door without his consent.

It was open and for a moment, icy dread shot down his spine, but then Beckett slipped out with a stack of wood closing the door behind them. The relief was greatly welcomed. Beckett placed the four pieces of wood down mimicking what must be under the first tank.

“Stick it up against this one on the wood,” Cole directed, gesturing towards the four pieces of wood.

The sink was between the washer machine and the first tank gushing water out of the faucet. The second tank was shoved into place between the first tank and the wall. It was a tight fit but it didn’t sound like they had damaged the wall. Not that he could hear anything beyond the sound of water in the sink.

Cole looked the lot of them over. “Alright. I’ll get the tanks filled if you all want to meander upstairs. Lora, did you want to get lunch going?”

“Sure. Orlean, do you care to help me?”

Orlean offered her a mildly surprised look. “If you need the help.”

The pair started up the stairs. Artemis hugged the railing as Sam pressed against the wall a step below.

“Beckett, mind sticking around?” Cole inquired as Dean took the lead out of the basement.

Beckett took their foot off the bottom step. “Not at all. Do you have the hose?”

He let their conversation fall to mutterings behind him as he followed after Dean and Sam. The pair was chatting about Sam’s brothers - more of her ranting at Dean about how stupid her older brothers were with “their overprotective bullshit” - and having heard the significant points of that conversation already, he started for the loft where he had staked his claim to a sleeping spot.

He stopped on the bottom step, gaze going to Lora in the kitchen. “Did any of the camping bags get brought in? Any of our bags?”

Lora paused wrist deep in something that was coating her entire arm up to the elbow in flour. “I don’t think so.”

“I can go get them,” he offered, stepping back onto the floor.

“We can help,” Dean interjected, wandering over with Sam.

He gave them both a curious look. “Only if you want to.”

Dean shrugged. “Will make it go by faster. The wind sucks and the sleet’s uncomfortable. No need for you to be out there for long just because we didn’t want to.”

He chuckled at that. “Fair.” He looked back at Lora. “Campers’ unlocked?”

“Should be. If not, Cole’s got the keys. I believe everything but personal packs got stowed in the large camper.”

“I didn’t lock the smaller,” Orlean added.

Dean nodded. “Sweet. Sam and I will go get our things while you get started on the stuff in the big camper, like Beckett’s camera bag and your own.”

He smiled at that. “Sounds good.”

The wind smacked into them first. The front porch’s roof protected them from getting smacked by the sleet immediately outside the door. He tugged at the outerwear he still wore in an attempt to protect as much of himself from the bite of both elements before dashing out from under the protection of the overhang.

The sleet was unforgiving in its bite but the wind kept it from smacking into him in a way that went directly under every layer he had. He went straight for the door of the camper and gave it a solid yank. It swung open easily on the hinges but the wind pushed against it as if to close the door before he could get in. He pressed his shoulder into the door long enough to get past it and into the camper.

The lights were off but what sunlight was cutting through the storm filled the camper with a nice, slightly muted light from the sheer curtain in the dining space and bedroom and from the open driver’s space. He went straight to the bedroom and pulled Beckett’s camera case out from where they had stowed it, carefully tucking it into the top of their backpack where he knew it normally lived while traveling with more than the camera itself. His backpack was in the undercarriage storage with the other bags which was far easier to access outside than inside.

He had barely stepped into the center of the main space before he froze, one arm frozen awkwardly in the middle of pulling Beckett’s backpack on properly.

Something not human was meandering into the space from the driver’s space. It was vaguely humanoid shape in the aspect that it was bipedal, had four limbs, and something that resembled a head well enough to give him something to look at. The thing was tall, sinewy, but when it spotted him, its height shrank and what mass it had collected into a form with more shape definition, becoming almost bulbous when it stopped compacting itself.

The thing was shorter than he was by a good foot and a half but that didn’t stop him from scrambling backwards when the thing launched itself at him.

Something landed on his shoulders only to immediately kick off, launching itself into the thing coming at him. Unbalanced, he landed hard on his butt, the bulk of the backpack keeping him upright.

Noise filled the small space. Terrible noise.

There was no way of him being able to tell heads or tails of the undulating mass that was two things that looked more shadow or ink than a living creature. He couldn’t figure out how to tell the difference from body and limb, let alone which creature was which, but he saw enough to know that the creatures were capable of great damage with hands that were reshaped into claws and teeth that were startling white compared to the rest of their forms.

There was a shriek that cut through his brain and left behind a pounding headache.

One of the forms vanished. How or why and where to he had no idea. One thing could have very well eaten the other and he wouldn’t have been able to tell. The one that remained turned its head. There were no discernible eyes but the mouth was still open enough for the white teeth to mark a point of reference.

There was a loud thud against the camper door before it was yanked open. His eyes left the thing for a second only to return and find that it had vanished. Dean and Sam came barreling in out of breath and bewildered only to find him alone in the camper on the floor probably looking equally bewildered if not outright terrified.

What the hell had he just seen?

What the hell even were those things!?
“Artemis!” “You alright?”

They both moved towards him but when Sam stopped and knelt beside him, Dean kept going moving into the bedroom

“What happened? We heard a…a scream.”

He shook his head only to flinch when it make the headache pulse painfully. “It-it wasn’t me.”

“But we heard it come from in here,” Dean countered, crossing to the front seats. “And there’s nothing in here other than you.”

The headache spiked and a growl came from his left side. He closed his eyes against the pain, against the knowledge that whatever it had been, it was still there. Something warm pressed into his left shoulder and he jumped away, running into Sam. He stared, suddenly able to see the creature.

It lowered its head crouching back down and he was left to deal with the bewilderment of the thought that the motion had sprung into his mind as it blinked out of existence again. There was no way it comprehended his action, no way that it understood that it had scared him and regretted such a thing. It wasn’t even real!

“Artemis?” He jumped again, gaze snapping to Sam. He realized she was gripping his shoulders, supporting him. “You alright?”

He looked back at the spot the creature had been in. “I don’t…” The breath shuddered in his chest but he found his mind racing with ease. The lie came and slid off his tongue without restrained, dancing with the truth he gave. He needed to figure out what the hell was going on and for some reason it meant keeping whatever the thing was to himself for the time being. It was stupid but there was no going back now. “Whatever that scream had been had startled me enough to throw me off balance.” He got himself to his feet. “I thought that something had touched my arm but I think it was just my shirt moving.”

“You’re ok, though?” Dean double checked.

He looked to the other and did his best to ignore the pounding in his head. “Yeah, I’m ok. Spooked but unharmed.”

Sam got to her feet. “Let’s get the rest of the bags and hurry in then. If it hadn’t been in the camper, it means it was outside and we should get in the house.”

“What if it’s under the camper?” Dean asked as Artemis touched the door handle.

The thing only he could see was visible again in the corner of his vision. It tipped its head to the side, curious, before getting up onto all fours and trudging over. He glanced back but turning his full attention on it made it disappear again. It didn’t stop it from brushing up against his leg as it apparently moved out of the camper into the young storm outside. He shifted his weight to hide the shudder of fear that raced through him. There was a thought growing in the back of his mind that he was trying desperately to deny because there was no way that thought was right. “I can check real quick. If it had been anything serious, it would have gotten you two when you ran in. As scary as it sounded, though, it could have just been two raccoons fighting under the camper.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Sam stated firmly. “That way if nothing is there, we can get the bags and run. If there is, then we’ll be able to help you get away before we book it for the cabin.”

That made it easy to ignore the shudder that went through him when the thing returned and rubbed against his legs like a cat. The instinct to reach down and touch shot through his system nearly erasing the fear long enough for him to follow through. He opened the door instead and got smacked in the face by sleet as the wind buffeted him from seemingly all sides.

Sam and Dean kept with him and went directly towards the storage compartments as he glanced under the camper. There were signs in the dirt that was quickly turning to mud of a scuffle and he looked back at the thing that vanished when he focused on it. It had sat in the muddy gravel at the foot of the camper door looking like a dog out of the corner of his eye but there was no impression in the gravel where it sat.

That thought got louder.

He turned away and hurried over to Sam and Dean. “All clear. Whatever it was booked it.”

“So it was something under the camper?” Sam asked, passing him a bag.

He shrugged, throwing it over a shoulder. “The ground’s all messed up from something.”

He took a second bag from Dean and started for the cabin as soon as the other closed the compartment door. Beckett met them at the front door, opening it wide for them. He passed them one of the bags he was carrying as Cole came up from the basement. “Any issues?” Cole inquired, as Dean managed to close the door as the three of them stayed in the entrance long enough to ditch slightly muddy and wet shoes.

“Other than some animal giving us a heart attack, no,” Sam answered, starting for the stairs to the loft.

Beckett looked between them, surprised. “What had happened?”

Dean shrugged as Artemis traded Beckett bags. “Something decided to have a brawl under the larger camper scaring the crap out of us.”

Beckett hugged their bag to their chest, eyes wide. “Do you know what it had been?”

“Raccoons, probably,” he supplied, following after Sam as he passed the bag he had first given Beckett to Cole. The man dipped his head in thanks. “Not sure, though. It was long gone by the time we got around to leaving the camper.”

Cole frowned. “At least you’re all safe. Lunch should be ready in a few minutes.”

Sam came barreling back down the stairs as he stepped onto the first step. He tucked himself against the wall to let her pass before continuing on, hearing her announce behind him, “Good, cuz I’m starving.”

Chatter filled the cabin but no one followed. No one, except for the shadow thing. He dropped his bag on his bed before turning, finding the creature standing on its hind legs between him and the stairs. In the different light, he could make out its large eyes as it blinked.

Everything was telling him to run away, to shout and scream and get someone’s attention to get him away but as he stood there staring, the creature crouched till it was sitting on the floor like a dog sitting waiting for its next command. A string of laughter drew his attention to the railing but the thing was still there when he looked back.

“What are you?” he tried, words cautious and low. The head rotated sideways like he had seen dogs do to interesting sounds. He frowned. “Can you speak?” The head moved as the eyes narrowed, the posture curling in on itself. He was reminded then of the screaming he had heard and the headache that was still pounding at his skull. “Right. Ok. How about in something I can understand.”

The thing blinked, settling back into a relaxed posture before it got up onto all fours and walked closer.

He flinched when the headache worsened but it faded quickly, leaving a very strange sensation behind. The creature could communicate but it wasn’t in a way that he naturally understood. Until he got used to seeing the creature, seeing the second plane, and start willingly listening, the best it could do was give him impressions.

The strangest thing was they weren’t thoughts. They weren’t coherent word thoughts. No voice spoke in his head. Instead it was like the creature had simply draped the information in his mind via impressions and emotions and in other ways he didn’t even understand enough to try and reason out. He stared at it, though if it was out of shock, awe, or terror, he wasn’t sure. “But why me?” His voice cracked on the last word. “Why not Beckett or Cole or Orlean?”

The headache got a bit worse before fading again.

This time he got a full memory, watching from the creature’s viewpoint as Beckett looked directly at it in the corner of the camper but having the understanding that Beckett couldn’t actually see it even if they could sense it somehow. A second memory followed, though, of the creature in the tent by the river standing over him but it wasn’t looking at him. Its gaze was towards the back of the tent where he knew the strange ranger had come from. This memory wasn’t as neatly packaged as the one of Beckett. Parts of it were black as if he had stood up too quickly or a dream was deteriorating but he could feel the creature’s concern, the distrust and desire to protect, to guard against whatever was coming.

The creature knew what had been coming but he didn’t receive that information.

“But why do you need to protect me?” he challenged, distraught.

The headache flared and took longer to fade this time.

He found himself in some hospital. The room he was in was sun washed orange and quiet. There was no sound of machinery, only the soft breath of the woman in the bed he was standing next to. He looked around, wondering what was going on till he caught sight of the baby in the incubator against the wall at the foot of the bed.

“Did you find one Dlmor?”

He jumped at the sudden voice and looked down at the woman in the bed. Her eyes were half lidded but she was smiling looking directly at him. Regret and grief filled his chest, suffocated him.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself saying. “I couldn’t-I tried but I couldn’t-”

She reached up cupping his cheek, shushing him gently. “It’s alright, Dlmor. It’s ok. You may be young but you’re strong. You’ll learn quickly enough.” She lowered her hand to her chest. “Will my memories of-” the word went in one ear and out the other- “be enough to bind you to him?”

“Not without harming the life you’ve created for yourself.”

“As long as he gets the chance to live a long life.”

That churned something in his chest and he reached out, covering her hand with his. “It will not be a normal life. He will be targeted.”

“But you can protect him. You can teach him when he can no longer be protected by you alone.”

Frustration bubbled up into the mix of emotions. “But you’re asking me to condemn your son to a life longer than any human lifespan faced with having to deal with those that will kill him on sight once they know what he has become.”

“Please, Dlmor. I’ve already lost enough children along the way. I can’t lose him now that he’s here, even if I never understand why things are so difficult for him.”

He caved. It was immediate and left him wondering if he had even been trying to fight her desire. No, he knew he hadn’t been. He was already ready to do as she asked but he had to be sure she was ok with it, that she knew the extent of what she was asking. He pressed his face against her neck, her cheek, rubbing up against her one last time. “I will miss you, Ellen.”

“Take good care of my Artemis for me.”

The cabin snapped back into place around him, the air freezing against his skin and dark compared to the warmly lit hospital room he had just been in. His head felt like it was splitting in two but he could think through it. Shoving himself upright was a painful experience but he looked at the thing, frowned at it. “That was…my mom? I don’t…I don’t understand.”

The sunlight had turned everything one color but he would have sworn he would have been able to recognize his own mom’s face but even trying to look back on the memory brought up nothing but more pain.

The creature placed its hands on his knees, startling him. It was warm compared to the rest of the room. There was a pause before it rested its forehead against his. He found himself pressing into the contact when the headache started to subside. The warmth was nice, too, but not having the headache was bliss.

There was a small flare as he gained the knowledge that Dlmor wasn’t going to talk to him again until the damage from the other had healed more. He nodded as the creature pulled away, looking expectantly into his face. “That’s fine. It’s fine. The questions can wait.”
The questions could wait. They had to. Dlmor’s weight and warmth remained on his knees as the creature’s form blinked out. At first he didn’t understand. As much as Dlmor had taken away most of the pain, it was like there was a fog in his brain and it wasn’t till he caught movement on the stairs that he understood.

Beckett came to a stop at the top, hand remaining on the railing. “Food’s ready,” they informed him. “Cole said not to bother you if you crashed so you don’t have to come down.”

Dlmor’s weight left his knees but he felt the bed dip to his right and Dlmor pressed into his back hard enough to shove him forward. He went with it, getting himself to his feet at Dlmor’s insistence. “No, food sounds good.”

Dlmor brushed up against his leg and stayed against it. Curiosity had him reaching down as he started for the stairs and found his fingers burying in warm fur at Dlmor’s shoulders. Despite the dark, ink appearing form, the fur was soft and fluffy radiating warmth under his still cold fingers. A thought drifted through his mind of how Dlmor walking at his side was like the service dogs he had seen in passing. It was an amusing thought in his foggy brain and it drifted out without leaving a trace behind.

“Hey, you alright?”

He blinked, looking up. Cole had a concerned look on his face and it took Artemis far too long to register the fact that he was sitting at the dining table with everyone else and a plate barely touched in front of him. Dlmor nudged his hand and he absentmindedly rubbed at the creature's head under the table. Several memories - many memories - drifted at the edge of the fog of the numerous dogs they always had in the home growing up, the labs and other large dogs, and the small handful of cats.

White teeth flashed near his wrist and he brought his thoughts back to the present. “Yeah,” he finally responded, offering a tired smile. “Just tired.” He pulled his hand from Dlmor’s head in order to start eating.

Cole’s hand rubbed at his shoulders. “Eat what you can and then go get some sleep. We’ll keep it quiet for ya.”

He shook his head, a laugh bubbling in his chest. “I think you guys could have an all out screaming war and I’m fairly certain I’d just sleep through it.”

Amusement flickered across Cole’s face. “If you’re sure.”

Dlmor nudged his elbow and he blinked, finding himself alone at the table. He could hear laughter coming from the bedroom Cole and Lora were staying in. Looking around revealed Dean, Sam, and Orlean were on the larger couch. Dean was using the armrest as a pillow, Sam sleeping on Dean with her head on his shoulder and her legs tangled with his on Orlean’s lap. Orlean had a book propped on the pair’s legs but he wasn’t reading it. Orlean had an arm propped on the back of the couch, chin resting on his palm as he talked quietly with Dean.

He pressed the heel of his hand into his left eye at the flare of pain behind his eyes. The view of his bed from the stairs filled his mind and he found words leaving his tongue. “Too far.”

Dlmor huffed and he felt the breath against his elbow before he caught Dlmor’s form shifted out of the corner of his eye as he dropped his hand from his face. Warm hands wrapped around his ribs and he found himself getting to his feet at Dlmor’s directing. He flinched from the brief flare of pain as Dlmor gave him a wordless apology. He could feel the guilt and regret under it. “You’re fine,” he countered quietly as he started for the stairs feeling weightless thanks to Dlmor taking most of his weight.

The bed taking his weight surprised him but the blanket that was pulled over him startled him. He turned sharply, a spike of fear shooting through him only to find Beckett standing over him. They offered him an apologetic, amused smile. “Came up for my laptop. Figured you could use a blanket if you were going to sleep on top of your covers.”

He sagged back into the mattress. “Thanks, Beckett. Hadn’t heard you come up.”

They grinned at him. “Yeah, that happens.” The expression fell a bit as concern replaced the amusement. “You sure you’re ok?”

He felt Dlmor crawl onto the bed behind him and lay down against his back. He watched as their gaze flickered to the space behind him but their expression didn’t stay. “Yeah, I’m sure. Just been a long day.”

They nodded. “That it has been. Lora’s working on getting Cole to crash for a nap too since he kept calling breakfast lunch. Not that any of us corrected him. Certainly been a busy enough morning that it felt like lunchtime.” They shook their head. “I’m going back down to keep her company. I think the only reason why Dean and Orlean are still up is because they’re still talking.”

He smiled at that. “I give them five more minutes before they’ve joined Sam in dreamland.”

Beckett chuckled at that. “Hopefully you’re in it before I make it to the bottom of the stairs.”

“Only one way to find out,” he teased.

Beckett grinned again. “Have a good nap.”

“Have fun going through your photos,” he genuinely responded as Beckett moved towards their things.

He closed his eyes but sleep didn’t take him immediately so he listened to Beckett going through their things trying to picture what they were doing based on the sounds. He knew their backpack had been on the side of the bed that faced his. The zipper on the large pocket ran smoothly as they pulled it open, rummaging through it. There was the sound of the zipper rubbing against the laptop case as they pulled it out. They tucked it into their lap and closed the zipper again. Beckett stood with a look towards his bed before starting towards the stairs. They glanced back with a confused frown on their face before they started down the stairs.

His eyes snapped open as the world shifted around him. He rolled over enough into Dlmor to look at the creature that had turned its head to look at him at his movement. It had settled so its chest was at his waist and its hindquarters were against his shoulders. He stared at it. "I saw through your eyes."

It lowered its head in a motion that spoke of guilt and regret.

"Why?"

Dlmor rested its chin on his hip, turning its head towards the stairs. There was a prick of pain as he found himself understanding that as long as they were touching - and something else he couldn’t quite understand with the fog in his head - it would just happen.

He stared at Dlmor. "Is it possible to do so from a distance?"

Dlmor raised its head, glaring at him. The prick of pain got worse but he got his answer anyways. It was but not in the state he was in nor without practicing. Dlmor's annoyance drifted in with the answer.

“Right,” he offered, apologizing. He reached out rubbing the top of Dlmor’s head. The creature pushed into the touch. “No talking till I’m better.”

Dlmor settled against him again, its head on his hip. He followed suit and settled back on his side, closing his eyes.

He knew he had dreamt something. Whatever it had been, he couldn’t remember, but when he was woken by Cole what was probably hours later, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all. In fact, it felt like he had been ridiculously busy and needed to sleep for three days straight. The loft space was dark despite the lights Cole must have turned on. “Hey. Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry.”

He didn’t feel hungry but he felt Dlmor get up behind him. Cole’s gaze flickered towards the creature but the lack of reaction told him Cole hadn’t seen anything. He saw Dlmor as the creature padded over to the stairs and sat down. The look sent his way was firm. “Ok, thanks.”

Cole stepped back to give him the room needed to get up but the other didn’t go much farther. “Artemis, are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah.” He stood, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back. “Why?”

“You’ve slept through the day. It’s going on 7.”

There was a pause as he did the mental math. He knew he had fallen asleep after breakfast but he couldn’t remember looking at a clock. A rough guess though put him at nine hours. He frowned, looking to Cole. “You guys let me sleep through lunch?”

“Lora said that when she woke you for lunch, you muttered something incoherent before rolling over and going back to sleep. She got you to wake up enough a second time to check your temperature but it was normal. You just really needed some sleep.”

He rubbed at his face. “Kind of feels like I still do.”

Cole gave his arm a squeeze. “Let’s get some food in you first, then you can sleep some more, ok?”

“Ok.”

He followed Cole towards the kitchen. The fog seemed to have receded but the headache was back as a low, steady roll of pain at the back of his head. As they approached Dlmor, the creature became visible on the edge of his vision for a second and he was surprised when he felt fur under his hand. He hadn’t realized he had reached out for it till Dlmor had walked under his hand, settling his hand in the fur at the back of its neck.

The world beyond the windows were dark but the light spilling out revealed a thick sheet of snow was blowing sideways. Almost all the lights in the cabin were on as if it would be enough to stave off the darkness. He felt the rumble of a growl under his fingers but a quick look around didn’t show him whatever it was Dlmor was growling at. The headache spiked as Dlmor pushed towards him indifference and patience, as if the creature was telling him to not worry about it. He carefully fisted a handful of fur as discretely as he could manage in an attempt to convey that the creature growling at anything made him uneasy.

Another spike in the headache came with a soft apology.

“Ey~. Welcome back to the waking world,” Dean called out from the table, drawing everyone’s attention to Cole and Artemis.

“Evening guys,” he offered in turn, letting the words pull a smile on his face. “Have a fun day without me?”

“Seeing as most of us slept, too,” Orlean informed him, “it’s been more of a lazy day than a fun day.”

He sat down in the chair that had become his somehow. He caught Dlmor slipping under the table at the edge of his vision to sit on his feet, leaning against his legs and resting its chin on his thigh. He placed a hand on its head. “Hey, lazy days aren’t a bad thing.”

“It’s what this week’s supposed to be,” Beckett added, grinning. “Even if we had originally planned a lot.”

Orlean raised the glass in his hand. “I’ll gladly take a lazy week at this point.”

“Same,” Dean and Sam chimed, Dean raising his own glass.

“What about you?” Lora asked him. She held his gaze when he looked. “Did you get some good rest? You’ve slept all day.”

He shrugged. “I feel like I could sleep for a good number of hours more.” He frowned, offering a bit of truth. “I’ve got a mild headache, too.”

Cole leaned forward in his seat. “Do you want anything for that? We’ve got drugs.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Eating something and drinking water will probably help. That and probably more sleep.”

There was a round of chuckles at his lame attempt at making a joke as Dlmor rubbed against his hand. Another spike of pain, another apology. He scratched at the top of its head with the hope that it understood he had no hard feelings over it. Shit happened and he could deal with a headache. The amount of sleep he apparently needed was alarming, though. Hopefully he would be fine come morning, that the damage would have healed by then.

He ignored the little idea that started at the back of his head; the damage wasn’t permanent. He would be fine.
By the end of dinner, the headache was excruciating. He must have looked bad because as the table was getting cleared and chatter of what the group was going to do next started up, Cole placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Do you need anything before I send you back to bed?”

He shook his head, ignoring the flare of pain it caused as best he could. “No. Thank you though.”

Cole nodded. “We’ll keep it as quiet as we can manage.”

Dlmor pressed against his leg as he started for the stairs. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his head and down his spine. The stairs looked daunting. He felt Dlmor leave his side only for the creature’s hands to wrap around his torso. The pain pulsed in time with his heartbeat but he would take that over it increasing with every step too.

The bed held no comfort when Dlmor laid him down. He curled in on himself, willing the pain to lessen. It wasn’t till Dlmor was pushing itself into the middle of his curled position that he realized it had turned off the lights. It was hard to tell if there was an increase of pain as he felt Dlmor’s comfort wrap around him. He pulled the creature close, curling around its head as its arms wrapped tightly around him. The warmth from Dlmor didn’t help the pain in his head but it eased some of the fear in his chest.

He wasn’t sure how long it was till he registered the noise he was hearing. It was like a static at the edge of his hearing and he let Dlmor go in order to cover his ears and block out the static sound. It wasn’t coming from an outside source. Or, at least, not all of it. He focused on the static he could hear with his hands over his ears and did so for as long as he could hold the position. It took a good while before his hands slipped from his ears, arms burning from the act of keeping other sounds out.

The sounds of the cabin were clearer. He could hear the edges of words from the first floor but he could make out the different voices with ease.

There was still static.

He frowned, sitting up. Dlmor didn’t move on its own and ended up on his lap with its arms still wrapped around him. He ran a hand over its back, looking around with a frown. There was something about the static that was important but the headache was making it hard to discern what was so important about it.

Scattered tones drifted through the static before he realized they were music notes.

Disbelief shot through him at the same time Dlmor growled.

Headache be damned, Artemis leapt off the bed. The grainy classical music was quiet on the static but very discernible now. Dlmor moved ahead of him down the stairs and into the silent living room, blinking out of sight before getting in anyone’s line of sight. Everyone was there, though all the blinds were now closed. Cole, Lora, and Beckett glanced in his direction while Orlean, Dean, and Sam kept their eyes on the door.

“To the master bedroom but keep the lights off,” Cole spoke out, his voice barely a whisper yet it carried well. “Be careful not to cast shadows on any of the windows along the way.”

“There’s no way it’s-” Sam started but she seemed unable to finish her sentence as the static filled classical music got clear enough to hear every note despite it being muffled by the building.

“Come on,” Orlean directed, reaching towards her and Dean. Dean was the one to grab his hand. The trio moved, quickly tailed by Beckett. Artemis moved to follow them towards the room Lora and Cole slept in but a hand closed around his shoulder. He looked back bewildered to find it had been Lora who had stopped him.

She wasn’t looking at him. “Go, Cole. Artemis and I will be right behind you guys.”

Cole frowned at her and he could make out concern, fear, and confusion on the other man’s face. “Are you sure?”

Her grip tightened on his shoulder. “Close the door and barricade it. You two will know when it’s us at the door.”

‘You two’? Who else was she talking about? For that matter, why were they not following the others. But Cole just nodded, accepting her words and seemingly trusting them for what they were. “Be careful you two.”

“We’ll do our best.”

Cole disappeared down the hallway leaving him alone with Lora.

He looked back at her bewildered, only to scramble out of her grasp and backpedal away from her. Dlmor pressed into his back and legs, stopping his retreat.

A hulking form made of shadow or ink was looming over Lora, its form very distinct and very imposing. He felt more than he heard Dlmor’s growl. The creature behind Lora didn’t respond but Lora did. She turned her gaze onto Dlmor and he felt the creature bristle more behind him. “I am not your enemy. Your enemy is outside taunting us.”

He flinched from the burst of pain in his head, digging the heel of a hand into his eye till it subsided. When it returned to the painful level it had been at, he blinked his vision clear only to find Lora’s gaze on him again. She was frowning and he didn’t like the combination of concern and dread barely masked by the determination on her face. “Artemis,” she spoke quietly, “did you hear any words?”

He got the impression that if there was any time to be blatantly honest, now was the time. “No. Dlmor has never been able to speak with me as I am with you now. There had been a hostile one in the camper. It had tried to attack me and Dlmor had moved to protect me. I’m not sure how but the scream one of them emitted left me with a raging headache. Dlmor’s been able to communicate with me some through some sort of memory transferring thing.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what else to call it.”

“That’s rather accurate, actually.”

“But it’s not a painless endeavor. I…” He frowned, not sure how to explain this one. “Dlmor showed me a memory that I ended up living, if that makes sense.”

She glared at Dlmor. “You may have caused permanent damage,” she snapped, the thing behind her shifting in her rage and letting out a deep, low rumble of a growl.

He placed himself in the line of sight, cutting the glare off and getting her attention on him. “I had asked, Lora. Not intentionally but I barely understand what’s going on and all Dlmor did was show me my mom tying it to me.”

Lora let out a sharp breath. “Still. The one with you is plenty old enough to know the risk of doing that to you when you haven’t received attention for the damage you had sustained in the camper.”

This time the spike of pain was tolerable - very unpleasant and messed with his vision but it wasn’t like a stabbing pain right through his brain. That or the headache had simply gotten that much worse while they had been talking.

Lora was frowning at Dlmor when he was able to focus on her again. Her gaze drifted to him. “Have you given the one with you a name yet?”

“Dlmor’s not its name?” he asked, bewildered.

Lora smiled gently. “When they are tied to a new being, they get new names.” She reached up and the creature behind her bent over enough to press its chin into her waiting palm. “This big one was called-” the name didn’t stick- “when I was first introduced to them. I now call them Belvren in honor of the one my mother had with her.”

He looked down at Dlmor. “Is Dlmor what my mom named you?” Dlmor shook its head, pressing into his hand. He barely noticed the flare of pain as he understood that his mom had asked Dlmor for a name to be called by. He looked to Lora. “Do I have to rename it?”

Lora frowned. “I-”

There was a pound on the door that made them both jump. Dlmor and Belvren let out growls, both looking at the door. The old radio playing classical music sounded like it was right against the door.

“I’m not sure for your case, Artemis,” Lora explained. “You’re not like any Walker I’ve been taught about or have met.”

“Walker?”

“That’s what you and I are; we walk between the First and Second Planes with Shadows as companions or guides, depending on our roles.” Confusion edged her expression. “At least, I am a Walker. I don’t actually know if you classify as one.” He caught Dlmor shaking its head no out of the corner of his eye. Lora turned her attention to the creature. “Do you know what he is called, then?”

Dlmor’s head lowered, shaking no again. He buried his fingers into Dlmor’s fur at the back of its neck. “What about Beckett and Cole?”

There was the sound of several sharp somethings being dragged down the front of the door. He moved to look back but gained a burst of pain as Dlmor vehemently told him to not look back.

“They are Sensitives as far as I can tell. Neither have a Shadow and neither of them can actually see anything of the Second Plane.”

There was a series of heavy pounding on the front door.

He wanted to asked what that meant, what being a Sensitive or a Walker meant, what any of this meant about him, but it had to wait. “Do you know what we’re up against, then?”

“Something Bound or we wouldn’t be talking.” Lora’s gaze moved from the door to him. “Something that doesn’t have company quite yet.”

“Then what do we do?”

Lora looked up at Belvren. “Have you done much fighting with your Shadow?”

“Outside Dlmor launching off my shoulders at whatever was attacking me? No.”

She glanced at the door before looking at him. “Then run interference towards the bedroom door.”

“You think it’s going to get in.”

There was the sound of splintering wood behind him.

“Oh, I know it will. Mostly because I know how large of a target you are, especially now that you’re starting to see.”

“Wait, you’ve known?”

She nodded. “I was raised to see the Second Plane and all its creatures. I knew your Shadow was following you but I hadn’t realized you were a Walker. You never acknowledged Belvren nor yours in any way that I could recognize so I just assumed you were Tied.”

“Why is this starting to sound like a lot of terms that have significance that I’m missing?”

She laughed softly at that, an equally soft smile on her face. “Because there is significance to a number of these terms. I can’t use their actual labels. You won’t be able to understand them.”

There was a louder sound of splintering wood. He flinched forward from it, going with Dlmor pressing against his back getting him to huddle close to the floor. Biting wind slipped around Dlmor and clawed at him. Something large moved over his head and he glanced up to see Belvren had left Lora’s presence. Dlmor pressed several paws into his back and the contact points had him feeling the growl that the creature let out.

Watching Lora without being able to see what was going on behind him was intense. She didn’t move but some sort of remnant of Belvren had stayed behind. It formed into a bow in the air before her and she grasped it. As she drew the string back, an arrow formed already nocked.

Pain flared in his head but he suffered through it, desperate for whatever Dlmor was sharing with him. The plan was simple. He could follow it easily enough.

The instant she let the arrow go and it flew over his head, Dlmor moved off his back. He was up on his feet moving as soon as the creature’s weight was off his back. It was hard not to look at whatever was in the doorway till he was standing just ahead of the hallway entrance.

“Disgusting,” cut through the room on a voice he didn’t recognize.

Belvren hit the ground hard and the Shadow lost its shape. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to describe how Belvren lost its shape. It was like watching a shadow mimic thick ink splattering while not actually splattering and even that seemed inadequate. What counted as Belvren now gathered into a small shape before returning to Lora, slowly reshaping.

Dlmor’s shape shifted, growing larger than he had ever seen it. It took on a shape that walked on all fours and had a long, powerful looking tail. Nasty looking claws dug into the floor as it let out a low growl.

“You can try and intimidate me all you want,” the new voice drawled. “It will not work.”
“You are nothing more than a child playing pretend.”

Dlmor’s launched itself at the stranger, giving him the chance to see who they were up against. The stranger looked human, though whether or not it was the same face as the ranger he couldn’t remember. But instead of the ranger’s uniform, the man looked ready to tackle temperatures far colder than what they were now. He watched as the man didn’t even look at Dlmor before the creature was thrown aside by something he couldn’t see. Dlmor collided with Belvren. The other Shadow absorbed the impact, barely moving backwards from it.

Lora let off another arrow. It shattered against something he couldn’t see. Belvren snarled at the something, or so he assumed, because whatever the others were seeing, he couldn’t see it.

Something grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. He choked on a cry for help. It wouldn’t have done him much good. Lora was raised into the air shortly after he was and with how she was gripping at the air around her neck, she was in a very similar predicament to his own.

“Children, the whole lot of you.” The stranger brushed off his coat as if something had gotten on it, stepping farther into the cabin. “Now that we have put everyone in their time out corners, let’s talk business, shall we?”

“Why did you follow us?” Lora ground out.

The stranger laughed. It agitated the headache he had. “If you have to ask, then you have no idea what is in your possession, Walker. What you keep as company is something far more valuable than you could ever dream.”

“You can’t have him.”

The stranger laughed again. “You think you can stop me? You, a lowly Walker, stopping someone of my caliber? Please. You’ll be just as successful as your pet was.” The stranger looked at him. “He can’t even see the Second Plane despite what he is. You will have no aid from him either.”

The thing around his neck tightened. He choked as panic shot through his core. He didn’t understand, didn’t know what was going on, and the pressure on his neck was making his headache feel like his skull was coming apart with every beat of his pulse.

The pressure vanished.

His eyes snapped open as he fell a few inches. Dlmor had claws buried in a creature that he didn’t recognize, didn’t understand. The creature screamed. It shot pain through his head and he lost his ability to see. Something strong, solid, and warm wrapped around his torso. It kept him upright as he fought to get his sight back and his legs back under him. His vision cleared enough to catch Dlmor tearing the creature down and tearing into it. The other creature lost its form but Dlmor didn’t stop. Its teeth sank into what should have been floor and tore out a glowing object. It shattered as Dlmor chomped down on it.

Two other creatures launched themselves at Dlmor. Panic filled him but Dlmor was far more prepared for this than he was. The creature got low to the ground like a panther on the prowl. In a flash, the tail separated, leaving him supported by a piece of Dlmor as the creature collided with the other two. The one in Dlmor’s right claws lost its form immediately as the one in its left let out a furious scream. Dlmor ignored the creature that had lost its form, going for the one still in its left claws. The other creature returned the attack and he lost track of the forms in their flurry of attacks.

The piece of Dlmor holding him up slowly started to sink to the floor. He got his feet under him as he watched what had been around him give up its shape and splatter to the floor. It didn’t move, didn’t go rejoin the rest of Dlmor like he had expected it to. Instead it stayed there like an ink stain on the hardwood floor.

He glanced over at Lora.

She was still hanging in the air by her throat but he could see the other creature now. It had also pinned Belvren but he couldn’t tell what the creature was doing to Lora’s Shadow.

There had to be something he could do, anything to help her and her Shadow. He looked back at the black on the floor and thought of Lora’s bow. Could he make the same thing? Or could he make something better?

What about simpler?

His head gave a painful throb as he bent over.

He dragged his hand through the substance. It behaved like a thick liquid and as he pulled his hand up out of it, the substance stayed in his hand and stretched from source to his hand. Blackness swam at the edge of his vision but he was determined to help. All he could see, all he could focus on was the creature’s head. As he pulled his hand back to throw what was in his hand, a glint drew his gaze. It wasn’t quite at the creature’s center but it drew his focus. He fought to keep upright, to keep his focus on that one spot. He had to hit it-no. He had to pierce it, make it shatter like Dlmor had done with the one that had lost its form. If he could shatter it, then that would be one less creature.

As the blackness threatened to fill his vision completely, he threw the thing in his hand with all his might.

A wretched scream tore through his head.

There was no way of tracking time as he drifted in nothing.

There were no real thoughts as he drifted through that nothing. Only the enjoyment of the lack of pain.

Except, he couldn’t quite remember why he should be relieved to not be feeling pain. Had he been in pain? Why? What had happened?

Did he actually want to know the answers? Surely knowing the answers would bring the pain back and if he was in this much bliss without it, surely he didn’t want to return.

No, there was something important he was forgetting, something he had been trying to do before he ended up in the nothing.

But surely if it was something so terribly important, he would remember. Right?

Pain flared in his shoulder, agitating the pulsing agony in his head. He cried out from it, curling around his shoulder.

His hand closed around a mass protruding from his shoulder and his eyes snapped open.

Dlmor yanked the claw from his shoulder. There was no physical damage but it hurt as if the creature had actually punctured his shoulder. A flicker of the camper when he had been talking with Beckett popped into his head as he pushed himself to his feet.

How he managed to stay standing was beyond him. The entire world spun sharply to the left and the pain in his head only worsened, surprising him. It was already unbearable. How could it get worse?!

He didn’t the chance to ponder it for long.

Dlmor’s tail wrapped securely around his chest and yanked him out of the way of an attack he had been too distracted to see coming. His feet skid on the floor as he rotated in Dlmor’s hold to face the coming threat. It was like instinct drove his hand to pull at Dlmor’s tail, pulling some of the creature’s form from the main form. It formed in his hand into something straight and pointed. He didn’t focus on it enough to know what it was as Dlmor’s tail fell away from him. The two creatures collided and he drew his hand back.

He staggered sideways when his balance didn’t hold. A snarl pulled itself from his throat and he planted his feet in what he hoped was a more stable stance. He reeled back again and held it long enough for Dlmor to move out of the way.

For the blink of a second it was in the air, dread shot through him. His aim was off. He was going to miss.

Dlmor made sure it hit right with a solid shove at the creature.

The scream had him on his hands and knees with vision that took its sweet time to return.

A hand - a very human hand - wrapped around his throat and hauled him to his feet. The world spun dangerously to the right and he lost the strength in his legs from it. “You,” the man snarled in his face, “are a slippery one and I’m done playing games.”

There was a solid thud off behind him as he watched Dlmor get pinned by two new creatures. The man glared at the two new creatures. “Make sure it comes with without leaving any permanent damage. And so help me, if you let this one escape, I will gladly end you both myself.”

The two creatures didn’t respond but they snared Dlmor. The stranger looked at him again. “It seems you and I have a lot of work to do.”

Darkness spiraled out from under the stranger before exploding across the floor, up the walls, and converging at the ceiling. There was no cabin, no Lora, no Belvren. He couldn’t even see Dlmor. The only thing in that darkness was him and this stranger.

“It’s time you became what you are supposed to be, Ylmra.”

The darkness shattered and he barely had time to react to the blinding light before his head felt like it exploded. Nausea rolled through him, thick and hot like the air that slammed into him. The hand holding him up moved. For a moment he thought it was because the man was forcing him onto his own two feet but then an arm and blessed darkness wrapped around him. It took far too long before he realized that his face was against this stranger’s chest.

He really ought to have shoved the man away, made some move to get back to Dlmor and then back to the others, but the thought of dying by light exposure wasn’t overly pleasant.

“How much damage have you taken?” the man demanded, though the tone sounded more disbelieving than irritated. The man shifted, words suddenly not directed at him. “And you’re going to tell me you did everything you could to make sure he wasn’t injured.”

There was a spike of pain but it didn’t last.

“Of course you had. And now he’s suffered who knows how much brain damage and I have to fix it.”

Anger finally made its way through his system and he shoved at the man. He didn’t get very far, the man’s coat and arm still snuggly around him. Still, he snapped back, “Hey, I never asked for you to come get me, thank you very much. Let alone scare the shit out of my friends and me.”

“You seem to be under the misconception that I care,” the man countered.

“Well, clearly you care enough to keep me sheltered from the light.”

The coat and arm vanished; his body reacted immediately. He couldn’t see, could barely feel anything beyond the prickling of strength leaving him. He wasn’t sure if he was standing or lying on the ground. The roll of nausea was so strong, he wanted nothing more to just puke and get it over with.

The coat returned but the arm didn’t.

“And that is why I am keeping you in the dark,” the man pointed out. “You are of no use when exposed like that and I will not carry you.”

“Pity,” he ground out, feeling coarse sand beneath his hands and arms. He rubbed at the itch on his forehead and felt sand fall from it. He frowned. “Where the hell are we, anyways? The desert?”

“Close in there to,” the man confirmed.

He bolted upright, momentarily forgetting the headache. “What?!”

The coat went flying off his person and the light smacked into him as sharply as the heat of the land did.
He didn’t even get the chance to react to his stupid decision before the coat was shoved back over his head.

“Idiot.” He huddled down waiting for the nausea to settle and the headache to ease. He heard the stranger shift in the sand. The man snapped, “If he so much as get a speck of vomit on that jacket, I will skin you alive for a new one. I expect you to help him along. We have places to be.” There was a noise and his headache flared. “Do not give me that bullshit. You are very much capable of doing far more and you know it.” Another flare as the noise fluctuated. “If you so much as breathe the thought of my sister, I will end you, consequences be damned. Because of you my sister doesn’t even know who I am.” The noise again. He frowned. It sounded almost confused. “You took away every memory she had of the Second Plane! I have always been tied to it and you ripped those memories from her just to turn her son into a Ylmra!” There was a break, as if the stranger was reeling from the words that had escaped. The words the stranger added were stilted. “The only reason why I’m even here is because she made me promise to help her child if she ever had to follow through with that stupid plan of hers. And now that he’s finally becoming a proper Ylmra, I have no choice but to be here dealing with children.”

He sat up the best he could without causing light to peak under the hem of the coat, confused. “So, you’re, what? My uncle?” Silence met his question and it only made him think of more questions. “But why kidnap me? Why torture me and my friends with the freaky classical music?”

“Yu…” the stranger started but the word cut off at the beginning. “What classical music?”

“There was classical music when you came to the door. Everyone heard it.” He frowned, even if the man couldn’t see it. “Weren’t you the ranger, too?”

“Ranger? What are you talking about?”

“There was some weird ranger that came by while we were camping by the river that had classical music playing on an old radio. Creeped all of us out but got us to prep for the snow storm.”

Sand sliding over itself drifted under the coat. The man’s voice seemed closer with a harsh, “The only time I have ever interacted with you or that Walker was in the room I took you from. Whatever you or the others had heard had nothing to do with me.”

“But the classical music-”

“Will you get him up and moving already?” the stranger barked, startling him. The volume changed as the stranger walked off. “I was not joking when I said we had to be places.”

He waited, listening to the stranger walk off. After a moment, there was a tug on the coat and he pulled it off his head carefully.

It was like he was wearing tinted contacts. The glaring light of the midday sun - which threw him for a loop since it had been well into the night when the stranger had first shown up - was muted, diminished for him and him alone. He was sitting on the side of a dune that the stranger was now walking the ridge of. He got to his feet, each step sinking into the loose sand as he tried to get purchase enough to get up to the ridge.

The thought of where Dlmor went came at the same time as something wrapping around his chest, taking his weight. He looked at his torso only to see odd warping. The footprints beyond, though, were enough for him to clue in. Somehow Dlmor had wrapped itself around him as if the creature was nothing more than an exosuit now. It seriously weirded him out and he flinched from the headache he got when Dlmor sent him just how annoyed it was at that thought. With the annoyance came the understanding that Dlmor and the others like it didn’t really have a body in the same way humans did. It was more like Dlmor had simply flattened itself out before wrapping around him, supporting him and suppressing as much light as was possible without smothering him or hindering his sight.

“This is intense,” he commented, even if his head felt like it was being pulled apart rhythmically with his heartbeat. With Dlmor’s help, he caught up to the stranger easily and went back to his original question. “So you’re the uncle I never knew about?”

The stranger sighed, though he wasn’t sure if it was out of defeat or annoyance. “Yes, I am. Unfortunately. I am your mother’s older brother that she doesn’t remember thanks to that one.”

He assumed the glare over his head was directed at Dlmor. “Why doesn’t she remember you?”

The man looked back down at him before looking ahead. “Because she lost all memories tied to something specific. I never learned what it was but everything associated with the Second Plane was gone from her mind overnight. And unfortunately that meant any memories of me.”

“How? Wouldn’t she have grown up with you around?”

He gained a disgruntled glare. “There’s about the same age difference between me and her as there is between you and your own sister. By the time she was able to walk I was already out of the home.” The stranger shrugged. “Moreover, I was never really “home” to begin with. I’ve lived in the Second Plane since the day I could walk.”

“Why?”

This time the glare was sharper, more searching than the last. “And why, pray tell, are you so interested in me?”

He gave the older man a flat look. “We’re going to who knows where which could be who knows how far away through what I am assuming is mostly desert terrain with a splitting headache on my end and you’re expecting me to keep myself entertained without your help?” He gave a short laugh and suffered through the increase of pain from it. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

“The likelihood of you remembering any of this, then?” the man asked instead.

“Depends on how serious the damage was.” He frowned. “Is.” He shrugged. “At this point, I’m expecting some of it to stick but seeing as I’m currently following you of my own volition and without much hesitation, I expect I’ve lost some of my sanity along the way and thus not holding my breath over it.”

“You are more than welcome to try and leave but since I am probably correct in assuming this is your first time here, you won’t know how to leave.”

He gave the man a flat look. “Second Plane or whatever, then.”

“Correct.”

He rolled his eyes. “At this point, I’m not surprised. Why the hell did you kidnap me anyways? What was the point? From what I’ve come to understand thus far is that I’m a hot commodity for those of the Second Plane.” He narrowed his eyes at the man, challenging, “You’re not about to sell me as a slave or the like, are you?”

The man looked horrified by the thought. “What would make you think that?”

He felt like it was obvious. “I don’t know what a Ylmra is so I’m missing the vital “this is why you’ll be hunted for the rest of your life” information that makes that sentence even remotely make sense.”

“A Ylmra is a being that does not occur very often due to the circumstances for which one is created in.” He met the man’s gaze steadily when it landed on him. “Just as your status of Ylmra was given to you by your mother paying the price, my status of Ylmra was given to me by my mother paying the price. But unlike my sister who managed to come out of said bargain alive,” there was another glare sent to Dlmor, “she unfortunately ended up passing away shortly after Ellen was born. I never learned what the price had been to create me but whatever it had been had been enough to make it an absolute binding. That-” a pointed jab at Dlmor- “should not be separate from you. You two are supposed to be one being, not two.”

“So something went wrong, then?”

The man didn’t answer right away. “No. At least, not when it comes to being a Ylmra. You are still Ylmra, even with the seemingly incomplete bond.” There was a burst of pain from his headache as Dlmor growled. The man scoffed. “I do not doubt you did as you were supposed to. In fact, I would put it more on him, than you, Dlmor. Your kind are very well versed in that.”

Dlmor settling around him again was a strange sensation. At least the creature wasn’t about ready to pick a fight. “So why did you kidnap me? Outside of mom having apparently asked you to keep an eye on me.”

“Ylmra - especially inexperienced ones - are the most sought after kills of the Second Plane.” A shudder went down his spine. He happily suffered the spike in his headache if it meant he got Dlmor’s protectiveness, calm, and comfort to counteract the statement. Or maybe it was more for the thought that popped into his head at the other man’s words. “I kidnapped you for two reasons: a test of your companions, and a show for those that could have been watching. Less likely for something to pursue you now, now that I’ve gotten my hands on you.”

“You that much of a threat or are they going to assume you killed me yourself?”

The man raised an eyebrow at him and continued on. The lack of an answer was answer enough. “I will admit, I was impressed with that Walker’s perseverance. I would have liked to have seen how the others had reacted but I’m sure we’ll see that when you get back.”

“And when will I be going back?”

The man stopped, gaze settling on him. “Well, that depends on how much of this is natural to you and how quickly you can learn the rest. Ellen asked me to make sure you could protect yourself, that you knew all I know about being Ylmra. But it is not something that is easily taught, nor retained, and a lot of what I know was from experience. I was not so lucky as you are to have a guide in this so I expect you to keep that in mind.”

He nodded. And then he asked, “So how long has it been since you’ve interacted with another human being because I feel like you’ve got some assumptions about me that are so not accurate.”

He wasn’t even sure if there was a blow to be felt but from one instance to the next he went from standing on top of the sand dune to being thrown off of it. Panic clamped around his chest as he slowly rotated in the air. The ground started to come up to meet him far faster than he would have liked.

For whatever reason, the first thought that popped into his head was needing a parachute, something - anything - that would slow his decent significantly. Dlmor’s form shifted around him, a vice grip around his torso but gentle around his head and neck, supporting both as his torso was jerked backwards and his descent slowed immensely. Dlmor must of either ran with his thought or had picked up more than he himself had been aware of; massive wings curled forward in sharp beats, curling the air around him and gaining enough traction that his feet settled into the sand softer than if he had simply stepped off of a platform.

His knees gave out when Dlmor sagged into him, enveloping him as best the creature could. Whatever Dlmor had just managed, it clearly had taken its toll on the creature.

Slow clapping drifted towards him. He looked towards the source of the sound and found the stranger a dune away clapping, a pleased smile on that smug face.
“Well done,” the man mock praised. “An excellent show of ingenuity and reflex.” An impression started to trail from the top of the man’s dune, curling around the front face sending sand cascading down the slope. He watched it unsure if he wanted to know what kind of creature was doing that. He thought of snake at first but the impression in the sand was so large, he could lie down perpendicular to the impression left behind and fit within it with ease. “Now let’s see how well you hold your own against something you should see.”

His headache flared but he thought he heard a hiss and the thought of snake didn’t seem so wild anymore. Dlmor yanked him sideways as an invisible force impacted with the sand. A startled cry escaped his throat at the sudden change of direction. Ir died quickly as Dlmor’s actions had him keeping the point of impact in sight. The sand shifted about for a stretch before settling. His feet hit the side of a dune and the force knocked his knees out. He found his gaze on the sand beneath his hand before it snapped up to the point of impact.

“It’s burrowed into the sand.” He stood up. “We need to get into the air. Now!”

Dlmor’s form shifted around him before yanking him skyward.

The sand beneath his feet exploded as they gained altitude. Despite not being able to see what was coming after him, he knew it was headed straight for them. Dlmor’s form melded into a new one mid flight and solid legs kicked into the invisible creature after them. Or maybe it was just invisible to him. If it was, that meant he had to rely on Dlmor knowing where it was when it wasn’t on or in the sand.

Dlmor banked left hard, leaving Artemis’s stomach behind. He clung to the part of Dlmor still wrapped around his torso till the sensation went away. Dlmor’s change of angle put them in line to landing on the man’s dune. He glanced back to see the sand shifting. He couldn’t tell if it was because the creature was burrowing again or something else. “Better land quick.”

The dune was a good drop beneath him when Dlmor jerked to the left, dropping him. The piece around his eyes held tight, separating from Dlmor’s shape. He landed heavily in the sand but managed to fall forward into the sand rather than backwards down the slope. He scrambled to the top of the dune, demanding, “I thought we were in a hurry! The hell!”

“We are in a hurry,” the man drawled, annoyed. “However, my tolerance level for impotent children seems to be nonexistent now.”

“A chi-I’m 23!”

“And very much a child to me!” the man snapped. “In every aspect of the way. So unless you start acting your age, we are going to be at each other’s throats more often than not.”

“Aren’t old people not supposed to get so petty?”

He deserved that smack. And it wasn’t a simple back hand smack to the cheek. No. This was some massive creature’s whose entire back hand was the same size as his torso. He was smacked off the dune by a weaker force this time. He was suspended in the air for a brief second or two before gravity grabbed him and he hit the side of the dune, rolling down the slope in an uncontrolled sprawl.

He came to at the bottom of it with his head pounding too much for him to even try and move.

“Are you quite done now?” the man asked. He opened an eye to find the man had joined him at the bottom of the dune. Dlmor was pinned to the side of it by a very massive snake.

“I can’t promise anything,” he informed the man.

The man rolled his eyes. “You are insufferable. Why I am even doing this is beyond me. Get up. We will keep going.”

The man flicked a wrist towards the two creatures in the sand freed Dlmor from the snake’s coils. The creature was around him before he could even contemplate how he was going to get up. The spike barely registered as Dlmor offered to move him. He frowned. “You’re not doing any better than I am, though.” He noticed the second spike and rolled his eyes. “You do realize I can feel how heavy you are right now, right?”

There was a huff of a mock breath - he was fairly certain Dlmor didn’t need to breathe - as the creature got him to his feet as if the action alone would be enough to prove him wrong. He tried to will the world to stop moving without him. Dlmor’s weight was to be expected. “Come on,” he encouraged. “Best to just catch up with him and get moving again.”

Dlmor moved and he moved with but there wasn’t much support from the creature. It was more like he was wearing armor than carrying along a shape shifting creature.

The trip back up the dune was the worst. By the time they made it to the top, the man had been there for quite some time just watching them. The man let out a sharp breath. “Ridiculous.”

The snake creature slithered over and from one moment to the next, he found himself straddling the snake’s back. The man was behind him, a hand fisted in the back of his shirt to keep him steady. Dlmor slipped from around him and he flinched from the sudden brightness. “Honestly.” The man’s coat wrapped around his head again. The man’s arm crossed his chest. “Do not let your creature fall off. I will not help it nor you if you do.”

Dlmor’s warm weight pressed into his stomach and he wrapped his arms around the creature as best he could. The snake creature lurched under him. The sound of rapidly shifting sand quickly filled the air, blocking out any other noises.
He didn’t remember passing out. He must have because he wasn’t on the back of the snake creature anymore. Instead he was lying in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room. The room was dimly lit from the sunlight that was making it through the curtains. Other than the bed, there was a dresser, a table, and a chair. The chair was situated at the bedside unoccupied. He could hear movement beyond the closed door, the soft chatter of voices always fluctuating, but nothing ever got clear enough for him to discern anything important.

There was a lull in sound and he nearly drifted off again before the click of the door brought him back. He opened his eyes to see the man entering the room dressed in a simpler outfit than what he had been wearing when he kidnapped Artemis. His gaze drifted over the winged serpent loosely draped around the man’s neck, the green and blue scales a beautiful backing of rainbow colored wings. “Oh good,” the man spoke, voice a low rumble that was barely louder than a whisper. “Finally awake I see.”

“How long was I out?” he asked. There was the thought of moving, of waking up more properly, but exhaustion settled more completely on his bones from it.

“Almost three days.”

Despite the exhaustion, his expression showed his shock. “Wh...what? How?”

The man shrugged, taking up the chair beside his bed. “Part of it was your body naturally keeping you out of it so that you could heal properly.” The man stirred whatever was in the bowl in his hand. “Part of it was from the medicine that got shoved down your throat upon arrival. And each morning since.”

“Medicine you made?” he asked, eyeing the bowl warily.

The man snorted. “Divine, no. I have many skills and knowledge that covers many areas of study but the best I can do in medicine is basic first aid. The healers have been tending to you since we arrived and it will remain that way until you are discharged.”

“Which is when?”

“Depends. They were waiting on you to wake before making the decision.” The man met his gaze. “How are you feeling? You haven’t made a move to sit up yet, of which is surprising.”

An amused smile pulled at his lips. “Unfortunately with a clearer head, I don’t pull quite so many stupid stunts.” He gained a snort for the quip. “Truthfully, though, I’m exhausted. I don’t even know if I would be able to get myself up if I had wanted to. Part of me doesn’t want to try. At the moment, my head isn’t killing me and I want it to stay that way.”

The man set the bowl on the table. “You don’t have a headache?”

He barely stopped the instinct to shake his head, stopping the motion halfway through. “No. Not at the moment. Nor the fog that was there when Dlmor cleared my head of the pain sometime after the initial injury.”

The man pointed at the winged serpent, the serpent’s yellow eyes on him. “Can you see Trevak?”

“Yes,” he offered, letting his confusion draw the word out.

“Describe what you see.”

He raised an eyebrow at that before moving his gaze to the serpent once more. “Green and blue scales, rainbow wings, a winged serpent that’s loosely draped around your neck that’s staring at me intently.” He met the man’s gaze again. “Why?”

“What of the Dlmor?”

The confusion filled his expression and he turned his head to look at where the man had gestured. Dlmor was perched on the dresser next to the door sitting like a kid would on the kitchen counter, legs swinging lazily as hands rested on the dresser’s edge between its knees. Dlmor met his gaze and all he could do was stare.

Gone was the shadow, ink form. Gone were the eyes that had been the same color as the rest of it. Instead, Dlmor looked like the night sky. Those large eyes were more blue than the soft fur on Dlmor’s body while still maintaining enough of the black for it to take a moment for him to pick out the creature’s pupils. The nearly black blue fur seemed to be covered in fine rainbow glitter, though the most prominent color was silver, but he couldn’t tell what caused it from that distance. It was like looking at someone’s take on the night sky turned into substance. Dlmor’s head tipped to the side, long ears he had never noticed - or hadn’t seen - moving in a way that was very expressive, giving the creature an inquisitive look. Those dark blue eyes bore into him, searching, waiting.

“It doesn’t look like ink, or shadow,” he found himself answering. He struggled to pull his gaze away and look back at the man. “Dlmor looks like the night sky.”

The man’s curiosity colored his expression. “You saw it as ink?”

“Or shadow.” He made a face. “I’m not sure I can explain it properly. Dlmor’s shape was there but it looked like it was ink and shadow.”

“Interesting.”

“I take it that’s not normal?”

The man shrugged. “Normal or not, you’re anything but normal so I doubt it matters. What does matter is that you are finally seeing the Second Plane properly.”

“Shadows and invisible creatures wasn’t, then?”

A vicious grin spread across the other man’s face. “Not in the slightest. Some of the creatures can turn themselves invisible or fake it well enough but none are inherently invisible. Though I am curious: did any creature you see from the Second Plane look the same?”

“If you mean shadow and ink, yes, but shapes varied. Which, since Dlmor can adjust its shape, I figured that was normal.”

“Dlmor and Belvren adjust their shapes more drastically than others. Trevak, for example, can increase or decrease its size at will and can limit that change to a specific part of its body without hindering or harming itself. Belvren are similar, though they change more in bulk and raw strength than actual size. That Walker’s Belvren is not always that hulking huge, I guarantee it.”

He frowned. “You say their names as if that’s what they are.”

The man raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s because it is. That is their type of creature. Dlmor, Belvren, Kret. Cyor, Jaun - when used as a name, they are all the equivalent of calling a cat “Cat”, a dog “Dog”, and so on.”

“Do they have their own names or do we give them those?”

“Well, that depends on the creature.” The man stood up, brushing his pants off. “Most will not name themselves for they do not interact and converse as humans do, but some have interacted with humans enough or in the right ways to obtain, gain, or give themselves a proper name. But that is a conversation for another time.” The man got close to the edge of the bed, looking down at him. “I am going to help you sit up so that you can eat. I want you to tell me if at any point you feel any pain, regardless of what kind of pain it is. Understood?”

He nodded.

He had braced for pain but very little came. In fact, the only pain he got out of the whole endeavor was the tension of muscles that had been too tight for too long. The man’s touch was sure and strong but there was a gentleness to it that spoke of a kindness that was more of the man’s true nature than the entire interaction up to this point.

“Thank you,” he offered as he took the bowl from the man. “Where are we anyways?”

“Ilmor Outpost. One of several settlements in the Second Plane. I have been here for nearly five years now.”

“So you don’t actually live alone?” The bowl contained some sort of soup. It was thick and full of things. He thought he recognized a few of the ingredients.

The man huffed a laugh at that. “Oh, I live alone. No one else comes in or out of my quarters and I do not spend my free time with any specific soul, but yes, the outpost is a hive of activity outside my quarters.”

The soup was some version of potato soup. It was hardy in the sense that it was thick and had quite a bit in it but the flavor wasn’t overly strong, which he assumed was a good thing. “So why are we here? Why at an outpost and not a private home.”

“It seems you have some misconceptions about my character.” He wondered if the man was deliberately using his own words against him. Probably. “Many hands make light work and despite others arguing the matter, humans are naturally communal animals. We thrive off of community and companionship even if some are “introverts” and other “extroverts”. I would not have been able to come after you let alone follow through with my sister’s request had I chosen to remain isolated simply because I did not care for other humans.”

“Is everyone a Ylmra?”

“No. A large amount are but there are other classifications living here and at the other locations.”

He stilled with the spoon in the soup. “What changed?”

“Pardon?”

He met the man’s gaze. “You’re answering my questions and being rather pleasant about it. I half remember most of our interaction but I know I wasn’t the easiest piece of shit to deal with. Additionally, you had been short and touchy about all my questioning. What changed?”

“Ah, that.” The man looked away. He couldn’t make out the emotions poorly masked on the man’s face from the new angle. “Nothing. I have had time to go over what I would and would not share with you and so far we have not touched any topics that edge anywhere near such limits.”

“Is knowing your name a limit?” The man looked at him surprised. He shrugged. “You kidnapped me and have now tended to me. I haven’t decided yet if you’re an alley yet but at least you’re not actively trying to kill me so it seemed only fair that I know your name since you already know my life history.”

There was a stretch of time where the man simply stared at him and he wasn’t sure if it was out of shock or a silent debate on whether or not to lie. He went back to eating as he waited.

“Elias.” He looked up at the man. “You can call me Elias.”

He wondered if that was the man’s actual name or just an alias. He tucked the spoon back into the bowl before offering his hand to shake. “Artemis.”

The man reached out and shook his hand. He went back to eating as soon as they were done. The silence that settled was brief. “You really are a different person than what I had met three days ago.”

“Equal parts pain and exhaustion at that point, I believe.” He looked at the man again. “But, then, so are you. You are not as harsh as you had been.”

“Yes, well.” The man’s gaze moved to Dlmor as the creature hopped down from the dresser on to the bed on all fours. It curled up against Artemis’s left hip bookending Artemis between the creature and Elias. The man returned his gaze to Artemis. “Before much more happens, I want to lay down some rules.” He lowered the half full bowl to his lap. “Do not go wandering off. Do not speak of how we are related. And do not speak of my difference in character with anyone. You will do as I say for anything I tell you to do from this point on will be both for your safety and education. Is that understood?”

“Yes, but I have a question.” The man gestured for him to ask it. “When will you take me back to my friends? Three days is a long time to not hear from me.”
“I expect we will be seeing them before the week is out. However, that is not anything I can set in stone. It will solely depend on how things progress over the next few days.”

A knock interrupted anything else the man had to say. Elias stood. Artemis idly stirred what remained in his bowl watching as the man crossed to the door and opened it.

There was a man on the other side, strong, tall, and who grinned a brilliantly bright smile when the two older men’s eyes met. “Thought I would find you here. Cass sent me down with this for you.” The man gestured with the bundle in his hand. Artemis wasn’t sure if it was a thin book or a stack of paper. Elias took it, flipping through the pages as the man continued, “How’s our newest guest?”

“Awake so you’re welcome to ask him yourself,” Elias offered, voice cordial and expression soft as he took a step out of the way before actually crossing to the chair.

The stranger at the door stepped in enough to close the door before smiling gently at Artemis. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” he replied politely.

“Elias been treating you well?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man laughed, startling him. He glanced at Elias but the man was busy reading. “You don’t have to be so formal. Name’s Tolnoran but you can call me Torra. Everyone does.”

“A misconception,” Elias piped in, turning a page. “There are some that scream expletives when they see you, Tolnoran.”

Tolnoran gave an embarrassed laughed. There was a flicker of something that looked an awful lot like sadness to Artemis at the edge of the man’s expression. “”Eli. The young man doesn’t need to know that.”

Elias closed the stack of pages around a finger as he looked up at Tolnoran. “He will learn it regardless of whether he is told now or not and you know it as well as I do.” Tolnoran’s expression noticeably fell at that and Elias sighed, gentle amusement coloring his expression. “Do not give me that look. I know you find immense joy at hearing a few of the expletives.”

Tolnoran’s expression relaxed, turning thoughtful even. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

This time Elias let out a huff of a laugh. “Honestly.” Artemis met Elias’s gaze steadily. “Do not let his demeanor fool you. Tolnoran may be one of the most…powerful fighters here but he is one of the kindest souls you will interact with here. If I am not around to aid you, find him.”

Tolnoran smiled at him. “I highly doubt Eli will ever not be available but, yes, if you ever need anything and he is not able, come find me.”

He nodded.

Elias opened to the bookmarked page. “Anything significant Cass passed on?”

Tolnoran’s demeanor shifted, the joy and play that had been on the man’s face slipping into a somber expression. Artemis caught a glimpse of Elias’s implication of the man’s fiercer presence. “Not from Cass but an update from Corax has put people on edge. If Corax’s scouts are to be believed-”

“And they usually are,” Elias interjected, flipping pages.

Tolnoran nodded. “Corax’s words,” he added before continuing. “If his scouts are to be believed, there’s a cluster of Kret coming in from the north.”

“Already?” Elias looked up, frowning. “I thought our only concern were the Crell.”

“They still are. Unfortunately, there’s talk that this particular cluster was driven south but Corax’s scouts hadn’t gotten the chance to clarify.”

Elias looked back at the open pages but his attention wasn’t on the pages. “Are they planning on sending a squad out.”

Tolnoran sighed heavily. “There’s push back from the Council. They don’t think there’s much threat from the Kret cluster when the Crell are practically on our doorstep in their opinion.”

Elias let out a sharp breath, closing the bundle of pages. “Of course it is.” He stood up tucking the pages under his arm. “Let me go talk with the Council. Be ready to leave in three hours.”

Surprise flittered against Tolnoran’s face. “You think you can get their opinion changed that quickly.”

A smirk crossed Elias’s face that let Artemis uneasy. Even the fur on Dlmor’s back stood up at it. “Oh, I am not expecting it to take even an hour but I need time to prep the boy.”

“Boy?” Tolnoran asked.

“Artemis,” Elias corrected. “If we’re going out, he’s coming with. His Dlmor will be a much needed asset.” Elias patted Tolnoran’s shoulder on the way to the door. “I’m trusting you to have him as ready as possible in three hours.” Elias paused at the door, hand on the handle as he looked back at Artemis. “You want to know about the Second Plane, the best place to learn is by living it. If you do as you’re told, you’ll live to see your friends.”

He nodded.

The hallway was full of noise but none of it stayed when the door closed. For a moment he sat in that room with a new stranger and he wasn’t sure what he should do.

“Are you done?” He looked at Tolnoran, finding the large man had settled at the side of his bed and had bent over. The man’s hand was gesturing towards the bowl still sitting in his lap. He handed it over. Tolnoran placed the bowl on the table, offering, “You’ve kept Elias’s attention pretty well for the last three days.” The man sat in the chair by the bed. “He’s told me some of what has transpired but I was hoping you would share what I’m missing.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry but I don’t know you. I barely know Elias and I have no idea what he may or may not have told you, let alone what may or may not benefit me in having you know.”

Tolnoran chuckled. “He mentioned the resistance. Has he told you why he pulled you from the First Plane? Beyond it being part of the promise he made to your mother?”

He frowned. “How much do you know, Torra?”

Tolnoran took a deep breath as he sat back in the chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Not everything, that’s for sure. And what I do know isn’t the full picture.” Tolnoran’s gaze drifted back to him. “I knew your mother, Ellen, but I only knew her in passing. I didn’t get on better terms with Elias till a few years ago, some time around him showing up here. We caught up and he told me he had made a promise to his sister to watch over her son should she ever have to follow through with a plan and it come to fruition. He never told me what that plan was till almost a week ago when he told me he was going to pull you from the First Plane.”

“You know why he kidnapped me, then?”

Tolnoran let out a heavy sigh, looking sheepish. “Eli is a good guy. As much as he says I have a heart of gold, so does he. He’s just…a bit detached from it all after everything he’s been through.”

“But the kidnapping?”

Another sigh, though this one was sharper. “I don’t think it had started out as a kidnapping. I think he had truly wanted to meet you and introduce you into the Second Plane in a more neutral way but then you were attacked and he saw the damage that you sustained. It…” Tolnoran’s words petered out. “He told me that he knew you had sustained an injury but he hadn’t realized how bad you had it till the Healers had checked you through. Before this whole thing with you, he was a rocket - constantly moving, always one of the first on the field and quickest to get things done - but he hasn’t done much more than sit in here waiting for you to wake up.”

“He’s not lying.”
His head snapped around, startled by the new voice, but the only other beings in the room were Tolnoran and Dlmor. He looked to Tolnoran only to find a curious look on the man's face. "Did you hear that?"

Tolnoran frowned. "Your Dlmor talking?"

"In his defense, this is the first time he's actually been able to hear me." He looked down at Dlmor as the creature rested its chin on his thigh. "I've had to use Transference to talk with him."

Tolnoran frowned at that, looking to Artemis. "You weren't able to hear them?"

He shook his head no. "First time I ever interacted with Dlmor was after it defended me against some other shadow."

"Kret," Dlmor supplied.

"Do all Kret do damage by screaming?"

Tolnoran laughed. "That's one way to put it. They do a sort of psychic attack but I haven’t heard of any doing more than giving someone a severe headache for a few hours.”

“So my experience was strange?”

“In many ways.” Dlmor bared its teeth in a silent snarl. “The damage you had sustained had been unusual for a Kret assault so either you had sustained damage prior to the Kret or something is terribly wrong.”

He ran his hand over Dlmor’s head. “We’ll deal with it when we need to. I’m just glad I can hear and see things of the Second Plane clearly now.”

“You weren’t able to?” Tolnoran asked, curious.

He shook his head no. “Most anything from the Second Plane was either invisible or some strange shadow, inky form and any sound was like a painful screech against my brain. Even the…whatever you had called it - the memory sharing thing-”

“Transference.”

“Even that hurt. But I had been under the impression it had been from the damage that Kret had done.”

Tolnoran pushed his foot against the base of the bed in order to tip the chair back onto two legs. “Strange. And this was any creature from the Second Plane?”

“As far as I could tell.”

Tolnoran settled the chair back onto all four legs, head turning towards the door. “Ysle.”

He frowned, parroting, “Ye-aisle?” as a creature he had never seen before pushed open the door.

“Almost. Condense the front vowel sound. Combined the ‘y’ and ‘i’ sound” The creature walked right up to Tolnoran and nuzzled the hand the man put out. “Isn’t that right, Ysle.” There was a low rumble of a purr from the creature as Tolnoran rubbed its snout. The man grinned at him. “You can see them, yeah?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “If you mean I see a creature that looks like it's an oversized komodo dragon stretched a bit thin with dusty gray and black scales with red and yellow peeking out from underneath and golden eyes, then yes.”

“This is a Kret, though Ysle has richer coloring than most you’ll see later.” Ysle climbed up onto Tolnoran’s shoulders. The creature was easily as long as the man was tall and yet Tolnoran didn’t even seem to notice as the creature settled on his shoulders, chin resting on top of his head. “Most will be more earth colors to help blend in with either rock or sand, depending on the region they're from. North ones will stand out against the sands. Their coloring will be different shades of gray.”

“Do they talk?”

Tolnoran scratched at Ysle’s neck. “No, not like we do. The only ones that do speak are Dlmor, though Belvren and Jaun can be taught to some degrees of success; Jaun are more likely to learn how to speak in fluid sentences while Belvren seem to stick with a string of words that may or may not make sense together.”

“Talking that difficult to learn?”

“More of switching from a mostly image and emotion based communication to one of words is challenging,” Dlmor spoke up. “Jaun are able to pick it up easier because they use noises to communicate instead of Transference. Belvren can understand and mimic words but they’re more like parrots or other birds that can learn human speech.”

“So what makes Dlmor different?”

“My kind are a step above Jaun in the sense that we’ve had language long before we interacted with humans. We speak through Transference - humans like to call it telepathy but it’s a bit more complex than that. For us, it’s more than the Transference they associate with Belvren, Kret, and the like. Our Transference allows us to create thought into words that a being of language will understand. Most Transference will not work on those of language because of the lack of exposure to the type of Transference those of the Second Plane use.”

“But I understood your Transference?” he questioned, confused.

Tolnoran shifted in his seat. “Those attuned to the Second Plane will be able to understand some Transference. We’re more adapt to understanding the emotion and image thought than others.”

Dlmor’s eyes narrowed and Artemis got the impression that wasn’t quite right. Dlmor caught his staring and he knew it would tell him later. His frown deepened. There had been no pain, no distinction between Dlmor’s thought and his own, and he found himself growing concerned at the concept. Dlmor sent him reassurance and calm, soothing his growing worry. He would learn how to discern the difference now that he was lacking pain.

He buried his hand into the longer fur at the back of Dlmor’s neck. As long as it didn’t use Transference overly much until he did, he would be fine.

He changed the subject. “So what kind of prepping will I need? I haven’t really fought with Dlmor beyond the misunderstanding that was Elias’s arrival.”

Tolnoran laughed. “He told me about that. He feels bad that he had to do that to you and your companions but there had been something else in those woods that had wanted you first.”

“What kind of something else?”

Tolnoran shook his head as Ysle hopped down. “No idea. He didn’t say and I didn’t ask.” The man stood up. “He did tell me he had sent some of ours to go make sure your companions were safe, if that helps.”

The worry didn’t ease as his distrust about the whole thing weighed heavily in his chest. Reassurance and the sense that Tolnoran was telling the truth drifted over him as Dlmor stood up. He let his hand fall into his lap. “A bit.” He turned his gaze back to Tolnoran. “And the prepping?”

“Well, first we’ve got to get you out of that bed and dressed.” Tolnoran’s gaze drifted to the dresser briefly. “Not sure if they stashed anything in here for you - hopefully there’s at least patient garb - but the armory will have gear for you. I’m going to let you get up at your own pace and your Dlmor be your main support as I dig through the dresser.”

He wasn’t sure how Dlmor could help him till said creature hopped down from the bed and easily shifted into a bipedal version of their four legged form. Dlmor stretched its height and enlarged its hands as he pushed the blankets off.

“You do realize he hasn’t been discharged by a healer yet, right?” Dlmor pointed out as those large hands wrapped around his torso as he situated himself on the edge of the bed. Familiarity ghosted its way through his body as the memories of the previous times Dlmor had done this came floating through. He ran his hands over Dlmor’s arms, noticing finally that the pinpricks of sparkling color were individual strands of fur; each strand among the dark, almost black blue strands seemed to behave like prisms. The strands appeared to be a brilliant silver against the darker strands but the light would play off of them causing other colors to flicker off of them. They were thinner than the dark strands and only the tips seemed to glow. Even running his hands over Dlmor’s arms coaxed a cacophony of colors from those silver strands even as silver stayed the predominant color.

A low growl from Dlmor brought his attention back to the room and he realized he had missed something.

Dlmor’s hands were still around his torso but he was on his feet now. Tolnoran was standing beside him, half turned towards the door with a bundle of fabric in the hand closest to him. Ysle was standing between the three of them and the door, crouched and sideways as a warning to those at the door.

Standing in the doorway was a small cluster of people and creatures. One of the creatures looked to be similar to Ysle but the shape was far slimmer and was very clearly furred with long ears and a thin tail. The other two creatures were some creature he didn’t recognize, though one looked to be made out of rock or earth and the other some crystal.

Dlmor answered his unasked questions: the one that looked like Ysle was a Jaun and a dangerous one at that, the other two were Belvren and loyal to their humans to a fault. Along with the creature information came Dlmor’s annoyance and information of those standing in the doorway.

Of the three people, the only woman - Cecile Drev, Head of Communications - had the Jaun - Vulren - but the Jaun was more loyal to the man standing center. The man on the right - Albert Conner, Head of Defense - had a Belvren - Coal - that was made of coal. The man standing center - Hector Fox, Leader of Ilmor Outpost - had a large Belvren - Sharp - that appeared to be made of diamond but was actually made of a crystal that imitated the look of diamond. This last bit of information was filled with a pleased satisfaction coming from Dlmor, of which was followed by the information that it wasn’t something easily discernible and Dlmor was very confident that none of those before them were aware of that fact.

Or, if they were, they were very good at pretending.

“Unusual to see you assisting the healers, Balthazar ,” Albert Conner spoke, sounding mildly amused. “Not enough work out on the field for you?”

“No, Sir,” Tolnoran spoke evenly. “Simply doing as Captain Vex has requested. Will be out on the field shortly.”

“And what was this request, Lieutenant,” Hector Fox requested, though it sounded more like an order to Artemis.

It must have to Tolnoran, too, because the man’s grip on the bundle of fabric tightened. “I am to get this young man cleared by the healers. My understanding is Captain Vex had other plans for him that I was not privy to and would take him from me when he was done with other duties.”

Hector Fox’s gaze landed on Artemis. It was surprisingly hard not to bristle under the man’s gaze. “And what is your name, son?”

He hesitated, unsure what he was supposed to say, but that hesitation faded as Dlmor gave him the push to be truthful. “Artemis Lorncroft, sir.”

“Welcome to Ilmor Outpost, Artemis. I look forward to your contributions here.” Hector Fox looked back at Tolnoran. “Captain Vex is currently speaking with part of the Council. I will inform him you have gone where when the meeting concludes?”

“Armory, Sir. I’m waiting on orders to either help with the Crell situation or to cut off the incoming Kret.”

Hector Fox’s gaze flickered down to Ysle. “I will put a word in to have you sent north. Best fight fire with fire.”

“Captain Corax was dealing with the Crell,” Hector Fox directed at Albert Conner.

“Still is. He had a few scouts come back from the north with word of a cluster of Kret but he doesn’t believe it is anything to be concerned about. Captain Vex does, as do I and Cass. Even if Captain Corax’s thoughts of it being not a big deal, I would much rather take care of it now before it becomes one.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Cass is behind you on that decision?” Hector Fox clarified.

Albert Conner nodded. “She suggested putting Captain Vex in charge of it and it would seem he’s taking that decision very seriously if he’s taking the time to convince the Council that it’s worth it.”

Hector Fox’s expression betrayed disbelief and curiosity as the man turned away from the door. “Well, he’ll have an easier time once we give them the latest from Communications.” Hector Fox looked back at Tolnoran. “There’s a storm coming in from the north. Either the Kret are behind it or it’s a coincidence.”

Tolnoran nodded. “I’ll make sure we’re prepared for what may come at us, Sir.”

“See that you do. I don’t want to waste the personnel on a wild goose chase.”

“Of course, Sir.”
The three higher ups walked away leaving the door wide open.

“Ysle,” Tolnoran softly commanded. The Kret moved to the door and pushed it closed before laying down against the bottom.

Artemis looked to him. “I take it they’re not the best of company to be around?”

Tolnoran snorted. “Oh, Colonel Conner and Cass are great people to be around - some of the better, in fact - but it’s the other higher ups that aren’t all that great to be around. Leader Fox runs a tight ship but there something about him that’s always put me on edge. Madam Drev I don’t know well enough to have an opinion of but the way her Jaun behaves has many of us thinking there’s more broken about her than what we’re seeing.”

Artemis looked to Dlmor. “How did you know their names?”

He caught Tolnoran looking over sharply out of the corner of his eye as Dlmor finally let him go. “Vulren came by the first night you were here, curious no doubt, and happened to be a bit more chatty than was probably wise. Jaun are not known to be cocky but this one sure is.”

“Vulren is also very vicious.” Tolnoran put in, expression and tone serious. “Do not cross that Jaun. You will get torn to shreds faster than you could blink.”

Dlmor snorted at that. “I’d like to see an attempt at that.”

“Dlmor,” Tolnoran started but Dlmor waved him off.

“I will not encourage nor seek after that behavior. I am not that stupid nor that confident in my skills against a Jaun. However, a Jaun can still be taken down. A cocky one just makes that task easier.”

Artemis asked, “Is there a ranking then on which creatures are stronger or better fighters than others?”

Tolnoran let out a sigh. “Not necessarily.”

“No type is inherently stronger or a better fighter than the other,” Dlmor explained. “That is simply from my experience. But, then, I have only ever fought with Jaun that have had a human support so I’m not sure if that has had any impact on my experiences.”

“Do humans boost creature strengths?”

Tolnoran wobbled his hand in the air. “Kind of? Humans act more like points of reference and advice more than a source of power but I’ve seen some creatures bolstered by a human so there isn’t really a straight answer to that question. It also depends on the type and strength of the bond.”

“What of the creature to a human?”

Confusion flickered across both their faces as Tolnoran asked, “What do you mean?”

Artemis was fairly certain the answer was no if Tolnoran was asking for clarification but he elaborated anyways. “You’ve both have said that a creature can get aid of some kind from a human - be is simply a different perspective or some form of strength - but what about the human? Does the human gain the same thing?”

Tolnoran glanced at Dlmor before stating, “The human usually isn’t the one fighting. If they are, they’re fighting the other human or acting as support.”

“Do you remember how Lora crafted the bow and was firing arrows?” Dlmor spoke up, drawing his attention towards the foggy memories. “Most humans gain the ability to craft something out of their partnership but that’s the extent of anything the human gains.”

“Thus the need for an armory, then?”

Tolnoran nodded, passing him the bundle of fabric. “Less strain on the bond if we don’t have to craft.” He took the bundle and started to change into the outfit. “That and most that do go out onto the fields either had a partnership that isn’t a full bond or are Ylmra.”

He pulled the large shirt over his head. The entire thing was very squared. There was no curve in the arms, shoulder, or body of the shirt and he felt like was wearing a sheet quickly stitched into something vaguely shirt shaped. “Ylmra can’t craft?”

“They can,” Tolnoran offered, though the words were drawn out. “But most never figure out how. It’s easier when there’s a creature outside of you rather than try and figure it out from within.”

“No one can teach them?”

“It’s not something you can learn from someone else,” Dlmor pointed out. “There’s no simple way to describe it. It is truly an act that you either stumble upon, or you don’t.”

He thought of the object he had thrown, the things he had crafted from what Dlmor had left behind. Dlmor shot him a look and he knew even without the push from the creature that he was to keep that to himself. “What of Ylmra having a partner? Is that possible with what they are?”

Tolnoran frowned at him. “How much do you know of the Ylmra.”

“Very little.” He met the older man’s gaze. “And only what Elias told me. He said that Ylmra are rare; that they are two beings that have become one, in a sense.”

Tolnoran’s frowned eased a bit but it didn’t go away. “Well, that’s not inaccurate at least. But it is missing a lot of it.” Tolnoran placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, starting for the door. “Ylmra are able to create bonds but they are difficult to maintain so many don’t. Thus why the armory. But enough about this for now. We’ve got to stop by the main healer’s office and get you checked over before I walk you across the compound.”

Ysle got up and moved away from the door. Dlmor adjusted its shape to be the same shoulder height as a big dog, pressing in against his thigh so that his fingers could bury themselves easily into the long fur at the creature’s neck and shoulders.

The hallway wasn’t overly busy but it was full of noise. He followed Tolnoran’s direction down the left hallway past numerous rooms and many people all dressed in something that counted as scrubs. His eyes wandered as he took in the people and the creatures there. A large majority were the same creature - some long, fur covered creature with two sets of paws with thumbs and prehensile tails - that Dlmor informed him were Cyor. He spotted a few smaller Kret and a number of Belvren. He noted that not everyone had a creature companion. In fact, now that he was paying attention to the numbers, closer to only a quarter - a third at most - had some creature with them and there were a lot of people there. Two Jaun slipped through trailing a few personnel.

Dlmor was the only of its kind that he could see.

Dlmor passed him a bit of what Dlmor are capable of and he found he wasn’t surprised that invisibility was a trait that Dlmor were capable of. There was a curious note unintentionally attached to the small fact and he was surprised when Dlmor elaborated; there was a chance that he would be able to see even those Dlmor that were invisible, though not see them outright so much as see a distortion in the air where they were. If he was, it would take practice if he couldn’t see them now.

He was also shoved an equal parts amused and annoyed note to be patient. There weren’t any others around to practice with.

Tolnoran stopped at the large desk in the middle of a large room. He could see numerous hallways converging at the one point as Tolnoran leaned on the counter. “I apologize. I have orders from Captain Vex to get this patient cleared and up to the armory as soon as possible. Is there anyone available to check him over real quick and clear him?”

The nurse on the other side of the counter muttered something he couldn’t here and the apologetic look on Tolnoran’s face fell a bit.

It didn’t last long. Before the nurse on the other side of the counter could even utter a proper word to the man, other voices cried out his name. “Torra!”

Tolnoran’s head snapped up, eyes on the source before a massive grin eradicated the previous look. “Hey everyone!”

Ysle curled around Artemis and Dlmor as Tolnoran tucked him against the counter as he stepped towards the arriving group. The chatter was fast and rough but Artemis caught bits and pieces enough to know that the man was fielding an onslaught of questions in order to get one of them to bring him someone that could clear Artemis. It took a hot minute before a - well, they looked like a doctor to him but they were probably one of the healers - as a healer strode over and dismissed the group. Artemis had lost interest in the crowd at the top of that hot minute when chatter in the opposite direction drew his attention. The healer and Tolnoran talked for a moment but that was all Artemis was aware of as he watched a cluster of people rushed down a hallway he couldn’t see. Half a second later the cluster of people were scattering back into the hallway they had just vacated, the sound of shouts and cries drawing more than just his attention.

He didn’t realize he had moved until his stomach collided with Ysle’s side. He bent over the creature’s back arm instinctively wrapping around the neck but his attention didn’t waver. The calls for security could now be clearly understood and the frantic call for medical supplies a roll of background noise. There was the crash of metal underneath a scream that sent a chill down his spine.

He didn’t remember getting around Ysle.

The hallway was a wreck. There were people and objects scattered throughout the side hallway. He stared as a person wreaked havoc to the surrounding area. Two personnel were trying to get close, trying to sedate the person if he was understanding any of it. Not that he was able to really hear anything. He was fairly certain Dlmor was giving him the information from the hallway because there was an odd ringing in his ears. He watched as the person threw one of the personnel down the hallway with a scream of rage.

Adrenaline shot through Artemis’s body.

There was something on the person’s back- at the person’s back. It was large but lanky, and not fully there. It was mostly black or a dark gray with white eyes and teeth. The thing wasn’t solid, looking more like it was made of gas rather than something solid. The thing laughed and grinned as the person it was draped over and clinging to threw a chair at the other personnel.

Those white eyes drifted towards Artemis and their gazes met.

The grin on the thing’s face stretched far wider than what seemed naturally possible. Pain shot through Artemis’s head but he didn’t care. He knew the thing was trying to hurt him now but he didn’t care. He took off running with fury and adrenaline driving him towards the thing.

The thing reached out for him but Dlmor was there clamping down its own white teeth on the thing’s see-through wrist. The thing screamed as he vaulted over the person and collided with the thing’s chest. The thing wasn’t completely solid but it was solid enough for him to collide with and shove off of the person it clung to.

The three of them hit the ground hard but Artemis didn’t give it a chance to recover. He shifted his weight back and to the side, hand going out for balance and as a guide as Dlmor reshaped. The back of a hand that was mostly claws followed his palm, down his arm, and stabbed into the floor pinning the thing in place as it tried to shake Dlmor off its wrist to no avail. Dlmor’s hand clenched around the thing and it let out another scream. Artemis intercepted the other hand, catching the wrist under his arm. He pulled back on the hand and pinned it to his chest, leaning back so that it put serious strain on the weak appearing joint.

Another scream.

Voices suddenly bombarded him from all sides and for a moment he didn’t understand till he looked away from the thing he was helping pin. His gaze swept around the sea of new strangers and his gaze landed on Tolnoran. The man was holding the person Artemis had just freed and the only thing he made out over the new cacophony of voices was, “…a trap.”
His view of Tolnoran and the person was obscured as soon as he made out that one word. The person had looked panicked, pulling at Tolnoran’s shirt, but the man had a calm, patient expression that seemed to contradict the paleness on the man’s face. Those that were swarming Artemis, Dlmor, and the thing were all armed and they were not kind when they yanked him from the thing. Their handling of him didn’t even register as he watched one of them take a swing at Dlmor. He fought against the hands on him as he screamed, “Don’t you dare touch them!”

Ysle came out of nowhere, shoving the soldiers - they had to be soldiers; what else would wear that much armor in a medical ward - back and away from Dlmor. There was a crack and the crowd backed off some. He realized as one of the people in his line of sight moved that Ysle had just cracked its tail like a whip as it did it a second time.

It seemed to have been enough to draw Tolnoran’s attention for the man was shoving his way through the soldiers, shouting, “Back up! Back off! Stand down, soldier, or I will shove that weapon up where the sun don’t shine.”

Tolnoran’s fury was like an invisible force that shoved the soldiers away from the still struggling thing, Dlmor, and Ysle. It wasn’t until Tolnoran turned a sharp glare at the soldier restraining him that he was freed. He fell forward enough to take the first step before he was racing across the space.

The soldier’s actions had caused him to let go of the thing’s hand and as soon as it had been freed, the thing had buried its claw like fingers into Dlmor’s back and side. Dlmor hadn’t budged from its position pinning the thing down and had instead pinned its other hand at the thing’s throat to keep the head near the ground and keep itself anchors enough to keep the thing pinned. He grabbed at the claws in Dlmor’s back but didn’t pull, asking in a strained voice, “What do you need me to do?”

His head pulsed with pain but he barely noticed. Instead, he took Dlmor’s direction and did as told. He planted his feet on the creature’s chest and grabbed at the thing’s equivalent to a pointer and ring finger. With his stance secure, he pulled, hard. There was another scream but he ignored it, barely aware of much more than what needed to be done as Tolnoran came up behind him, reached around him, and grabbed just above his hands on the thing’s fingers before adding his own weight to Artemis’s. The scream kicked up a higher pitch as the claws came free of Dlmor’s body.

The first thing he was able to focus on was the blood coating the claws, of how it dripped from them as he struggled to keep the thing’s hand from returning to Dlmor’s flesh. The second thing he was able to focus on was Dlmor itself. The creature’s black blood looked like ink dripping from the puncture points and pooling on the thing and the floor beneath it. The third thing he was able to focus on was the crowd. The soldiers had backed off but now it was like shock had set in. None of them came forward to help, to do anything of use, and rage billowed up through him like a scream.

Or maybe it had been a scream because his throat was raw like he had just screamed as loud and as hard as he was physically able to. Only, he couldn’t remember screaming and he certainly didn’t remember why his vision was starting to come back. Tolnoran’s face was the first thing to come into focus. It took a bit longer for his to figure out it was because the man had an arm around his shoulders keeping him mostly upright. There was a warm weight on his stomach and the sensation of fur under his fingers but he couldn’t get his head to move to look. He tried - hadn’t thought much of it, really - but all it did was made him dizzy. Tolnoran’s arm flexed under his shoulders, squeezing him gently. “Easy. We’re just waiting on the healer that had been in charge of you earlier.”

“What happened?” he croaked, making a face at the sound.

Tolnoran’s half smile fell immediately. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember yanking the thing’s fingers-claws out of Dlmor’s side and getting mad at the soldiers for just standing there in shock.” Nausea slammed into him as his head gave a painful throb. There was a whine - is sounded almost like a dog whine - from somewhere near his stomach as he flinched from both. “I don’t…after that is blank.”

Tolnoran’s face twisted into a grimace before the man looked away. “That’s not good.”

“Torra, what happened?” he asked, forcing both eyes fully open. “Why do I have a headache again?”

Tolnoran didn’t look back down at him, eyes somewhere Artemis couldn’t see. He was left to stare at the ceiling beyond the man’s head and shoulders but the headache started to throb in time with his pulse and he closed his eyes wondering if that would help.

“Hey, you have to stay awake for me, Artemis,” Tolnoran spoke, voice hard yet the edges quaked in some frail emotion.

He made a face and opened his eyes again. “Wasn’t sleeping.” The words sounded slurred to his ears and he watched as Tolnoran paled.

The man looked back towards whatever it was the man was looking at, muttering, “Come on, Ysle. Faster.”

“Torra,” he tried again but a panic he didn’t realize he was feeling snuck its way into the word causing it to be pitched higher than he had meant it to be.

Tolnoran’s gaze was on him immediately. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s going to be fine.” The man’s expression was tight, panicked at the edges, but the encouraging smile was real and despite it being lies off the man’s tongue, the compassion and care were genuine. “You just did a lot more than you were meant to do so shortly after waking up. It’s ok. Just…we have to wait for the healer to get here, ok?”

“How much longer?” The words didn’t sound quite as slurred to him but the way Tolnoran’s expression fell told him it had probably been worse.

“Not much longer. They’re almost here.”

“Tolnoran!”

The shout echoed and sounded far too distant for his liking but Tolnoran’s head whipped around. Amazingly, the man didn’t jostle him with the sudden movement. The man’s free hand rose into the air and Artemis caught the glimpse of black and red. “Elias! Over here!”

The sound of running footfall echoed oddly as it got louder. It was almost deafening by the time it slowed down and quieted. The first voice he recognized immediately.

“Tolnoran, thank the Divine. Are you two alright?”

“I am,” Tolnoran assured Elias quickly, “but Artemis isn’t.”

“Let me see them, Lieutenant,” a new voice gently ordered. Artemis didn’t remember closing his eyes but he got them to open as he felt Tolnoran shifting. At first everything was just a blur of colors but after a few blinks, it cleared to blurry shapes and then to discernible things before clearing enough for him to make out faces. Elias was kneeling at his feet putting the man at Tolnoran’s right shoulder. Tolnnoran had wrapped an arm around the man’s torso and had his face buried in Elias’s chest. Elias’s arms were loosely draped around the man’s neck though one hand was carding through Tolnoran’s dirt and dust filled hair. Elias watched the healer and Artemis. For a brief moment their eyes met before the healer turned his head.

He flinched from the sudden stab of pain. Breath rushed into his lungs like he had cried out but he hadn’t heard himself.

“Easy,” the healer coaxed. “I know. Everything hurts. Give me a second to check you over and I should be able to get you stable enough to walk on your own.” There was a pause as the healer’s hands tested his shoulders, his neck, poked and prodded at ribs and his stomach, felt along his arms and legs. “Any memory loss?”

“The last hour.”

Artemis’s eyes snapped to Tolnoran in shock only to wince from the burst of pain it caused. Wherever he had been moved to must have freed up Tolnoran’s hand because the man was stroking his hair when he managed to open his eyes again. Elias had moved out of his line of sight.

“Artemis.” He looked to the healer. Their expression was serious, heavy, and apprehension squeezed at his chest. “Do you remember sustaining any damage before the point of amnesia? Any moments of pain that you may have brushed off.”

He frowned and started trying to recall the last few minutes he did remember. He remembered the thing pinned under Dlmor, Tolnoran at his back as they pulled at the thing’s hand, his first grappling with its hand, the sight of it as he vaulted over the person…

White eyes locked with his and a stabbing pain shot through his head as a white toothed grin stretched farther than was natural.

“Artemis!”

He gasped, hands clenched around something he didn’t recognize. Faces swam in his vision different weights pressed into him. Panic swelled in his chest but it plateaued and fizzled out when Tolnoran and Elias’s faces became clear. The healer was at the edge of his vision.

“Easy, Artemis,” Elias coaxed in a low voice. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

“Wha…” he started but he wasn’t even sure what to ask.

Elias shook his head. “It’s alright. You simply panicked but you’re safe now.”

He realized his heart was racing in his chest only when one of the weights on him moved to his chest. Belatedly he realized they were hands and he guessed it was Tolnoran’s hand on his chest from the size. That also meant he was holding onto the man’s forearm because his hands moved in the same motion as Tolnoran’s hand had moved.

“Will you be alright if we asked about it?” Tolnoran inquired, his voice small and very careful.

He wasn’t even sure if he knew what had made him panic.

“Talis had asked if you remember any pain from before the memory lapse,” Elias reminded him, watching him.

He blinked. A prickling of some emotion he didn’t want to name shot down his spine at that. “Oh. Yeah. I did. It was-” he shuddered and the pressure from Tolnoran’s hand on his chest increased briefly; he took comfort from it- “it was when…when I looked the thing in the eyes for the first time. Pain shot through my head.” He frowned. “I don’t…I don’t really know if there was anything else but I would be surprised if there wasn’t.” His gaze went to Elias as a different sort of panic filled him. “What of Dlmor, though? Are they ok? That…thing had buried its claws into their side and back.”

“They’re fine,” Elias assured him. “Just resting right now. As soon as we get you cleared to move, you can check over them, alright?”

That didn’t sate any of his concern but he was willing to be patient. “Alright.”

The bodies around him shifted and moved about until the healer was fully beside him with something in hand. “Artemis, I am going to give you something for the pain but it will put you under for the time being. It is the only way for me to safely check the damage you’ve sustained from earlier.”

“Elias and Torra aren’t going anywhere, right?”

Both men leaned forward so that he could properly see them, Elias’s hand returning to his hair. “Of course not,” Elias assured him. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Tolnoran gently pressed into his chest for a moment. “I’ll make sure your Dlmor is brought along, too.”

He pulled in a large breath. It shuddered in his chest. “Ok.” He looked to the healer. “Ok.”
Everything was heavy and he hated the fact that he was waking up. It took a moment before he realized that he couldn’t remember taking whatever the healer had wanted to give him, let alone actually falling under its sedation. At least his head didn’t hurt and his thoughts seemed rather clear compared to the last time he had done this.

There was something on the edge of his hearing that he didn’t quite understand until the voices became discernible. It took the words a bit longer to make sense.

“...seen him that shaken before.” Elias’s voice was low, rough, but he took comfort in the fact that they had done their best to keep their promise to him.

A voice he didn’t recognize drifted through the room. “You asked him what had happened, then?”

Elias snorted. “Of course I asked. Sheer curiosity would have driven me to ask had my duty not.” There was a heavy pause. “I’m going to write up a report but I don’t think I can repeat what he had told me. If you want the story, you’ll have to ask him or Artemis.”

“Do you think he remembers?”

Elias sighed. “I’m not sure. I never verified if there had been any memory loss the last time he had sustained a similar injury but a whole hour?” There was the sound of fabric shifting. “The healer’s not even sure if the two injuries can be compared at this point so we’re going into this blind.”

“If he doesn’t, is Torra-”

“Shhhh.” Silence fell at Elias’s command. A part of him that didn’t dare breathe. “Do you hear that?”

The silence stretched through the room. There was a spark to it, a touch of adrenaline as those in the room waited for whatever Elias had heard to get clearer. A noise started to leak through the door and very quickly it started to sound like shouting.

“What’s going on out there?” Elias questioned. There was the sound of footfall against the floor as the shouting started to sound oddly familiar. He opened his eyes in time to watch Elias open the door.

“-my brother right now or so help me-”

“Bethany?” Elias inquired, sounding skeptical.

Artemis was skeptical. There was no way his older sister was there but as he pushed himself up, he could barely make out his sister around Elias. The woman Elias had been walking with got up from her chair and walked over to the side of the bed. She didn’t force him to lay back down but she did get him to lean back on some pillows as they both watched the confrontation between Elias and Bethany.

“YOU,” Bethany snarled. “Where’s Artemis. And don’t say you don’t have any idea. Lora called me in a panic almost four days ago now about some stranger having kidnapped Artemis and, lo and behold, I recognized the description of the man who had taken him.”

“Bethany, let me explain-”

“No! How bout you listen because, God damn it, Mom may have forgotten but I couldn’t. I still remember every little thing she deemed worthy to teach me and every little trick you had shown me. But when all of that changed after Artemis was born, I left this all behind and now I’m being forced to look back to get my brother out of here. You had no right bringing him here. Especially not like that.”

“He didn’t give me much choice-”

“Bullshit he-”

“He was attacked by a Kret!” Elias’s bellow made the silence that followed deafening. He watched the man’s chest expand with a breath that shook. “A strong one. Beth, if I hadn’t brought him here, he probably would have died from the mental damage it had dealt him. He slept through the last three days and only woke up because the medication the healers were giving him worked to keep him from going brain dead or suffering anything worse. So don’t tell me I was in the wrong bringing him here. Not when you won’t hear me out.”

“Elias?”

Tolnoran’s voice drifted in from down the hallway. Elias took a step into the hallway clearing Artemis’s line of sight to his sister. She looked fierce but he could make out the exhaustion at the edge of her pissed expression. “Tolnoran-” Elias started breathlessly.

“Is everything alright?” Tolnoran asked, voice a bit louder due to proximity alone.

“More or less.” Elias gestured to Artemis’s sister. “This is Bethany, Artemis’s older sister.”

“And his niece,” she added with a pointed glare at Elias. She turned a more neutral expression towards Tolnoran. “He’s our mom’s older brother but he doesn’t care much about being around family anymore.”

Elias let out a sharp breath. “I told you when I left that it was better that I didn’t associate with you or Artemis after-” The words stopped but Artemis - and clearly Bethany - knew exactly what he was referring to.

“So you just abandoned me to deal with everything that came our way on my own!” Bethany shot back, infuriated. “Dad never saw the damn things - couldn’t even feel them! - and there was no way Mom was going to be able to even know how to start helping him!”

“You were plenty strong enough-” he tried but she cut him off viciously.

“I was still a kid!”

“You were 14!”

“I was barely old enough to take care of myself, let alone try and protect my kid brother from things that still give me nightmares! I ran away from all of it as soon as I could because I couldn’t do it anymore! I couldn’t protect my little brother because you dropped that responsibility into my lap before I was ready and now you’re acting like you care now?!”

“Bethany-”

“No! I’m taking Artemis home, and that’s final!”

There was a faint ringing in his ears when silence fell in the room. The woman was still standing at his bedside but he didn’t care. He shifted to the edge of the bed, his movement drawing his sister and his uncle’s attention. Both spoke his name, though Bethany’s was far more frantic than relieved. She closed the distance between them faster than Elias and Artemis wasn’t sure he was happy to see her or simply confused.

He went with the confused while it was there. “Why are you here?”

Bethany pulled back, hands gently gripping his shoulders. “I’m taking you home. Lora called me in a fit when you were kidnapped.”

He shook his head. “No. In the Second Plane. You know how to get here?”

Confusion bled into her expression. “Of course I do. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“So you’re a Walker, then?”

A dark look pushed the confusion out before she managed a neutral expression. “Was a Walker. I gave that lifestyle up a long time ago and you’ll be able to do the same. Whatever he’s told you-” she sent Elias a glare- “has been lies.”

“Now see here, miss,” Tolnoran started, now in the doorway. Elias put his arm out, stopping the other man.

“Beth,” Elias spoke up, voice soft. “Where’s your Jaun? Toll-something, right?”

Bethany’s entire demeanor turned to ice. “Touley.” She turned a hard glare onto Elias. “And they’ve been dead for years. Died protecting my brother somewhere around the two year mark.”

Pain laced through Elias’s expression. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you?” she challenged. “Do you know the pain a Walker feels when their bond is broken like that? I thought I was dying when their core was crushed between teeth. Probably would have if Artemis’s Dlmor hadn’t finally stepped in.”

“I distinctly remember being told to go handle the little guys while you took care of the large one, Walker,” Dlmor remarked, voice drifting up from under the bed and startling him. Bethany and the others seemed to already know Dlmor had been there.

It may have been years since he had seen his sister but she still had the same signs as their mom and dad when getting riled up. He stepped closer to her, drawing her attention away from Dlmor. “You knew this entire time? Of what I was? What Mom did?”

Several emotions flickered across her face and he caught the flicker of regret and anger. “Of course I knew. I was 14, old enough to be bonded, old enough to know. She didn’t tell me her plan, though.” She turned a glare to Elias but standing that close allowed Artemis to see the hurt that was under the anger. “She just up and didn’t remember any of it one day. Couldn’t even see Toley. Broke their heart when she didn’t even respond to them.”

Elias shook his head. “I couldn’t convince her to not go through with it.” He opened his arms wide, expression closed off. “I never want anyone to become what I am.”

Annoyance flittered across her face. “Yeah, well. Look at where that’s gotten us.”

“You had a Jaun?” he asked, wondering if his attempt to change the subject was too obvious or would be fought.

Bethany smiled weakly at him. “Yeah. You liked Toley. You could see them for the first few months before the pact fully settled. They had coral colored fur and you had taken to anything coral colored when you weren’t able to see Toley anymore. I managed to convince Mom and Dad to let me buy you a stuffed monkey in the color. You wouldn’t do anything without it.” A slight frown pulled at her lips as her expression turned thoughtful. “I’m not sure what happened to that stuffed monkey. I hated it after Toley was taken and I left a few years after anyways.”

“I don’t remember it,” he offered honestly. “Sorry.”

She smiled at him again. “It’s alright.” She gestured towards the door where Elias and Tolnoran were still standing. Elias looked defeated with Tolnoran’s hands on either shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

He couldn’t get Elias’s gaze so he met his sister’s instead. “I want to stay.”

Bethany rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious. Artemis, this is nothing more than a bunch of people playing war. Let’s go and get you out of this nonsense.”

He shook his head, taking a step back towards the bed. “No. I can’t leave yet. You didn’t see what I saw yesterday, what I fought yesterday.”

Her face paled even as her rising anger colored her cheeks. “You’ve got to be joking. You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I joke about that?” he asked, genuinely confused by her comment. “Bethany, I went up against a…” The word - like Dlmor or Jaun - wouldn’t form right on his tongue so he translated it… “against an Echo, a shadow being that no one else could see until we brought it to light.”

“Are you sure?” Elias spoke up, weight shifting as if he wanted to step towards them. “There were plenty of accounts from the soldiers and Tolnoran saw it.”

“Very clearly,” the large man confirmed, shuddering.

He shook his head, adamant. “But not before we collided with it. Ask the medical staff. They’ll tell you there was nothing there until I was already leaping over the person it had attached to.”

“I can go do that.” He looked over his shoulder at the stranger he had forgotten about. Her expression was curious but there was a seriousness to it that made her look fierce. “I’ve got a few things to ask them about all this anyways. Colonel wants to know how it got in in the first place.”

Elias nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” The woman moved around the bed and came to a stop at his and Bethany’s side, offering her hand. “Seems right I introduce myself before I dip out. Lieutenant Colonel Cass, Second in Command to Colonel Albert Conner.”

Bethany shook her hand, demeanor shifting into a professional one that was probably a tad colder than needed. “Bethany Augustus, nee Lorncroft. Thank you for your assistance.”

“My pleasure,” the other woman assured her with a smirk before offering her hand to him.

He shook it politely. “Artemis Lorncroft. Pleasure to finally be acquainted.”

This pulled her smirk into a grin. “I hope my reputation precedes me well.”

He shrugged finding a small smile pulling at his lips. “Seeing as there has only been mention of you and high praise from Torra, I would hope it did with accuracy.”

She laughed at that. “I’ll take it.” She stepped back and gave them both a nod. “Hopefully I will be able to see you both off. If not, have a good rest of your day.”
When the door closed behind the woman’s departure, Bethany turned a disappointed and confused look on him. “So what’s so significant about this echo thing?”

“It…” But he found that he didn’t actually know. He frowned, gaze drifting down as he searched for the information he could have sworn had just been there. When he came up with nothing, he turned his gaze to Tolnoran. “Have you seen anything like it before?”

Tolnoran shook his head. “That was a first for me.”

Elias spoke up. “I know most if not all the creatures in the Second Plane but I’ve never seen anything like Tolnoran described, nor anything called an echo.”

Frustration churned in his chest. “It’s the translation of the name. It has one like Dlmor or Kret but I don’t know how to say it.”

That drew Elias’s curiosity. “Can you spell it?”

He gave the man a flat look. “I can hardly say it and you expect me to know how to spell it?”

“Then how…”

“I’d heard it. The thing had spoken it.”

Bethany placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel her trembling and he wondered if it was out of some fear or exhaustion. “What do you mean the thing spoke it?”

He shrugged. Her hand didn’t move. “It had spoken it.” He met Elias’s gaze. “Or, at least the name had been spoken. Everything else is kind of just…there.”

“Transference?”

“I don’t think so.”

Elias’s gaze moved to Dlmor. “Did you hear it?”

“No.” The creature’s gaze moved to Artemis. “Try repeating the name. I want to hear what it called itself.”

“I’m going to butcher it,” he warned.

Elias waved his concern off. “It’ll be close enough.”

He pulled at what he did remember of the encounter and brought up the conversation. At first he couldn’t make out the name enough to mimic it but then it was like someone whispered it clearly in his ear and it fell off his tongue with ease. “Olnvorox.”

The reaction was immediate. Both Elias and Tolnoran’s eyes widened in shock, color draining from both their faces as their creature companions hissed and reared back. Even Dlmor growled at the word but Bethany withdrew her hand as she shook her head in denial even as the fear drained the color from her face.

It worried him that even she knew what it was by its proper name.

“Are you sure?” Elias whispered, voice strained.

“Very.”

“But you’ve never heard of-” Tolnoran stumbled over the name- “of those until now, right?”

He gave a cautious nod.

“But why?” Elias pushed, sounding on the edge of frantic. “Why did it tell you its name if you didn’t know? Wouldn’t it have benefited if we hadn’t known?”

He frowned at that. “I don’t know the answer to that. It just did, along with the knowledge of what that thing had been and the significance of it being here.”

“Significance?”

He didn’t clarify at Elias’s prod. Instead, he turned his gaze onto Dlmor. “Are you sure a Kret attacked me back in the camper?”

Bethany took a step closer. “Artemis, what are you-”

“Of course,” Dlmor assured him, sounding affronted even as confusion molded its expression. “Why?”

“Because I don’t think it was.”

Elias caught on to his thoughts. “Artemis, if it was one of those, you would be dead right now.”

It dawned on Dlmor and Tolnoran at the same time. The creature’s eyes widened before drifting as if its thoughts were racing. Tolnoran shot him a look of pity and terror. He ignored it in favor of holding Elias’s gaze. “I was unconscious for three days here,” he stated. “Before that I slept through the entire day and was left with a fog filled brain when the pain wasn’t there to disrupt my thoughts instead.” He pulled in a breath, letting that settle around them. “Far more damage than any Kret can cause. Or so I’ve been told.”

“Elias,” Tolnoran choked. “Elias, if that was a-” a shuddering breath- “if it was one-”

Elias shook his head as he took a step back, turning to look at Tolnoran. The disbelief was quickly masked by determination. “Go warn Cass and Col. Conner. They’ll pass on the word if we’re believed.”

“Is there a chance you won’t be?” Artemis asked, watching Tolnoran rush out the door with Ysle at his side.

Elias’s haunted gaze landed on him. “There’s always a chance for every possibility but in this? No. This is very serious and even the Council - though they’ll deny it - will still follow the proper procedures for the situation.”

“We can’t stay here if there’s a…” Bethany started but the words died at the name. “We have to run.”

Elias shook his head. “We have to lock down. If there are more here, there’s no telling who they’ve attached to, let alone who they’ll attack.”

“What is an Olnvorox?” he put in. He watched the fear race through his family. “Why the fear of it? Of the name?”

“Artemis, do you remember the story Mom used to read to you for bedtime before I left? The one of the Evershadow?”

The nonsequential question didn’t make sense but he answered it anyways. “Barely. The one about the human that couldn’t get rid of the shadow haunting him until he pulled a star from the sky and gave it life?”

Bethany nodded. “It was one Mom shared with me as a kid. I had always thought it was just some obscure children’s story she had found but even fairy tales are based off of some truth. The Evershadow was based on this being, based on the…” she took a breath, looking pained, “Olnvorox.” She shuddered. “But the difference between the Evershadow and those is that the Evershadow was just a shadow. These things are real and will tear you apart in every way possible. And no one knows how to get rid of them. Whatever the star getting life represented was lost to the story’s origin.”

Elias stepped closer, a thoughtful frown on his face. “But that’s not quite accurate anymore. Tolnoran told me Artemis had destroyed the…” his pause was much shorter than Bethany’s, “Olnvorox with his Dlmor.”

Artemis looked to Dlmor. “Do you remember what had happened?”

His heart sank when Dlmor shook its head. “I remember even less than you do and in all honesty I had thought I had passed out when you pulled its claws out of my side. I don’t remember anything after that point. Well, except for Elias and the healer arriving but I’m not sure if it’s an actual memory or a fever dream.”

Bethany spoke up, her voice tight. “I’ve never seen one and I don’t have Toley anymore. Surely there’s enough time for me to get out of here at least.”

“If there was, I would send you home in a heartbeat,” Elias assured her, “but right now the risk is too high until the compound has been checked.”

“Is there really no way to keep anyone safe?” Artemis asked, looking between the two of them. “I don’t remember the specifics but didn’t the Evershadow story have other people in it outside of the main human? Ones that were harmed by it and ones that weren’t?”

Elias shifted his weight, offering, “I doubt having everyone sleep like in the story will protect any of them. This isn’t the Evershadow.”

“But the story held some truth, right?” he countered. “What if some of it was literal? What if it really was sleeping that protects us from an Olnvorax?”

“We can’t risk that.”

“But-”

A scream from the hallway cut through the door, startling all of them. Dlmor pressed into his left leg between him and the door. Elias turned around, muttering something to the creature draped around his neck. Artemis picked out the creature’s name from the muttered sounds before it did as requested. Trevak slid from Elias’s shoulders and glided down to the floor, growing in size as it went. By the time it was half as thick as Dlmor was round, Trevak’s body filled a large amount of the room. Feathered wings carefully tucked close to the scales. Elias let a hand rest on the snake’s body as Bethany wrapped her hands around Artemis’s shoulders.

“Artemis,” she whispered. “Please. You can’t trust him.”

He looked back at her, letting his hurt show at that. “I can’t not right now. Not when it means life or death for far too many.”

“Artemis,” she tried again, voice strained and pitched too high, but whatever she was going to say was cut off by another scream.

Elias didn’t look back even as he spoke. “Artemis.”

“I still trust your word to keep me safe if I followed what you said,” he acknowledged before the other man could continue. “I’ll only leave if you tell me to.”

He gained the man’s gaze before it moved to Bethany. “The smart thing would be to hunker down and wait it out but I have people out there that I need to check on and help. I can’t ask you to come with me.”

Artemis offered him an amused smile. “Well, it’s a good thing I was already planning on helping.”

“Artemis…”

He shook his head, giving the man an out. “Lead. We’re right behind you.”

Bethany’s grip on his shoulders turned painful. “Artemis, I don’t have a companion. I’m of no use out there and will only be a sitting duck!”

He looked over his shoulder at her, covering one of her hands with his. “I haven’t forgotten.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Stay close. Dlmor and I will protect you.”

“And when you two are too busy?”

It was a challenge but the fear cut through the sharpness of it. He gave her hand another squeeze. “There will be someone to take my place. I promise.”

The sound of running feet went past the door. There was another scream but it was faint. Elias moved towards the door, stating simply, “Time to go.”

Artemis gave her hand one last squeeze before slipping out from her touch. “I may not remember Toley but I remember my sister,” he offered her, holding her gaze. “I remember how strong she was when I was still too young to stand strong on my own. I remember her prowess as a person, the burning fire that had been there even after Toley vanished. I don’t remember it clearly but I remember it like I remember Mom’s hug and Dad’s prickly kisses. I remember it like I remember the happiness I had when you were around.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “I know you have so much more to lose now so let me protect you this time. Let me stand strong where you can’t- where you shouldn’t have to. I’ve got Dlmor now.”

“But I’m the older sister,” she tried using as a counter. “I should be protecting you, not the other way around.”

“You are protecting me,” he informed her, amused and mildly confused by that. “It just happens to not be in the way you want to.”

There was a new set of running feet and by the time they were at the door, he could make out two different sets. But unlike the last set of running feet, this one actually stopped at the door and yanked it open. To Artemis’s surprise, Lora was standing on the other side. Her Belvren was barely taller than her and looked like it was made out of some sort of pale rock. “Oh, thank the Divine,” she sighed as she looked between the three of them. “A man named Tolnoran said you would be here. He said to bring you all with.” Elias was out the door and down the hall with Trevak leading the way before Lora was done talking. She glanced at the man disappearing down the hallway as Artemis and Bethany stepped out of the room. “They’re needing all hands for this.”

Artemis touched Lora’s arm. “Stick with Beth for me, yeah?”

Lora gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Be careful.”

Dlmor’s form shifted at the edge of his vision as he returned the sharp nod. As Dlmor settled into something large enough to carry him and still run on all fours, Bethany pulled him into a tight hug. “Seriously. Please don’t do anything stupid.” She pulled back enough to cup his face in both hands. “Elias likes to talk about Ylmra and Walkers and their strengths but he forgets we’re still human, that we break.”

Her hands were warm under his as he wrapped his fingers around her palms. He gently tugged her hands from his face, giving them a squeeze as he did. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Bethany withdrew but not fully. She sent a glare at Dlmor. “Don’t you dare get him killed, Dlmor. I will end you myself if you do.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Artemis grabbed fistfuls of fur and hauled himself onto Dlmor’s back. The creature took off down the hallway before he was properly seated but he didn’t care. With his sister safe with someone he could trust - with nothing more distracting him from what he was rushing headlong into - the information from the Olnvorox came back to nip at him, bringing with it a rising fear that wanted to choke him.
“Artemis.”

“I’m ok,” he assured Dlmor. “Just...worried.”

Dlmor chuckled. “Aren’t we all?”

A sharp turn and suddenly they were in the midst of whatever was happening. Trevak was massive, hissing and snapping as it used its tail to throw people and creatures back. Elias was nowhere to be seen, not that the chaos of bodies made finding anyone easy.

He gained the urge to go fight, to join in, but he gripped at Dlmor’s fur, urging, “No. We have to find the Olnvorox.” Dlmor sidestepped an incoming body. “If we don’t, then fighting will be useless.”

“Then where to?” Dlmor growled.

“Find the starting point. We’ll go from there.”

Dlmor took off through the chaos, weaving this way and that as Artemis’s head whipped around this way and that frantically searching for any sign of the things that were causing all of this.

But trying to traverse quickly through a space that was not meant to be fought in rapidly turned into a nearly impossible task. Several times Dlmor was forced to stop because someone got in the way or something attacked them. After the second attempted attack, Artemis asked sharply, “Aren’t I supposed to be able to pull a weapon or something from you like I had back at the cabin?”

He blinked as the information was shoved on him. With it came Dlmor’s own frustration with the situation - and the underlying fear that was growing despite Dlmor’s attempts to ignore it. But now he could do something. Now he could actually help with the innumerable obstacles that kept getting in their way. He pressed his open palm to Dlmor’s shoulder and utilized the information he now had. He focused on the silver strands, focused his intent for something to fight with - something he could throw or batter people back with, be it spear or staff - and watched as the silver strands seemed to light up with a white light. He pulled his hand back slowly, watching as a spear with a brilliantly silver point materialized against his palm. It behaved oddly fluid until it was fully removed. He shook it and it snapped straight. The pole was a dark wood, almost black. He felt clumsy with it in hand but Dlmor pushed more information at him and his hand settled more surely around the pole.

A headache started to form. Beyond a brief awareness of it, he ignored and forgot about it as Dlmor whipped around anticipating another attack. He brought the spear around, catching a creature he had never seen before in the chest and throwing it back. The silver point sliced across the creature’s chest. The creature screamed but no blood fell.

“They’re oddly similar to the Olnvorox,” he commented, flabbergasted. He held on tight as Dlmor lurched forward and took the opportunity to bury the spearhead into one of the creatures trying to rip at a human. The creature screeched as its form disintegrated into smoke.

“They might, but they’re not,” Dlmor ground out. “These little shits are Ilnu. Intelligent enough to get into trouble, dumb enough to follow whoever pulls their strings without a care of what they are asked to do.”

He smacked two such creatures back. “They shadows or something? They don’t seem to have a core.”

“Oh, they have one but they also have this nasty habit of teleporting away as soon as they’re injured and it makes it really difficult to tell if you killed it or not without seeing the core.”

He blocked one that jumped at his head with both hands on his spear. Dlmor stopped under him, jerking back in an attempt to give him some support. It worked in the sense that it set him up to absorb the second impact on the spear. He threw the things to the side before burying the point of the spear in one of the creatures. It gave a screech and still disintegrated into smoke but there was something different about it this time.

It looked like a pearl was pinned by the point of the spear from where he sat. Dlmor turned abruptly and the motion forced the spearhead from the odd pearl. Dlmor snatched it up and crunched it, sounding oddly like Dlmor was chewing on an ice cube.

It drew the attention of every single Ilnu he could see. Rage filled those small faces and they moved to swarm.

“Dlmor!” was the only thing he managed as a warning. He brought the spear up as Dlmor reared back.

A massive blur of color shot past them barely a breath away from Dlmor’s raised claws. He caught sight of the rainbow wings as he heard more crunching. The cluster of creatures screamed, as did more that had heard the crunching, and he felt Dlmor’s front paws hit the ground again. “Krevak!” he called out in a panic. “Dlmor!”

“Already on it!”

The creatures were faster than Dlmor, or maybe it was simply the Ilnu happened to be closer, and desperation shot through him as he realized they weren’t going to make it in time.

Elias’s scream cut through the noise of the room. It was full of some fear that Artemis didn’t know, some desperation he only had a glimpse of. That scream - Trevak’s name flying off the man’s tongue full of emotion - cut through him as if it was an attack from an Olnvorox. Thought stopped. The desperation slipped away. It was like someone had removed a veil from his mind and he could not only think clearly, he was able to see what was going on, how it would happen, and strategize.

The spear splintered in his hand, shattered in a way that gave him many sharp, small projectiles to work with. They floated in the air at his command, the line stretching out and around behind his back, all the points aimed at the Ilnu looking to attack Trevak.

For a split second, he feared he didn’t make enough or that he had made too many and he would end up killing someone by accident.

He threw the hand that had been holding the spear at his side forward.

The many projectiles shot off ahead like thin, elongated bullets with precise accuracy. It turned into a wave of Ilnu bursting into smoke, cores punctured through the middle where the projectiles had gone cleanly through.

He didn’t hear the soft clinking of the cores hitting the floor sounding and behaving like glass marbles. He didn’t register Dlmor’s abrupt change in direction, didn’t register how Dlmor, Trevak, and numerous other companions made quick work of shattering the cores completely with their teeth to make sure the Ilnu weren’t coming back.

What he did register was the shape at the edge of the chaos, the one lone shadow that grinned at him when it met his eyes. What he did hear was its voice in his head as he held its gaze, felt its claws on his brain despite the distance between them, and understood just how dangerous the Olnvorox truly were when several people moved through it like it didn’t exist. They barely blinked an eye at it and even those he somehow knew were like him, were Ylmra, didn’t even see it.

Dlmor shifted under him and he blinked, finding himself staring at empty space a good hundred feet away. He pulled a sharp breath through clenched teeth when pain shot through his head too strongly for him to ignore. There may have been a call of his name but he could have been hearing things. The only thing he knew was the pain splitting his head in two.

Someone was trying to get his attention. How, why, and who he didn’t know. The only reason why he knew there was even an attempt was because the headache flared and hands were on him. Something warm and soft pressed into his chest, his face, and he wrapped his arms around it, burying his face into what had to be fur.

The darkness helped and he sagged into the warm, fluffy thing. It took a minute for his brain to start processing words right.

“-there. Not even chef.” There was a noise that cut in just right to muddle the last of the sentence.

“If it means we get everyone to some semblance of safety, I don’t care.” Not chef. Chief. “The hierarchy of rank can kiss my ass for all I care at this point.”

“Only if I go with you.” Three people, then? “I’m not risking you and Trevan facing those things on your own again.” Tolnoran. Which meant-

“It’s not like I can stop you,” the second voice countered. Elias. There was movement before Elias spoke again, his voice farther away. “Cass?”

The first voice spoke up. “I’ll see what I can do but I still say you should take him with.”

“Not when he’s injured again,” Elais countered sharply. “He’ll be of no use if we run into trouble rounding everyone up.”

“You’re not wrong,” Cass ceded, “but he’ll be safer with you two and out here. If nothing else, Torra can tote him around till his Dlmor is able to take him.”

“Come on, Eli,” Tolnoran gently coaxed. “Bethany isn’t able to do anything for him and neither are those friends of theirs. You went up against the Walker yourself.”

“Taking him with will only put the rest of the compound in danger,” Elias shot back. “We can’t.”

“Elias,” Tolnoran tried again.

Artemis didn’t realize he even had the ability to talk until the words were beyond his lips. “You can leave my dead weight here, ya know,” he pointed out, the words slightly slurred together due to his fat tongue. Or maybe it only felt fat. “I can go back to sleep right here.”

A hand carded through his hair. It was unfamiliar and by the proximity of Cass’s voice, he assumed it was her touching his head. “Hey, none of that. If you’re awake, you have to stay awake. A healer hasn’t gotten the chance to make sure you’re safe to sleep more.”

He tried for a lopsided grin; it felt more like a grimace. “Pity. Could really use some more sleep.”

He moved to sit up as he finally opened his eyes. Both tasks were made arduous from the lack of strength to move the lead limbs he now had. Still, he managed to get himself sitting mostly upright. It took longer for his eyes to focus. “Where’s Dlmor?”

“Here,” Tolnoran spoke up, moving somewhere behind him. There was some sounds but Artemis couldn’t get his head to turn enough to see. Tolnoran made it so he didn’t have to by stepping around him and gently laying Dlmor’s body next to him. The creature’s form was back to the smaller form but it was more bipedal than the quad Dlmor had been in moments ago. He frowned, running his hand through the fur. The silver strands he touched seemed to sparkle more but that was probably a trick of his pained head. “How long was I out?”

“Actually unconscious or memory loss?” Elias put in. The man had yet to step into his line of sight.

“Both.”

“The last thing you remember.”

A silence stretched over them as he got his brain to start working. It was slow going and even just taking in a slow deep breath seemed to make his head pound worse. “Mostly vague things. The sound of ice being crunched. White…marble beads will holes through the center hitting the floor. A…” he frowned, “a confusion just before my head felt like it was being ripped in two.”

“No memory loss, then,” Elias assured him in rigid voice. “You passed out shortly after the cluster of Ilnu going after Trevak were dealt with. A good twenty minutes has probably passed if we’re lucky.”

He frowned at that. It was nice that the only thing that protested at him looking to Elias was the headache. It hopped right to the edge of being unbearable but he ignored it. “Lucky,” he parroted. The pain was making it hard for him to put his question to words.

Elias gave him a flat look. Oddly enough he could make out the exhausted relief and pained concern at the edge of the man’s expression. “You are in more need than a simple power nap. Should a healer get their hands on you, you would be bedridden and asleep by the time Tolnoran and I even started on the task before us.”
He looked to Cass. “So why send me along?”

Cass glanced at the other two men, visibly confused. “Are you sure he doesn’t have memory loss?” She looked at him again before they could answer. “Do you not remember what you did?”

Was this a trick question? “What do you mean?”

“You took out the majority of the Ilnu in a show of crafting that I have never seen and that hasn’t been seen in generations.”

His gaze snapped to Elias and gained a sharp pulse of pain for his endeavor. The man’s expression tightened. “She’s not lying. I only know two other people that can levitate their creations but neither of them can handle more than three let alone throw them without actually touching them with such pinpoint accuracy.”

It was like trying to recall a half remembered dream. He remembered the spear he had summoned and he could recall what he knew now were the cores of all the Ilnu being pierced by the things he had crafted but anything around that wouldn’t stick. There was the faint echo of worry - of not having made the right amount - but he couldn’t remember how to replicate whatever it was that he had done. He looked back to Cass, stating as much. “I don’t know how I did that, Ma’am, much less replicating the action.”

She shook her head. “Even if it was a one off thing, you’ll be of more use with them than with me.”

He looked down at Dlmor finding that he had been running his fingers through the long fur at the back of its neck without realizing it. “Is that why Dlmor’s out for the count?”

Elias let out a sigh that was almost a growl. “After the number of cores they consumed? Not a chance. Why and how they are unconscious is still to be determined.”

He frowned, turning his gaze back to Elias. “So there could be something seriously wrong with it?”

Cass placed a hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention. “There’s probably nothing wrong. They’re probably just tired.”

“Come on, Cass,” Tolnoran cut in, expression pained. “Don’t lie to him like that.”

“How am I lying?” Cass challenged, flabbergasted. He let his gaze drift from the older adults down to Dlmor, running his hand over the creature’s head, rubbing at an ear. “The Dlmor really could just be exhausted. I don’t know any creature that can sustain that kind of creation without passing out, core consumption aside.”

“But the core consumption would have kept them awake regardless,” Elias replied, words sharp.

That was the last of the conversation he registered. Exhaustion pulled at his every being in a way he was not familiar with. There was a weight there that pressed on his shoulders and on his chest that seemed unrelenting. He curled forward, wrapping his arms around Dlmor.

It dawned on him a minute or so later that it was from Transference. The exhaustion, the unrelenting weight, all of it was from Dlmor. Or, well, the worst of it was. A strange determination that was all his own filled him as he sat up enough to run his hands down Dlmor’s body from snout to tail tip. He didn’t gain a physical response but the Transference stopped. The weight of it all didn’t really leave and he still felt rather exhausted, but it didn’t feel like he needed to sleep for three days straight anymore.

“So why are we in the middle of a battlefield waiting for a healer instead of moving to some room?” Whatever argument they had settled into stopped abruptly at his words. He brought his gaze up, looking at each of them in turn. “Weren’t there more Ilnu anyways?”

Elias came out of his stupore first. “What remained of the Ilnu have fled further into the compound making what had been a clear cut fight into some twisted game of hide-and-seek.” The man’s gaze fell away. “Moving you, on the other hand...”

For a moment, he expected it to just be left at that but Tolnoran took over. “It wasn’t an option. You hit the ground screaming. None of the creatures would let anyone close.”

Confusion shot through him. “What? Why?”

“We’re not sure.” Elias met his gaze again gesturing to what he now realized was Trevak’s body. “I couldn’t even get Trevak to unwind from around you. We had to climb over it to even get in here.”

He looked up, noticing that there was a wing stretched over their heads.

“Ylse bolted from me as soon as the scream made it to us,” Tolnoran offered, voice low and heavy with confusion. “I’ve never had them ignore an order to return like that before.”

“Chief can’t even get in here,” Cass added. She shrugged when he looked at her. “Elias’s Tor is a stubborn one but whatever’s got the creatures all guarding you’s got Chief ignoring my directions to even try and get over the Tor.”

He frowned, looking down at Dlmor; conversation started back up over his head almost immediately with Elias making some comment. Dlmor was watching him, eyes half lidded and still limp in his lap. He ran his hand over Dlmor’s head, curious if Dlmor knew what had happened.

The wariness and the push back of telling him washed over him but the exhaustion and pain that came with it was suffocating. He gained a much gentler brush of an apology and a reiterated wariness.

But he wanted to know. If it was something serious, they needed to know. Or, at minimum, it was something he had to be aware of.

He watched Dlmor’s side rise with the heavy sigh as the creature - surprisingly - gave in.

For a second he didn’t understand. He blinked a few times before his brain seemed to decipher what he was seeing. He watched as Ilnu forms turned to smoke.

The cores bouncing off of the floor and any other surface they hit sounded like little bells perfectly pitched to resonate deep in his chest. Something primal rolled through him and all he could focus on was getting to as many of the freed cores as he could manage. Biting through each one sent a thrill of power down his back that was addictive and he started hunting harder so as not to miss any.

There was a whisper in his mind that this wasn’t right, that the draw for the cores was wrong. The power ripple was too strong. There was something wrong.

A scream filled the air, filled his head, and the primal drive was immediately replaced with one far more powerful. He turned, the desire to protect and defend coaxing his body into a shape that was stronger, that was faster.

His gaze landed on something that sent a chill down his spine that turned his veins to ice. A creature he had only seen once before but knew instinctively was standing over a human body - the same human body that was screaming. The creature turned its head slowly before locking its gaze on him. Excruciating pain bit into his mind and he lost hold on the stronger form. With a snarl, he kicked off the ground despite the pain and launched himself towards the creature. He had to protect the screaming human. He had to protect them from the Olnvorox.

The creature swiped at him, throwing him into something solid. Pain flared in his side but it was nothing compared to his head. He pushed himself back onto his feet. Other creatures were coming to the human’s aid against the Olnvorox, attacking it - or at least trying to - but the thing only had eyes for him. Even as it batted the other creatures away, the creature kept staring at him, attacking him mind. So he held on and kept its focus. One of those that were on his side would manage enough damage to take the blasted thing out.

The assault on his mind suddenly ceased and he blinked his vision clear to see Trevak rip into the damn thing with half of it in its mouth. Trevak pulled back from an Olnvorox missing everything from the waist up. What remained turned to a strange sludge and splattered to the ground. Trevak opened its mouth, expelling the same strange sludge.

There wasn’t a core to be found.

Fear shot through him; he was sure it did for every creature there. A glance around - and a painful group Transference later - it was decided that the human had to be protected until one of the human helpers came and tended to the human’s injuries. Echoed in remnants of the Transference were concerns about him and a guttural fear of what a single Olnvorox meant for them all. He couldn’t respond, couldn’t send back that he didn’t matter as much as the human did. They all knew how important the human was. They had to protect the human even if it cost them their life.

The world slipped sideways and it jarred him back to his own body. There was a low roll of nausea but it was overshadowed by the throbbing headache and the sudden dread that filled him. Now outside of the memory he could distinguish the human as himself, could pull himself out of Dlmor’s experience enough to not be caught up in it, but he still felt the weight of the emotions, the different driven behaviors.

Elias’s words started to register in his ear. “… something from the Crell. The Kret? Sure, they’re stupid enough to force a cluster of Kret out of their home south. Wouldn’t surprise me. Even that scout that had the Olnvorox had called the cluster a trap.”

“But we still don’t know to what extent,” Tolnoran countered. “Corax won’t let any of his scouts delve deeper into the situation enough to know if there even is anything other than just the Crell and Kret to worry about.”

“Corax won’t have a choice,” Cass cut in, voice sharp and angry. “He may lay claim to the best scouts in the compound but he still answers to me. I’ll get the scouts we’ll need to delve deeper as well as the man power to keep them safe.” There was a pause, a rather significant one if he read the tension right around his pounding head. “Only one I trust to lead them, though, is you, Elias.”

Another pause before Elias muttered softly. “I can’t be in two places at once.”

“I’m not asking you to be. Escort Corax and his people back and you’ll leave from here. But I need Tolnoran to stay behind to help forces here.”

Tolnoran piped in. “Then what of Artemis?”

“He still goes with you.”

“To collect Corax, sure,” Elias spoke on the tail of her words. “But he stays here with Tolnoran when we return.”

“You can’t decide-”

“You’re already putting him out onto the field injured!” Elias barked. The rage coaxed Artemis’s head to come up and he looked over at the older man. No one even noticed his movement. “I am not taking him into hostile territory where his protection will be a scattering of people in the middle of a desert!”

Something dark and thin moved out of the corner of his and the terror that pulsed through him set every nerve on end. It drew Dlmor’s attention but all he got was a - painful - soft Transference of concerned inquiry. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to actually confirm what he had seen, but he knew if he didn’t look it would only make things worse. He could feel whatever it was standing so close behind him, he could almost feel it on his back. Whatever it was loomed over him.

Slowly - slower than he intended but couldn’t manage to do faster - he tipped his head back until he could make out the form standing over him. White eyes on a not so solid, shadow like form met his gaze. The mouth pulled apart into a too white toothy grin as it raised a claw filled hand.
That grin pulled unnaturally wide as the clawed hand came down.

He didn’t even get the chance to react. Dlmor was suddenly on two legs taking a swipe at the thing with its own clawed hand. The thing dodged, claws passing a hair’s breadth from his head, his back, and scraping against the floor. The thing seemed to laugh and panic filled his chest.

There was a blur of movement from the thing and pain shot through his entire body. He watched in disbelief as Dlmor was separated into several pieces before the form broke. Unlike the Ilnu, Dlmor’s body behaved more like putty and splattered on the ground without spraying everywhere. The substance was the same blue black as Dlmor’s fur and looked like it was filled with glitter. His eyes were immediately drawn to a point of light that was growing brighter. He recognized it as Dlmor’s core as the last of the substance slipped from its surface. It burned like a star in among the substance.

Terror shot him into a dive as the thing pulled its hand back for another attack. The ground bit into his chest, loose floor and chunks of concrete scraping at his skin and leaving abrasions and cuts, but his hands closed around the glowing core, moving it just enough that when the claws made contact, they buried themselves into his arms instead.

A cry of pain escaped him but it was a trained response rather than an actual response to pain. His arms were numb. He could barely feel the core in his hands let alone the claws buried in his forearms. The thing yanked its claws out. A moment later hands were pulling him up and out of something that felt and looked like soot.

The substance that had made Dlmor’s form had turned into something very similar to soot.

Something shot passed his face and his eyes came up to take in the scene. There were a scattering of creatures that had been shoved aside. The thing had an arm extended towards him, stretching past his face towards something he couldn’t see.

The grin on the thing’s face only grew and dread filled his veins. He slowly turned his head. Horror filled him as he realized that the thing had just impaled Tolnoran. He was sure there was screaming as the thing flexed its hand and tore Tolnoran apart. Something yanked on him, turning him away.

The pull, the movement drew his attention to Elias. The man was screaming but he couldn’t hear it. Rage and sorrow were evident in how the man stood, how the man barked something. Trevak shot past as a burr of colors. Time seemed to slow as Trevak’s mouth opened wide inches from the thing’s form.

He didn’t even see the other set of claws move until they were already on the other side of the Tor. All he saw was Trevak about to bite down on the thing, several lines appeared around Trevak’s head and neck as the other set of claws just appeared where they weren’t supposed to be, and then Trevak’s form gave out. He caught Elias collapsing out of the corner of his eye as Trevak’s form turned into something that was far more liquid than Dlmor’s. He spotted the core just as the thing swiped at it.

There was the faint sound of glass shattering as Trevak’s core shattered into many pieces.

A Jaun shot past, this one reminding him of a golden retriever with its golden fur and sections of long fur in the chest and along the tail. The Jaun was quick and vicious, moving in and attacking when other creatures were taken out. It only lasted for a second; the thing threw the Jaun into the wall before one of those clawed hands shot at him again. It wasn’t aimed at him and he realized it too late. He reached out like he could stop it but all he managed was getting his palm sliced as the claws bit into Cass. He looked away as soon as one of the claws went through her neck, his mind readily supplying the dismemberment he knew was coming. Instead, he turned his gaze on the Jaun, and watched as it staggered to its feet enough to look back towards him and Cass. There was regret, sorrow, and fear in the creature’s expression before its form gave out. The core shattered when it hit the ground.

It dawned on him that the Jaun was probably Cass’s Chief.

A streak of silver shot past his head and embedded itself into the thing’s shoulder. The thing recoiled from the impact but the grin on the thing’s face seemed to only grow. A creature he had never seen before shot past him, shaking the ground. It looked like a Belvren, but there was something off about it that he couldn’t quite place. Still, the new creature’s fist impacted the thing’s face, sending it flying down the hall.

Hands grabbed him, pulled at him, and he found himself being hurried along by his sister. Lora was barely a few paced behind where he had been standing loosing another silver arrow. The bow was far grander than the first time he had seen it where it had looked like nothing more than a shadow imitation of one. He only saw it for the short instance it took for him and his sister to run past but the bow looked complex and gorgeous. Wood intertwined with silver and crafted some complex design for the handle of the bow. The limps started out thick and complexly designed before thinning out into a single thin pull of silver that looked far too weak to be able to take the pull of the bowstring.

He was shoved on, his sister right beside him. They got barely ten good strides away from the mess before her body jerked forward beside him. The horror he was already feeling increased as he turned, catching sight of the claws protruding from her body in a line from her forehead down. The claws were yanked free and he instinctively reached out to catch her body.

He misstepped. That combined with her dead weight threw them both to the ground. Sorrow and grief started to build as he pulled her body close in a one arm hug, his other pinned against his chest where he still desperately clung to Dlmor’s core at the top of his sternum. He barely knew her, barely knew the person she had become, and all he could think about was how she had left her family behind to come save him and now those kids would never see their mommy again. The thought broke something in him and he pressed his face into her hair.

He couldn’t hear the scream he was letting out but he could feel it. He could feel how the air tore at his throat as he emptied his lungs. He could feel the pull on his face from his mouth opening as wide as it could, lips pulled back to keep teeth bared as he sucked in another lung full to scream again.

Hands pulled at him. They didn’t give him the chance to fight as they pulled him from the dead body. They didn’t give him a chance to retaliate as they tried to drag him away from danger. They didn’t give him a chance to even warn them before he was forced to watch claws dig into flesh over and over again. One human fell, then two, then another, and the creatures sent as interference never returned; their human companions collapsing dead when they’re eradicated. He turned in the midst of all of this to face the Olnvorox at the other end of the hallway. He could make out Lora’s lifeless body among the rubble. He couldn’t tell if the Olnvorox had gotten her or her companion first.

It met his gaze. The leisure grin on its face stretched unnaturally wide, mocking him as it gave a sharp sweep of its arm. The numerous creatures that were attacking all lost their forms, many of the cores already shattered before they even started to fall.

There was no stopping the Olnvorox and the thing was very aware of this. What he didn’t understand was why it was toying with him. Why was it keeping him alive when it killed without care.

The thing’s grin only grew more.

He realized it was toying with him, playing, and saving him for last.

Pain shot through his head, like something had landed a glancing blow against his brain. It sent a fog over his brain and blots of black filled his vision but he didn’t lose hold of the Olnvorox’s gaze.

He felt his lips separate, skin pulling and splitting in the action. The tip of his tongue brushed the roof of his tongue, the back of his teeth, his jaw working as he said something he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t tell if it was just one word or a string of them but the thing heard him and its eyes narrowed at him.

There was a burst of light from the hand clenched at his chest and echoes of burning pain raced down his arm. His spoke again as he held his closed fist out, fingers towards the ceiling, but the sounds he spoke never made it to his ears. The light from between his fingers intensified and the Olnvorox shifted its stance.

He opened his hand as he said one final thing.

A scream unlike anything he had ever heard filled the air and tore at his ears, at his mind, but he didn’t flinch. The core left his palm and some glowing form took shape around it. As the last of his vision went, he managed to witness the shape of light collide with the shadow that was the Olnvorox, phasing into the shadow before the Olnvorox’s form stuttered and exploded into a shower of sparks and glittering dust. The glowing form faded and through the haze of black encroaching on his vision, he thought he saw the glowing core shatter against the ground.

“Artemis.”

He opened his eyes as breath filled his chest. Elias’s worried face came into focus, the man’s hands wrapped around the base of his skull supporting his head. Confusion swam through him even as he reached up and grabbed at the front of Elias’s shirt with a trembling hand. “You’re ok,” Elias assured him in a soft voice. “I’ve got you.”

The weight on his chest shifted and his other hand came up finding familiar fur under his fingers when he went to touch his chest. Dlmor pressed its nose into his arm, a keen whine escaping.

Elias’s thumb rubbed at the side of his neck and skull. “You’re ok,” he repeated. “You’re safe.”

“Well, as safe as one can be with Olnvorox running around,” Cass commented somewhere off near his left foot.

“We don’t know if it’s more than one,” Tolnoran berated from somewhere behind Elias on his right.

A scowl crossed Elias’s face before the man looked over his shoulder at the other two. “Will the two of you stop arguing long enough for me to make sure Artemis is alright?” Silence followed the man’s words. It seemed to be enough because Elias turned back to him. “Artemis?”

“Whu…” he started but the word caught in his dry throat. He swallowed and tried again. “What happened?”

“You passed out,” Elias informed him, “but your Dlmor acted as if you had been attacked.”

The flickering memory of the Olnvorox standing over him but there were two versions of the same memory: the one that was the stronger of Dlmor attacking the Olnvorox before the thing could touch him, the weaker being of the thing’s hand touching him without slicing into him. The weaker memory left him with the impression the Olnvorox had closed its hand around his mind. It sent a shudder down his spine. “I-I was attacked, I think.” Neither memory seemed overly solid, though, leaving the impression of a dream rather than reality. “It’s…I can’t really tell but during the dream-hallucination-whatever if it was, I was attacked.”
“By an Olnvorox?” Elias clarified.

“Buddy, you can’t be serious,” Cass cut in, her words wavering with the fear she was trying to hide. “How would an Olnvorox even get in here?”

“Does it matter?” he challenged, frustration blending with the echoes of emotions from whatever it was he lived through. He suddenly became aware of the headache that was pounding inside his skull. He closed his eyes against the pain, putting the weight of his head back into Elias’s palms. The man’s hands flexed against his neck and skull but took his weight with apparent ease. “It got in and it got its hands on me.” He opened his eyes only to meet his uncle’s gaze. “It toyed with me, killing everyone I knew and have come to know with such ease that it’s terrifying. The power these things have is terrifying. If an Olnvorox ever decided to actually take us out, this entire compound would be eradicated in a matter of minutes.” His breath shuddered in his chest but he couldn’t stop now. “The thing took everyone out, took people out by shattering their companion’s cores-” Elias flinched around him- “and all I could do was watch. Watch until…” He frowned. Strange. He couldn’t really remember what had actually changed. “Something happened. I can’t really remember what had changed but something did and I did something. The Olnvorox exploded.”

Dlmor shifted against his chest. “Exploded?”

He flinched from the pain but didn’t comment on it. He could live with the pain. “Yeah. It didn’t do the thing it had done when Trevak had bit it in half. It actually exploded, turned into dust or something and disintegrated.”

“So...does that mean it’s actually dead?”

The desire to say yes had him opening his mouth but his thoughts caught up with the action and he changed the words. “I don’t know. I’d be surprised if taking it out in the…the dream was enough.”

“But it’s not currently around?”

“No. Whatever Olnvorox attacked me - be it the one that Trevak had taken out or a new one - it didn’t stick around.”

Elias shifted above him. “Which means we don’t know how many we’re up against still.”

His uncle’s gaze wasn’t on him but he smiled weakly at that. “Unfortunately.”

“So what now, then?” Cass brought forward, her words tight even as her voice sounded tired.

“We could always go through with the initial plan,” Tolnoran suggested. “Get me and Elias out on the field if for nothing more than the incoming cluster.”

Elias’s gaze settled back on his face. “We’ll get you in a room and situated before we leave.”

He shook his head very carefully. “No. If there’s another one around and it decides to do anything, I’ll be weak against it. I have a headache that’s already trying to kill me and if one gets to me now, I doubt I’ll come out of it alive.”

Elias muttered a curse before looking towards where he assumed Cass was still located. “Can you find us a healer? We can’t wait anymore.”

“Sure. But you’ve got to get Trevak to move out of the way.”

He tightened his fist in Elias’s shirt, speaking up in his uncle’s stead. “Trevak. Ysle. Chief. I’m ok. You don’t have to protect me anymore.”

There had been a tension in the air he hadn’t noticed until it subsided after his words. What of Trevak’s form he could see started to move and shrink, the wing still stretched over their heads tucking close to the serpent’s body as it shrank rapidly. He heard other movement but the headache flared and he found his eyes closed against the pain.

He opened his eyes in time to see Cass’s outrage and disbelief as the Jaun that reminded him of a golden retriever sauntered up to her side, sat like a dog, and looking up at her, waiting. She masked most of it, leaving a confused and concerned expression on her face as she looked to Elias. The man shrugged over him. “We don’t even know what really happened, Cass. We barely know anything about the Olnvorox, let alone anything about any species from the Second Plane. At this point, it’s probably wise to just go with what is happening and ask questions about it later.

Cass looked down at the golden Jaun. “Right.” There was a pause as she stared at the patient creature. After a moment, she blinked and started in some direction. “Come on, Chief. Help me find a healer.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Eli?” Tolnoran inquired, coming closer.

“Dlmor, support him for me,” Elias directed instead of answering.

Dlmor moved off his torso, getting up onto four paws. The creature slipped under his shoulders and neck, the fur brushing against his bare neck when Elias withdrew his hands left his neck. He softly requested, “Dlmor, can you sit me up, please?”

“It doesn’t matter if this is a good idea or not,” Elias finally answered, facing Tolnoran. The larger man reached out to hold onto one of Elias’s hands, thumb rubbing the back of it. Elias’s hand gripped tightly around Tolnoran’s fingers. “Artemis cannot stay unprotected and, unfortunately, I don’t trust anyone else here.”

Dlmor got him sitting though he was still reclined. The creature was warm underneath him and he pressed his face into the soft fur at its neck, blocking out the light for a short while. He wasn’t sure if it made a difference but the warm fur against his face felt nice. Dlmor certainly smelt good even after everything.

“Artemis!” echoed in the hallway and he slowly pulled his face from Dlmor’s fur feeling more exhausted and not understanding why.

Dlmor informed him through Transference that he had started to doze as Elias and Tolnoran spoke together.

He caught sight of Elias leaning sideways into Tolnoran’s chest, the larger man’s arms slipping from around the other. Elias stood. Tolnoran helped him up before following after. Ysle pressed against the back of Tolnoran’s legs as Elias faced the person who had shouted for him. If he wasn’t mistaken, it had been…

“Bethany,” Elias spoke up as the sound of running feet became clear before slowing. “And the Walker that had fought alongside Artemis.”

Lora’s voice was crisp but polite, offering only, “Lora,” as Bethany came to a stop at Artemis’s knees.

“Elias,” the man offered in turn.

She leaned forward, hands burying themselves in his hair before running down his neck, shoulders, down his arms to squeeze at his hands. “Artemis, are you alright? We heard a commotion. Lora’s Ruhn went nuts to the point that it lost its mimic.”

What she said only made half sense. “What?”

A small creature looking deceptively like the Ilnu came scrambling over. It flung itself onto his left shin, hugging it tight before turning its large, yellow eyes on him.

Dlmor pushed the information towards him, though it skittered pain across his temples despite the care. Ruhn - which was somehow pronounced “rune” - were creatures that had the ability to mimic other creatures. He also received Dlmor’s memories of the interaction with Lora just before his uncle had shown up and took note of what Dlmor had noticed of the Belvren that had been standing behind Lora and the few details that gave the Ruhn away. Lora’s Ruhn was well versed in mimicry, though it was Dlmor’s impression that it was only with the Belvren form that this was accurate.

The thing that mattered to him was that Ruhn and Ilnu were indeed similar creatures. The difference was that Ruhn were generally smaller and were the only ones between the two types to have the mimic ability. Additionally, Ruhn were known to be far more wary when it came to following anyone’s orders compared to the mischievous Ilnu.

He was immensely grateful for Dlmor’s Transference ability. It made things so much easier to just know things instead of having to have someone explain it. “So this is Belvren, then?”

Bethany had been in the middle of wrangling the Ruhn off his leg when his words registered. She looked at him, eyes narrowing. The little Ruhn squirmed out of her hold and collided with his side. It didn’t have much force behind it but he still gave a soft, “Oof,” as he instinctively wrapped an arm around it. Dlmor pressed against his back to keep him mostly upright. The Ruhn buried its face into his chest, little hands clinging to his shirt. His sister gave him a narrowed look. “So you’ve met her Shadow, then.”

“Only once and I wasn’t able to actually see it at the time.” He looked down to the Ruhn gaining its large, yellow gaze. He offered it a soft smile as he rubbed the top of its head. “Thank you for coming and checking on me. Can you return to your Belvren mimic and go back to Lora for me?”

The Ruhn nodded and scrambled away, taking on the Belvren form he had briefly seen in the Olnvorox induced dream. They both watched it run off before Bethany spoke up. “I have never seen it not follow Lora’s commands before,” she offered, voice holding an odd distant sound to it. “I don’t think Lora’s ever experienced it either, though I’m not sure if she knew it was a Ruhn or not.”

He looked to her, curiosity and confusion pulling at his expression. “Wouldn’t she know?”

Bethany shrugged. “I think it would solely depend on what she had been taught and if her Ruhn never dropped its mimic, unless someone told her, I don’t think she would have known.”

“Could it be more she was trying to hide the truth?” Dlmor interjected.

He winced from the pain but his sister missed the reaction, much to his relief.

Bethany dismissed the suggestion. “I don’t know why you would hide something like that.”

“Ruhn are not a common creature to be bound to a Walker,” Dlmor pointed out.

Bethany frowned at the creature. “What do you mean?”

Dlmor gave her a flat look. “Do you even know what a Ruhn is?”

Bethany scoffed. “Of course.”

“Oh really?” A grin stretched across Dlmor’s face. “Tell me: why have the Ruhn counts gone down since the Dawning?”

“Enough,” Tolnoran directed gently, hand wrapping around Dlmor’s snout. The man sent the creature a disappointed frown. “Do not drill her, Dlmor, or there will be repercussions.”

Dlmor yanked its snout from Elias’s hand, snapping in turn, “Oh please. Like there’s anything you can do to me that will get me to stop.” Tolnoran’s Kret hissed, though it sounded more like air escaping a hose than a hiss to him. He missed the words if there had been any. It didn’t stop Dlmor from adding, “Want to try me, Kret? It’s been a long time since I’ve been up against one of you. I hear your Core can be quite decedent.”

“Dlmor,” he warned. It ducked its head immediately, looking at him as its long ears went back and pressed flat against its neck. “Enough. We’re all on edge. No need on making matters worse.” He ran his hand over the creature’s head, exhaustion making the limb heavy. “Besides, I would appreciate it if Torra actually survived all of this. Taking his Kret out is counterintuitive to that.”

“Of course,” Dlmor ceded.

The creature’s response rubbed him wrong but the headache wasn’t letting him handle more than one thought process at a time. He looked to Ylse. “Protect Tolnoran to the best of your ability. That means keeping yourself whole to the best of your abilities. Alright?”

The large, slightly stretched komodo dragon bowed its head from where it stood against the back of Tolnoran’s legs. A worried look crossed the man’s face as Tolnoran reached down and stroked down the Kret’s back. “It might be wise if you didn’t do that in front of others.”

The confusion that flittered through him was brief. He rubbed at his head. “I apologize. I’m doing it without realizing I have an ounce of power over any of them.” His hand fell back into his lap, heavy. His head was heavier but he managed to lean it back enough to meet Tolnoran’s gaze. “I’ll do what I can to keep the…commanding to a minimum.”
Tolnoran smiled at him. “That’s all we can ask.”

Elias approached, whatever conversation he had been having with Lora now over. Lora, for her part, gestured for Bethany as Artemis caught sight of Cass returning with the healer from before. Bethany left his side as he returned his attention to his uncle and Tolnoran.

“Tolnoran, is there any-”

The words stopped abruptly as Elias’s head snapped towards where Cass and the healer were coming from. Artemis followed his uncle’s attention with his own, finding Cass had stopped as well. The healer either hadn’t noticed whatever it was that had grabbed Cass and Elias’s attention or hadn’t cared much about it. The healer knelt beside him but didn’t say anything. Maybe he misjudged the healer’s take on the situation.

His gaze snapped away from the healer as he heard the faint echo of something that sounded oddly like-

“Was that gunfire?” Bethany whispered.

Dlmor growled low under him as he watched Belvren take a step in front of Lora and his sister.

“What the hell are those idiots doing?” Cass snapped, though the volume of her voice wasn’t much louder than what Bethany’s had been.

“Cass,” Elias spoke up among more echoes of gunshots. “Where is Leader Fox?”

She looked back at him, a new touch of confusion pulling at her expression. “Council last I heard. Why?”

“Is he aware of Artemis?”

At first, she didn’t react but from one moment to the next, she lost the color in her face. “You don’t think…”

“If word of what Artemis has done has reached him, I wouldn’t be surprised.” The man’s gaze narrowed. “Not that it explains the gunshots.”

“Uncle?” Bethany called out, the man’s title drawn out and tight with accusation and worry.

“Tolnoran.”

The man was already moving to Artemis’s side. “Already on it.” Tolnoran knelt at his side, arms slipping under him as the man looked to the healer. “Follow quick and quiet. We have to hide.”

“Of course,” the healer spoke, their expression determined. Their words were so soft, he would not have been surprised if Tolnoran had simply assumed what they had said.

Tolnoran picked him up, pinning him to the man’s broad chest. Dlmor shifted into a smaller, lanky form that reminded him of the Cyor lacking the second set of paws before scaling Tolnoran to curl on Artemis’s chest. He covered the small ball of fur and noted that despite the position reminding him of a creature hiding from danger, Dlmor’s eyes were open wide with its gaze out on the hallway as Tolnoran turned.

The gunshots were getting louder.

“Elias, what’s going on,” Bethany demanded, her words wavering around the edge. “Where is he taking Artemis?”

“Bethany, go with them.”

“No! What’s going on?!”

Whatever his uncle’s response was, it was too quiet for him to hear. Shouting started to be heard under the gun fire even as Tolnoran rounded a corner and left the hallway behind. He held Dlmor close. Tolnoran was being incredibly careful but the movement still agitated his head that by the time Tolnoran slipped into some room and there was the sound of a door closing, he was fighting the urge to vomit as his head tried to murder him.

The healer’s voice drifted into his awareness. “This isn’t good. Set them down over here.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Tolnoran asked, his voice low and sounding a bit strained to Artemis.

“Not sure.”

He was laid down on some flat surface but his head was cushioned by something soft. For a long moment there was nothing but silence outside the collective breathings. Not that he was completely aware of his surroundings after the first stretch of silence. Dlmor shifted on his chest, drawing his attention back to the world around him. The gentle Transference agitated the low level headache he had but he appreciated being told that he had dozed off again. There wasn’t much concern in the Transference. Instead, he got some of Dlmor’s exhaustion. He rubbed at the fur under his hand.

“What of the other two?” the healer asked in a soft whisper.

Another gentle Transference; if it had any effect on his headache, it was too slight for him to notice. Bethany and Lora had arrived quietly a few minutes prior. Artemis was impressed Bethany hadn’t immediately demanded his attention upon arrival.

She had wanted to but whatever had spooked them into hiding had startled her into silence. That pulled concern out of his chest but Dlmor didn’t know the answer to his unasked question. Neither woman spoke about what they had seen.

“Ysle is still in the hallway. They’ll show them where to go when they get close.”

He wondered if the “if” was implied or if he was the only one to think it.

Something started scratching at the door. Or, at least, he thought it was the door. He opened his eyes into the mostly dark room as Dlmor got off his chest. There was some sort of light source but it took a long minute before he realized it was Dlmor and not some normal light source. He heard Tolnoran mutter, “Thank you, Dlmor,” before he heard the door click open.

There was the sound of a brief scuffle and something squeaked. He sat up slowly, carefully, finding himself on top of a table. By the time he got his gaze on the door, it was closed. Dlmor had something pinned, teeth clamped around its throat. He noticed the healer putting a hand on his shoulder but they didn’t coax him to lay back down. It almost felt like they were using him as their lifeline, though he couldn’t figure out why it felt that way.

Dlmor’s fur was as dark as the rest of the room but the individual strands that peppered it like glitter were glowing. It looked like the portion of the night sky had been molded into some vague creature shape. Gone were the dark blue eyes replaced by eyes the same strange every-color silver as the fur strands that now looked like stars. The majority of the light coming from Dlmor were coming from its eyes as if each eyes was a full moon in that molded night.

“What is it?” Lora asked the poorly lit room. Whatever creature Dlmor had pinned was obscured by Dlmor’s body.

“It looked like a Cyor,” Tolnoran offered, “but I’m not sure. Dlmor?”

“It’s a Ruhn mimicking a Cyor,” Dlmor growled. “And no, I am not letting it go. Not until Artemis gets over here.”

The downside to those every-color silver eyes was the lack of pupils so if Dlmor was focused on him, he had no idea. Still, he moved to the edge of the table and dropped his legs over the edge. The healer gave his shoulder a brief squeeze, offering in a soft, “Go slowly,” before withdrawing.

His legs took his weight without any trouble.

The floor was cold against his bare feet and for the short stretch between the table and Dlmor he wondered where his shoes had gone. He had been wearing shoes, right? No, maybe he hadn’t been. He couldn’t remember as he knelt beside Dlmor. Dlmor growled, though whether at him or the Ruhn was beyond him. He ran a hand over Dlmor’s head before tracing the creature’s snout down to the Ruhn. It was still holding its mimic when his hand settled against some portion of it. The creature flinched under his touch and he felt Dlmor press against it more. Without thinking, his other hand pressed into Dlmor’s jaw on a point he swore he hadn’t known about that made the creature release the Ruhn.

Dlmor whined as the Ruhn made a mad dash for safety.

His hand closed around it in a sure but painless grip as something fell off his tongue. He didn’t register what it had been but he had felt his mouth move with it. The Ruhn immediately pressed into the floor dropping its mimic. Oddly enough, out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Dlmor pressing into the floor as well. It made the desire to know what he had said flare but Dlmor either didn’t hear that desire or chose not to share it.

“Dlmor,” he spoke up instead, not up to dealing with that until things were calmer, “you can speak with the assorted creatures, right?”

Dlmor caught on to the purpose behind his question. “What do you want to know?”

“Why it tried to get in here and if it was sent by anyone specific.” The slight frown on his face deepened. “And if it’s seen any Olnvorox.”

Even with those eyes lacking visible pupils he could tell Dlmor’s gaze flickered up to him before focusing on the Ruhn. The Ruhn started to struggle in his hold for a good minute before calming, though tremors coursed through its body. Dlmor sat back, a frown on its dark face.

“Well?” Tolnoran asked in his stead.

“It is not every day you run into two Bound Ruhn in one day,” Dlmor offered as a starter. “It’s Bound to the healer here. An Olnvorox had caught it briefly, disrupting its connection to the healer.” Dlmor’s attention was on him again as he let the Ruhn go. “Though, whether it is a different one or the one you killed, I’m not sure.”

“Trill,” the healer spoke out as they scooped up the now Cyor Ruhn and hugged it tight to their chest. “Oh, Divine, am I glad you’re ok.”

Dlmor turned its gaze to the healer. “If it helps, they’re safe. Someone the Ruhn notes as family is with them.”

He could barely make out the healer nodding in response. Tolnoran turned a frown onto the healer. “I thought you were Boundless.”

The healer shook their head. “No, not Boundless. Trill usually stays with my kid siblings as a pseudo babysitter. They don’t really need Trill to be there - they’re good kids, able to keep out of trouble - but it’s easier knowing that Trill’s there in case something does go wrong and I can do my work easily enough without Trill there.”

“How young? Your siblings.”

The healer glanced at Tolnoran before curling more around Trill. “Six and nine.”

Confusion flashed across Tolnoran’s face. “And what of your parents?”

A dark look flashed across the healer’s face as they met the man’s gaze. “Not everything is sunshine and roses, Sir. Some of us here are here because we have no other choice.”

He half expected Tolnoran to push but whether the man had planned to or not was disrupted, though by what was unclear as the man turned and opened the door without prompting. He caught the look of determined panic on the man’s face before it was obscured by the door. As soon as the door was open wide enough, Ysle came dashing in followed quickly by Cass and Elias. Tolnoran’s hands were immediately on Elias pulling the smaller man’s weight off of Cass as Chief shouldered the door closed. Both Lora and Bethany got to their feet at the sight of the new arrivals. Dlmor pressed into his side, once again the size he was used to. He buried his fingers into the long fur at the back of the creature’s neck, oddly numb to the whole ordeal before him.

“What happened?” Tolnoran softly demanded, half guiding, half dragging Elias farther into the room and sitting him against the wall. The healer knelt beside the smaller man, checking the massive injury on Elias’s side where the man was pinning a bundle of some dark fabric.

“Crell,” Cass spat. “They’ve gotten in and we’re not sure how. On top of that, Elias’s suspicions around Leader Fox was right: he wasn’t part of the initial gunfire we heard but he’s got a call out for Artemis’s head.” She glanced at him. “Sorry kid.”

He shook his head as Chief nosed his free hand. He rubbed the Jaun’s head. “Why does he want my head?”

“Someone who can control Second Plane creatures that isn’t under his control is a threat to him,” Elias ground out. The man sucked in a breath from something healer did but barely seemed to notice he had done so, continuing, “He’ll make sure you can’t be captured and used against us if he can’t have you under his thumb.”
“Which means we can’t trust anyone we run into to not turn on you, or give you up to Leader Fox,” Cass added tartly. She looked between the two older men. “There is no way we’re going to get you out onto the field to cut off the incoming Kret. Especially not now that you’re injured.”

Elias glared at her. “I don’t care if we’re stuck behind lines but someone has to go out there and cut the Kret off especially if the Crell are within our walls.” The man winced but kept talking. “Make sure someone - a good, solid team - gets sent out there, Cass. If you don’t, the Crell will overtake us because of the Kret inadvertently helping.”

“I can still take a team out, Cass,” Tolnoran offered softly. “I can take Artemis with me out of any hands that could be working for Fox.”

“I can go with,” the healer offered, gaining a surprised look from the three soldiers. “Once I have him stable, there will be no reason for me to stick around. I could send in one of the people I trust in case you do have to move.”

“Who?” Elias asked.

“Hylin.”

He could make out the impressed look on Tolnoran’s expression from here. “That’s one of the newer recruits, isn’t it?”

The healer nodded. “He’s very good at what he does and is very trustworthy. I’ve worked with him before. He’ll make sure the Captain doesn’t bleed out should you need to move and that way you have a trusted healer with you.”

“Get Hylin here” Elias softly ordered. Trill hopped off of the healer’s shoulders and bounded for the door. Ysle followed after as Elias continued, “Once he’s here, head out with Tolnoran and Artemis.”

The door closed behind Trill and Ysle.

“What of Beth and Lora?” he piped in, gaining some of their attention.

“Staying with us,” Cass put in. “They’ll be safer here and we could use the spare hands anyways.”

Bethany nodded sedately as Lora offered, “I’m ok with that.”

“Do you know how long it will be before Trill returns with Hylin?” Elias asked, returning his attention to the healer.

Silence met his answer but there was a pause in it, a stretch of patience that held well. “Trill saw him on their way here. If he hasn’t moved far from the original location, a few minutes.”

Tolnoran perked up at that. “Your connection is back, then?”

The healer nodded. “Was the moment I had Trill in my arms.” A thoughtful look crossed their face. “It was weird, though. I hadn’t even realized it had been severed until Trill was in the room.”

“It’s holding, though, right?” Cass interjected, concerned.

“No interruption in it yet,” the healer confirmed. “Trill’s currently taking a shortcut on the off chance Hylin was where he had been last.”

Elias looked to Tolnoran. “What of Ysle?”

“In the hall keeping watch.” Tolnoran’s expression tightened. “Where’s Trevak?”

Elias moved his good hand up to tug at something loose around his neck. “Never have I been so grateful for their ability to manipulate their shape. Trevak’s been a leather cord around my neck safe under my shirt once it was too dangerous for them to be out.”

In the minimal light, it looked like nothing more than a leather cord as Elias had described. But even in the minimal light and some distance away, he could still make out the leather cord moving. It was mildly off putting.

Tolnoran reached out, running careful fingers over the small Trevak as Elias continued, “I hadn’t wanted to risk their ability of getting us out of there quickly with them getting shot. Not when I had already compromised the both of us from the initial volley.”

Cass scoffed. “You shouldn’t have shoved me. I would have been fine and your Tor would have taken out the majority of the Crell in a single hit.”

Elias shook his head. “There were Bound in among their ranks. Serious ones. Trevak would have just provoked more chaos.”

“There were other Tor?” Tolnoran inquired so softly, Artemis barely pieced together what he had said despite the few feet between him and the huddled group.

“Three, that I saw,” Elias ground out, wincing from something the healer was doing. Their body obscured what little Artemis would have seen of it. Dlmor slipped out from under his touch and wandered over to the healer’s side. “Had I sent Trevak in, there was a high chance they weren’t coming back.” Closer now, the light it was giving off illuminated the healer’s grateful expression; he was certain it illuminated the wound as well. “Trevak may be able to hold their own but in close quarters with three others backed up by guns would have been a death sentence.”

The mini Trevak returned to its normal size as it moved onto Tolnoran’s arm. “I’m glad you didn’t risk it,” the larger man offered, spare hand burying into Elias’s hair. Tolnoran pressed his face into Elias’s hair, clearly careful with how he pulled on the injured man. Elias didn’t seem to care, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes.

Artemis’s attention drifted to Cass as she shifted her weight. “Still think it would have been fine.”

Elias chuckled, offering in turn, “You have never seen Tor have at each other in close quarters, have you, Cass?”

She gave him a dark look. “Seeing as you’re the only one Bound to one in the outpost, no. Most encounters I’ve seen you and Trevak take on have been out in the dunes and you two were able to handle far more of those, Bound or otherwise, with far more weapon fire to avoid.”

“That may be true,” Elias spoke, conceding, “but close quarters like the hallway with nowhere to hide or gain any distance means that we’re fighting with our backs against the wall. Belvren are more suited to that fighting style. As are Jaun and Kret, though I would suggest not letting Jaun or Kret into such a fight if there’s nothing in the way of the gunfire. At least Belvren can be built to take that kind of hit.”

“Elias,” he spoke out, gaining all of their attention. He caught the mild jump from both his sister and Cass, curious to know if it was more out of not remembering he had been there or the suddenness of the man’s name off his lips. “What of Dlmor and Ruhn?”

The man carefully shook his head. “They’re not common among the ranks enough to know their fighting skills well.” A thoughtful look crossed the man’s face. “Though, from what I have seen of yours specifically, Dlmor seem to fight similarly to Jaun and Kret - close, quick, and viciously - while also utilizing the same traits Tor or Belvren use when it comes to form manipulation. Again, from speculation, Dlmor seem able to shift from offensive to defensive without much trouble. Jaun and Kret, they are more offensive while Belvren and even Tor are used defensively. Tor can wreak havoc but in tight places like a hallway, it can be a hindrance.”

“And Ruhn?”

Elias sighed sharply and winced. “Ruhn are a different matter. I’ve never actually witnessed one in a fight that wasn’t holding a mimic.” The man looked to Lora. “Does yours fight differently than a normal Belvren?”

Lora shook her head. “I had inherited my Ruhn just before my older brother passed. I took over in his connection when I was too little to really understand it. It’s why I’ve just stuck with the name Belvren. Most people understand when I share how little I had been why I call it by its creature classification rather than a proper name without understanding it’s because my Bound is a Ruhn.”

Tolnoran straightened up. Trevak slid onto Elias’s shoulders as the larger man announced, “Trill is returning. Hylin is with them.”

Elias waved them off. “Get going you three. Before he catches sight of all of you.”

“I’m not done stabilizing you,” the healer countered sharply.

Elias gave them a flat look. “Hylin will be here in a matter of moments. And I’d much rather allow him the chance of blissful ignorance when it comes to Artemis’s whereabouts.”

Tolnoran stood, placing a hand on the healer’s shoulder. “Come on. You won’t win this argument.”

The healer huffed but got up. Dlmor trotted back over to Artemis’s side, slipping under his hand. He petted the top of the creature’s head as he started for the door.

The hallway beyond was just as dark as the room they had been in, barring the light coming from the end of the hallway on his right. The left was still pitch black.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Dlmor inquired, nuzzling against his palm as he tried to ignore the flare of a headache. It wasn’t bad but he hated the reminder it was there.

“We’ll see how difficult the terrain is,” he offered softly, starting down the left stretch of hallway just to get out of the doorway.

His hunch apparently had been right as Tolnoran gestured at the healer to follow Artemis’s lead. Artemis could barely make out Ysle at the other end of the hallway trotting towards them. Just beyond, a person stepped into the hallway following a little bounding form. The healer gently grabbed his arm and led the way, glancing back regularly.

They were well into the darkness of the hallway by the time the new person reached Tolnoran. There was some talking but none of the sound made it to them. The little bounding form continued into the shadows towards them and leapt at the healer once close enough. The healer wrapped their arms around the small form, face pressing into fur with a sigh of relief.

Tolnoran started for them, Ysle at Tolnoran’s side like Dlmor was at his. It wasn’t till Tolnoran was upon them that he realized Dlmor wasn’t giving off any significant light. Tolnoran’s entire being was dark; even the healer was shrouded in darkness standing up against Dlmor’s other side so close, they were almost brushing up against Artemis’s arm. “You two ready?” the man asked in a soft whisper.

“As ready as we can be,” he offered in turn.

Tolnoran nodded. “Then let’s be quick. Come on.”

The larger man took the lead, though where Ysle ended up walking was hard to tell. Artemis kept his hand on Dlmor. Whether the healer did as well or not, he couldn’t tell.

Dlmor pressed into his leg, forcing him to turn left without tripping over himself or the creature. The healer’s footfall followed with. Artemis could make out light some distance ahead of them. A gentle Transference told him this area was not normally this dark. Dlmor could tell the area was normally an active one to some extent and that the entire place being dark was unusual. It brought questions to Artemis’s lips but he didn’t ask them. For some reason, things seemed too dire at that point to speak up about them.

Something clanked before the sound of a door opening filled the hallway. “Come on. This way,” Tolnoran directed. “We have to go down two levels to get to the armory.”

He was marginally confused before Dlmor confirmed there was indeed a stairwell beyond the door Tolnoran had opened. For some reason, it was dark there too.

“This seems like a safety hazard,” he found himself commenting, hearing the door shut behind him as Dlmor stopped him at the top of the stairs. He knew it was the top, could almost see them, but he knew he shouldn’t. It was too dark.

“It is,” Tolnoran growled. “There should be emergency lights illuminating this at minimum. The Crell must have cut a line or one of the Ilnu.” There was a sigh of defeat. “Dlmor, do you mind giving us some light and leading the way? Artemis, keep to the right hand wall and follow it down four flights of stairs. There should be a nice large 2 on the door once you reach it.”

Artemis traded Dlmor sides, hand going to the wall rather than the railing. He got an odd sensation of curiosity but there were no real words to it, nothing of substance that he could infer Dlmor’s intent behind the Transference.

Dlmor started to glow again, looking like the night sky once more. They started down the stairs, steps echoing up and down the concrete tower as they went. After a moment, Artemis thought he was hearing something at the edge of the echoes as he let his hand skip over a door with a large yellow 3 spray painted onto it. It wasn’t till they made it to one landing before the landing that held the door they needed when he realized it was music.
His insides turned to ice as he jerked to a stop at the top of the last stretch of stairs. The healer stopped a breath away from his back.

“What is it?” Tolnoran asked, low voice cutting through the silence and carrying more than Artemis cared for.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered back as quietly as he could manage.

Silence answered him.

A silence filled with the faint sound of classical piece - something like Beethoven or Bach - playing over an old radio. It seemed to float towards him but whether from the door specifically or from somewhere below, he couldn’t tell.

The healer shifted their weight behind him. “Music?” they questioned, as if they couldn’t quite hear what he could.

“Sounds classical,” Tolnoran added before looking to Artemis. “What of it?”

A shiver of fear shot down his spine, his entire body quaking from it. “The first time I had heard that exact sound, some stranger walked out of a dense forest while camping with some friends to warn us about a storm at some ungodly hour in the morning. The second was when Elias came and got me, as he was breaking down the front door. Whatever that sound is, whatever its associated with, I have never seen nor understood why it was there.” He finally tore his gaze from the spray painted yellow 2 and sent a pleading look to Tolnoran. “I’m not crazy. Both of you can clearly hear it.”

Tolnoran gave him a serious look in turn. “I’m not doubting your experience, Artemis. Just not a hundred percent sure the fear is necessary.”

Dlmor growled. “I would take care around that sound, Tolnoran,” it warned, the growl at the back of its throat. “I was never able to see the cause of the sound either.”

Artemis wasn’t sure he was grateful or resentful when Tolnoran took Dlmor’s word over his.

It didn’t matter in the end. Tolnoran did what he needed the man to do: he took point. Artemis followed the man down the stairs leaving some distance between him and the man’s back. He stayed on the stairs, the healer at his back, as Tolnoran went to the door and carefully pulled it open.

They all blinked against the harsh light that poured in from the hallway. Artemis rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to stave off the shot of pain at the back of his eyes that made his head throb. Dlmor shifted under his hand, head pressing against his stomach as the soft Transference drifted around the pain. He wasn’t opposed to using Dlmor for his eyes as he had back at the cabin but he wanted to be able to see for himself what lay ahead of them.

The hallway beyond was quiet and it was easier to make out the classical music playing over an old radio was coming from deeper in the stairwell. Artemis found he had adapted to the light by the time he had lowered his hand from his eyes and quickly followed the healer out who had tailed Tolnoran. The hallway was equally deserted. Only two other people were in it outside their small group and both were already disappearing down some hallway or into some room by the time Artemis noticed them.

“This way,” Tolnoran ordered, taking off down the right hallway at a strong run.

Dlmor didn’t even give him the chance. The creature slipped out from under his hand only to slip between his legs and slide him onto the creature’s back. He felt Dlmor increase its size and adjust its shape until Artemis was able to lay along Dlmor’s back comfortably without threatening to fall off. The creature took off down the hallway, quickly catching up to Tolnoran. The healer - to Artemis’s surprise - was keeping pace with the soldier with apparent ease. He envied them on some level and rolled his eyes at the Transference he received. He knew he was in no condition to run. He pointed out rather amusedly that he hadn’t fought Dlmor when the creature had slipped him onto its back.

The brief Transference told him Dlmor had rolled its eyes at him in exasperated amusement.

Tolnoran ran them through the halls for quite a ways that by the time they made it to the armory Tolnoran had been talking about the healer was sucking in breaths like they couldn’t get enough oxygen. Tolnoran was breathing heavily but nothing compared to the healer. The man looped an arm around them and took the healer’s weight, directing, “Artemis, go with Ysle and tell Tucker - he’ll be the one Ysle presses into for rubs - tell Tucker that you need to be suited for scout work with extra defense. He should have what you need.”

Artemis slipped from Dlmor’s back with a nod as the creature returned to the size he was used to. Ysle had stopped at the junction of lockers and the turn of the wall ahead of them. He watched Tolnoran walk the healer towards a door on the left long enough to note where the two of them went before following after the Kret.

The turn of the wall only exposed more lockers. The pockets of lockers were shallow - only four lockers deep to its ten lockers wide - but there were a lot of them. He didn’t track how many they had passed but he guessed it had to have been close to ten before a pathway between two such pockets opened up and led into a new space. The lockers continued on beyond the pathway but Ysle turned onto it, padding along it until they entered the new space.

The new space was a room where the last had been a hallway, but the new space was clearly divided into areas. Ahead of them were what seemed to be more lockers but these had people at them pulling on armor or removing weapons and gear from a locker. These lockers were at least twice the size of the ones he had just walked by. Machinery moved along the high ceiling above the lockers.

Only a few personnel were finishing gearing up, the few stragglers clearly trying to finish quickly. Ysle ignored all of them and started for the left. Artemis couldn’t help but watch as they walked by.

He saw no creatures as they went.

The lockers ended at the start of a massive open space. The area was full of people lined up with weapons in hand waiting. Ysle started into the area sending cold dread through Artemis. He looked like shit - he had to in the outfit from the medical ward and with no shoes on - and yet here he was parading into the open space as if it didn’t matter, as if this was completely normal.

There were creatures here next to their Bound and every set of eyes was on him. What chatter had been happening in the space echoing back from the high ceiling quickly quieted as he followed Ysle across the floor to one of the men standing apart from the large group. Dlmor bumped up against his leg, offering him some comfort through a soft Transference.

He appreciated the effort but it didn’t do much to calm his agitation.

Ysle pressed into one of the men’s knees, a man at the heart of the group. “Hey, Ysles,” the man offered happily, leaning over to rub at the Kret that had pressed the length of its body against the man’s shins like a happy dog looking for pets. “Where’s Tolnoran?” The man’s gaze landed on him and he tried not to shrink back from the searching gaze that landed on him. “And who’s the Ylmra?”

“Artemis Lorncroft,” he offered at Dlmor’s direction. “Tolnoran said to find Tucker and tell him that I need to be suited for scout work with extra defense.”

Both of Tucker’s eyebrows rose at that. The man straightened, glancing at what Artemis was assuming - and Dlmor confirmed - were the other ranked officers. “Alright,” the man offered, a confused frown on his face. “Follow me.”

Artemis fell into step after the man, Ysle pressing in at Artemis’s other leg. The Kret’s shoulders were too low for him to touch.

They went back the way Artemis had come from but instead of turning right once they were in the hallway of lockers again, the man turned left. The end of the space was only two pockets of lockers long and the man stepped into the last pocket, going right for one of the lockers. “Strip so that I can make sure this’ll fit,” the man directed, opening the locker. “Do you need underwear?”

Artemis’s face heated up at that but he offered without shame, “A fresh pair would be nice but I can work with what I have.”

The man glanced at him before going back into the locker. “Then drop your drawers too and we’ll see if we have anything that’ll fit.”

He stepped more fully into the makeshift space and started undressing. The man put down a stack of clothing on the bench he was standing before, offering in softer words, “Try those on. If they don’t fit, let me know. I’ll be on the other side of these lockers waiting.”

The man stepped out as he offered in return, “Thank you.”

He caught the man’s cheeky grin before he stepped completely out of view. “Don’t worry about it,” carried over the top of the lockers. “Torra is a good friend of mine and a respected man here. Under Captain Vex, he’s the main man we all look up to. We were hoping once we were cleared to go out that he and the Captain would join the squad going against the Kret.”

“Tolnoran’s supposed to,” he spoke evenly, pulling the underwear on after a quick inspection. It fit well enough so he moved on to the rest of the outfit. “I don’t think Captain Vex will be able to make it, though.”

“You’ve seen the Captain?” He could make out the surprise and anticipation in the man’s words. Dlmor gave him nothing in the way of guidance on how to handle this and it left him feeling uneasy.

“We were caught at the edge of the Crell attacked. He stayed behind with Cass to make sure Tolnoran and a few others were able to get to safety before joining us. He was injured in the process but it didn’t seem life threatening.”

The scoff was muffled but the words that followed were clear enough. “Heard the announcement about the attack. Hopefully we’re able to cut the Crell off from the outside.”

His fingers paused on a button halfway through its hole. “Are you going with the Crell squad or the Kret?”

“Crell.” Dlmor confirmed the annoyance Artemis thought he had heard at the edge of the word. “Would have loved to gone and dealt with Kret but they’re sending all the strongest to take care of the Crell, which, honestly, makes sense.”

He took the man’s word for it, finishing up the buttons. Silence hung over the space as Artemis finished dressing. He stepped around in a beige outfit, stiff but light. The man stood up from the bench he had been sitting on and grinned. “Good. I still got an eye for sizing people up.”

He blinked, wondering if that was a pun. The man’s grin fell slightly and he assumed so a bit too late. “Ah, enough bad jokes. Come on. A few more pieces of gear for you and you’ll be all set.”

The weapons and gear lockers no longer had people in front of them when they returned to that large space. Artemis followed Tucker back into that large space finding that a over half of the personnel that had been there were now gone. Tucker didn’t seem to notice as he walked Artemis down along the sections after sections of large lockers before stepping into one section and crossing right to another locker. Artemis followed with less hesitation this time, more curious than uneasy now.

Tucker did something with the pad on the locker door and a glance at the others showed a keypad under what was either some sort of scanner or chip reader. The locker opened for Tucker and the other man started rifling through it. Inside the locker there were a number of guns, some armor pieces, additional weapon choices, and a hardy amount of ammo. He frowned, inquiring, “Why the lockers?”

“Helps keep everything organized and counted,” the man explained easily, passing Artemis things he didn’t recognize without looking back. “Also makes it easy to distribute what each person needs without having to have physical people here to hand things out. Most of the lockers are loaded by machinery now.”

Tucker gestured towards the machinery above the lockers behind them. Artemis looked up and watched in amazement as a massive robotic arm hanging from a network of tracks reached down towards the lockers one row behind them.
Calling it an arm wasn’t exactly accurate. There were many moving parts that extended down and pulled at one of the lockers but the entire shape seemed like an arm. He had to stand on the bench to clearly see the hatch that opened at the top of the locker before the inside of the locker was pulled out exposing the empty compartment spots. In quick succession, each compartment spot and empty slot was filled with some item before the locker was returned. The hatch was replaced and the arm moved to the next locker. Two new arms drifted over his head to join the one he was watching and smaller arms off the main one moved to the boxes and bins the two new arms had, removing and apparently restocking the main arm.

“Is it more efficient than having people do it?” he asked.

The man looked over, closing the locker with the last of Artemis’s gear in hand. “Even if it isn’t, it frees up a few more bodies for the field or the medical ward. A few hiccups in the system are easy enough to fix and the mechanics and technicians that work on our vehicles, weapons, and everything else in the base are able to repair and fix any issues with the arms or tracks without too much interruption to any work they’re doing.” The man offered the last of Artemis’s gear. “Here. Put this on first. I’ll help with the rest.”

He traded what he held for what the man had in his hand. It was a vest of some sort and he donned it without much trouble. The man then went through and attached items he didn’t recognize. “I’d put a headset on you but you won’t understand a lot of the chatter and with a Dlmor, you won’t need it to talk with Torra.” He did tuck a few electronics into the vest and grinned at Artemis’s quizzical look. “Doesn’t hurt to at least have one on you.” He patted the pocket he had supposedly tucked the headset in before patting a different vest pocket. “This is a tracking beacon. If you get lost or taken, this is how we’ll find you. If you have to ditch the vest, make sure to take this with you.” The man patted another pocket. “There are three tubes of burs in here. Pop the cap and scatter the contents behind you. There’s about fifty tiny burs in the tubes that’ll shred anything that goes over them. And I mean anything so make sure none of them get on the path you have to take if you can help it. Other than that, the rest of it was just extra protection.”

“No weapons, right?”

He turned at the familiar voice and found Tolnoran standing at the edge of the lockers. The healer was beside him dressed in the same beige gear everyone was wearing. Tolnoran had several weapons on his person as well as far more gear. The healer also had a band around their right arm and had a helmet on. Tolnoran was frowning at him before looking to Tucker. “He needs a helmet or a hat, there, Tuck.”

He looked back as the man’s surprise edged his response. “It’s here, I promise.” The man handed him a helmet. It had some weight to it but he knew it was meant to save his life more than be comfortable. He put it on his head but Tucker strapped it in place. “Rest of the gear should turn most bullet and claw, if not leave a nasty bruise afterwords.”

“Good.” Tolnoran smiled. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

Tucker waved the larger man off. “Don’t worry about it.” What jovial emotions had been in the space suddenly vanished. “I have to rejoin my squad. Be safe out there, Lieutenant.”

“You as well, Lieutenant,” Tolnoran added in the same serious tone. “I expect to see you at dinner time.”

Tucker gave a cheeky grin but it was sharp, heavy with the seriousness of war. “Planning on it.”

The man took off at a quick jog. Artemis looked to Tolnoran and the man gestured for him to follow. “Come on. The squad’s getting ready to head out.”

He fell into step beside the healer, watching Ysle and Tolnoran lead the way. The pair were intimidating from behind. He couldn’t imagine what they looked like from the front.

“How are you feeling?” the healer asked in a low whisper as Tolnoran left them at the edge of the squad to talk to a few people.

He shrugged. “I’m alright.”

“Any headache?”

He frowned at that and had to briefly turn his attention internal. There wasn’t anything beyond a dull pressure behind one eye and he didn’t count that as a headache. “Not at the moment.”

The healer relaxed some. “I’m going to send Trill with you once we get out there. They’ll be able to let me know where you are and if you need any assistance while I stay back and keep an eye on the others.”

A frown marred his face. “Are you sure? Won’t you need them for protection?”

“I won’t be getting close to the front lines and I know how to shoot a gun.”

It was stated so matter-of-factly that it threw him for a mild loop. A quick glance over and he noticed the two guns on the healer’s hips and the large rifle strapped to their back. He conceded with a sharp nod.

Tolnoran returned as the squad started to move under barked orders. “We’ve got to move quickly. The Kret are getting too close for comfort. Once we hit the dunes, though, it’s going to get tricky.” Tolnoran looked to the healer. “Stay with the vehicles. There will be three soldiers with you while the two field medics go out with the squads.” Tolnoran looked to him. “You and I will be heading out to the front lines. Stay close and stay on Dlmor until I or Dlmor tell you to dismount. If you get separated, back to the vehicles. Understood?”

He nodded as Dlmor shifted its stance under his hand.

With everything apparently said, Tolnoran turned and led them at a brisk walk over to the set of massive garage doors that were open. The sun was beating down from overhead relentlessly on the few soldiers still standing outside of vehicles he had never seen before. At least, not in person. They were some version of the tracked vehicles he had seen in some Antarctica documentary. Only difference between those and what he was looking at now was instead of just the four articulating tracks there were additions added to the outside of each track that looked like odd wings. He wondered if they were to help the massive - and probably extremely heavy - vehicles from sinking into the sand.

Tolnoran helped the healer into the closest vehicle before turning to Artemis and doing the same. His feet left the sand as Tolnoran hefted him up by the back of his vest. Artemis grabbed at the hand holds built into the door frame and took his weight out of Tolnoran’s grasp as soon as his feet touched the deck of the vehicle. He moved into the vehicle, Dlmor at his side before he had properly stepped into the vehicle. It was Dlmor that directed him to a seat near the nose of the vehicle. He sat down between two soldiers against the left wall and pulled at the seat belts he was sitting on. Dlmor shifted its form into that familiar bipedal one and tugged at them for him, strapping him into place. The soldier on his right reached over and helped, buckling the belt around his waist as Dlmor got the ones that crossed over his chest and shoulders buckled.

Once buckled in with all the straps tight - both soldiers tugged on the belts to pin him in - Dlmor reshaped its form back to the one he was familiar with but smaller so that it could tuck itself between his legs securely. Tolnoran came over and double checked the tightness of the straps as the engine that was already idling roared to life. It felt like the vehicle bucked forward and it was only because of the tight straps that he didn’t go anywhere. He was amazed when Tolnoran barely even swayed from the movement, one hand on his straps, the other in the strapping hanging from the ceiling.

“Don’t leave your seat till I come get you,” Tolnoran yelled over the noise. “No need for you to get swept up with the others.”

“Understood, sir,” he shouted back, sheepish but not knowing what else to say.

Tolnoran touched the top of his helmet, a gesture of comfort he took with surprising greed. He watched Tolnoran move to the cab, confused.

Dlmor sent him a brush of reassurance and comfort through Transference and he sighed. He appreciated the attempt but he wasn’t even quite sure why he had suddenly needed that touch, that comfort. He rolled his eyes when Dlmor pointed out to him that he had been through a lot and was now going into the midst of a battlefield to escape one danger only to be placed in a different kind of danger. He was aware of that. He knew it was probably very normal for someone who had never been in the heart of a real fight to suddenly want reassurance from the only person he knew and trusted in among strangers.

He felt Dlmor’s growl instead of hearing it. The creature turned a sharp glare on him and he covered those dark blue eyes with one hand. He shot back the same intent a “shush you” would have had had he been able to speak it and Dlmor simply pulled its head from under his hand and bit down. There wasn’t any pain from it, let alone any force in the bite itself, and he gently grabbed the creature’s lower jaw in turn shaking it like he would do a dog’s. A glint of amusement flickered through those large eyes as the creature licked his hand. He made a face reflexively and yanked his hand free. “Gross,” he muttered into the sound of the engine, rubbing the slobber into Dlmor’s fur. Dlmor chuckled, not fighting the return of its own saliva via its fur.

Adrenaline shot through his spine and he jerked upright, gaze snapping around. No one was paying him any mind. The only eyes upon him were Dlmor’s and the creature was already silently asking what was wrong. He grabbed at the fur at the back of Dlmor’s neck, trying desperately to hear over the noise of the vehicle.

There was no way- he had to be mishearing it. There was no way he could be hearing it, not when the engine nearly drowned out his own thoughts.

Dlmor’s head whipped around, pinning its gaze to the cab. His heart sank to his stomach as his adrenaline increased.

They both could clearly make out the sound of classical music being played over an old radio.

Dlmor saw or sensed something Artemis was not privy to. From one moment to the next, the creature was moving over him, wrapping itself around him not much differently than the time in the dunes where Dlmor had behaved like sunglasses for him.

He woke groggy and in pain. A low moan escaped him as waking brought movement to body parts that complained loudly at it. His head was pounding but reaching up only had his hand meeting an dentless helmet. There was a sharp light coming from his right side and the belts were pressing into him as if he was now on the ceiling instead of the wall.

His eyes adapted to the sharp light enough to tell him that was true.

He could make out sand in front of him nearly close enough to touch, which was much closer than the other wall had been. A glance around revealed he was one of two bodies still strapped in but the body three seats to his right was very much dead and half buried in the sand. He shuddered and looked away. The glare from outside was too much for him to see anything in that direction.

His hands shook as he undid the buckles and the hot sand cushioned his fall. He hissed as pain shot up his left leg and peppered the bottom of his right foot. Looking down at his shoes revealed that his left was completely missing and the right no longer had a sole.
His entire left foot and halfway up his shin was raw. What remained of his pant leg rubbed against raw skin as course sand bit at everything else. He shifted onto his back and got his leg out of the sand. Pain flared as he brushed as much of the sand as he could away, blinding him with tears as he worked. It was hard to keep working till he couldn’t feel anymore sand stuck to his leg. He looked around, searching for anything that would work as a temporary bandage.

He looked up at the seat belts he had been strapped into. They were probably the worst thing to use but he had a shirt under the uniform he could use. But then his thoughts went to chaffing and so many other things that he had to shake his head clear. He looked over at the other body in the space and balked at the thought of even touching it. Unfortunately, the left foot was sticking out of the sand undamaged and free of sand. Nausea rolled through him as he started to drag himself over to the body.

His hands shook as he undid the laces and tugged the boot free. The sock underneath looked clean enough - even smelt clean enough; whoever the body had been had kept good hygiene and he was grateful for that one blessing - so he took that too. The sock rubbed at the raw skin and it sent faint tendrils of pain shooting up his leg but the sock went up to his knee and protected the injury from sand. He pulled the boot on and found it a bit tight but doable. He tied it down and used the long laces to tie the torn pant leg shut around his calf. It probably wasn’t fool proof against sand but it would be better than nothing. Now all he had to deal with was the right shoe.

He pulled out one of the tube of burs and rolled it over in his palm. The burs themselves were small, skinny, and he didn’t quite understand how they were supposed to shred anything that was chasing him. Carefully, he popped the cap, surprised when it hung from a strip of plastic rather than come completely free and with continued care he shook one bur out onto the sand beside him.

The little strip of metal sprung open and he jerked back in surprise. He pressed the cap back into place before shoving it into the pocket. The bur itself wasn’t larger than a quarter in any direction. Each of its four points looked razor sharp but the hing each arm was attached to looked safe enough to grasp. He got his fingers in among the joints and picked it up. He had a rather secure hold on it and carefully stood on his left leg. Pain skittered up his leg but he ignored it and grabbed at one of the longest belts he had been in.

Tucker hadn’t been kidding. Barely three swipes at the durable material and it came free. He had at the other end before he eased himself back into the sand. There wasn’t as much sand on the bottom of his right foot but there was enough that he sent skittering bolts of pain up his leg from brushing the sand away. The belt worked as he had hoped, though, and made a rather effective sole as he wrapped it around the body of the shoe. He looked to the body. He needed some sort of sock and as much as he didn’t want to discover how much of the body was missing, he had to try.

Tucking the belt out of the sand, he paused, looking at the seats. He ran his hand over them and frowned. There was a chance there was enough padding to act like a cushion. The bur point was dragging through the bottom cushion before he had even finished that thought. The cushion wasn’t new but it also wasn’t gross or falling apart. He grabbed the belt and sat back down. With the bottom of the shoe packed full, he wrapped the belt around the shoe and tied it off. With a quick bit of ingenuity, he stabbed holes through the end of the belt large enough for the shoelaces to slip through and he tied the end down as he tied the boot shut.

The sun beat down on him as he stepped out from his shelter. He brought his hand up against the rim of the helmet and squinted against the glare.

Whatever had happened, it hadn’t happened where he was or it had decimated the fleet. There were maybe four other chunks of vehicle scattered in the valley between dunes with barely any sign remaining of where they had come from. The dune to his left had two grooves and a few pockets that were being erased by wind and shifting sand and he mentally marked it before wandering over to the other pieces. Out of all the pieces, only one other held part of the seats. It looked like the cab, even, but there wasn’t a body to be found. Instead, the two bodies he did find he had quite literally stumbled over in the sand on his way to check the other pieces for anything useful.

Something glistened in the sand.

He froze, gaze snapping to it immediately. It was hard to make out and he carefully reached into the sand to retrieve it, a heavy ominous feeling settling on his back.

Despite it being slightly larger than the large marble of a marble set, the Core was heavy and cold. He curled his fingers around it, attention now honed in on the fact that he had no idea where Dlmor was.

It was strange how he knew the Core in his hand didn’t belong to Dlmor.

He started up the dune that had been marked by the parts of the vehicle tumbling down it, not that those marks existed anymore. Getting to the top took a very long time and wore him out. He crested the top only to lose his footing and slide down enough to be hidden by the dune itself.

The noises beyond the ridge slammed into him as he finally realized there was sound to hear. Gunfire, screams from human and creature, and something else rolled over him, pulling at him. He pressed into the dune and got himself over the ridge enough to see the battlefield.

He could barely make out the humans in their beige gear but the Kret were stark against the sand. They looked like living stone statues from where he was. The creatures were fighting the humans and losing from what he could tell. There was a flash of darker stone color and he honed in on it. Sure enough, there was movement in the battle and Ysle stood out like a sore thumb. The creature was hauling ass through the Kret and he took comfort in the thought that Tolnoran was still alright. He looked around, trying to see if he could find the dark spot that would have been Dlmor.

His heart sank when he couldn’t spot the creature in among the soldiers and Kret. It quickened half a second later as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Classical music from an old radio drifted around him from behind.

He threw himself sideway and started to roll down the hill at an alarming rate. He didn’t get the chance to correct himself before he was sliding to a stop at the bottom on his back, feet pointed to the top of the hill. Ice filled his veins as he found himself looking at an Olnvorox.

A cry escaped his throat when it suddenly appeared over him and he rolled out of the way of its claws. There was noise of its hand sinking into the sand and with a certainty he couldn’t even fathom the origin of, he knew this was no dream, no ploy on the thing’s part. If he or anyone else died here, they would be dead.

“Dlmor!” he screamed, the sound of his own voice solidifying that dreadful realization, that belief into his chest.

The thing came at him again and he dove for the sand a second time.

Pain flared at the center of his back as he was thrown forward. He hit sand before he slammed into hot metal. He scrambled away, aiming for the dune.

The thing was on him again and grabbed at the back of his vest. It sliced through it, catching his back but not ridding him of the shirt underneath. A scream of pain ripped itself from his throat as he pinned the vest to his chest. There had to be pain coming from his feet as he booked it for the dune again but he barely noticed. He groped for the tubes of burs and his sweaty palm clamped around one. There was the sensation of being watched before he was smacked from the side and thrown back into the valley. He kept the tube up and away from anything that could accidentally open it but it meant leaving his back exposed and the pain from his back made him black out for a moment.

Sucking in a breath hurt. Moving hurt. Anything he did sent pain through every limb and constricted his chest but he had to move, had to get up.

Seeing what counted as the thing’s feet was good motivation and he leapt to his feet. It was not graceful to any stretch of the imagination - he could almost count every grain of sand sending stabbing pain through every nerve in his back - but he was up and facing his enemy head on. With a snarl, he flicked the cap off and threw the burs at the creature without letting the tube go.

He didn’t stick around to see if there was any telling damage as he ran away.

There was a scream that shot through his head but that didn’t tell him anything either.

Something wrapped around his throat and yanked him backwards. His back hit sand again and despite the excruciating pain that caused, he didn’t black out that time. It did blacken his vision but it cleared quickly. The thing was standing over him grinning in a way that shouldn’t have been physically possible. It raised its claws for another strike.

Out of instinct he brought his arms up to cover his head.

Out of instinct, he screamed.

Except, instead of some wordless sound of terror, a word he didn’t understand escaped his throat.

It was like the earth beneath him pulsed. His arms shifted clearing his view of the thing above him in time to catch the claws coming within a hair’s breadth of him before something slammed into it and tore it from his view.

There were shouts and people were upon him and he couldn’t spare them a thought as he rolled onto his feet. What pain he did feel was lost to the connection he had with Dlmor.

It was like he wasn’t quite himself anymore but not in a bad way. He felt whole, like he had always been missing a part of himself that he hadn’t even known was gone. There was a fullness to his existence that seemed like a brilliant flame after being in the cold darkness for so long. Ahead of him his piece of the night sky shoved off the Olnvorox. Dlmor placed itself between him and the thing, growling low in its throat. The Olnvorox’s gaze moved to the voices behind Artemis, to the things he hadn’t paid much mind to and knew he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Dlmor moved at the same time he did. They went in completely different directions - Dlmor at the thing, Artemis at the people behind him - and he found himself facing Beckett, Cole, Dean, and Sam. They were asking him things, demanding answers, but a large chunk of his attention was on the fight at his back.

“I’ll explain later,” he assured them, grabbing at Beckett and Cole’s arms. “But we have to get inside. Now.”

He was putting all his faith into the two Sensitives. If they didn’t believe him, if they didn’t stop asking questions and just did as he asked, they weren’t going to live through this.

Beckett, the light that they were in his life, believed him first and trusted him first. They gave a sharp nod before starting towards the cabin of their own choice. Their brother wasn’t far behind which got Dean and Sam to follow suit. It wasn’t till he was bringing up the rear that he finally registered that he was back at the cabin.

They weren’t in the Second Plane anymore.
A different kind of terror shot through him and he felt Dlmor echo it. He stopped at the steps of the porch, catching Beckett’s hand when they realized he wasn’t joining them. “Hunker down and wait for me, ok? I have to go help.”

“Help with what?” Beckett’s voice quake with a torrent of emotions.

He shook his head. “Please. Trust me in this and just wait. I’ll be back as soon as it’s safe.”

“Artemis, don’t be stupid,” Cole spat, words sharp but the fear clear in the lines of his face. “You’re not doing anything on your own. Lora isn’t here to offer you backup and even then you had vanished without a trace. We’re not letting you get taken again.”

He offered a tight smile as echoes of Dlmor slamming into a tree shot through his ribs and down his spine. How he didn’t flinch from it was beyond him. “I doubt she or anyone else who could help with this even if they were here.” He looked back at Beckett. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

They didn’t believe him. Or maybe they didn’t believe the world would let him hold to it. Even faced with that doubt they still let go of his hand with a sharp nod. “Don’t take too long.”

He offered a smile as echoes of pain shot through his torso. He was running out of time. “Will try not to.”

The trees shot past him in a blur as he left the cabin behind. What attention he could devote to Dlmor he gave without hesitation, barely keeping enough to keep himself from running into a tree head on. Dlmor growled at him, berating him for his recklessness, but he brushed the creature’s worry aside. This wasn’t something they could hold back with; he would be fine.

Dlmor dodged the attack at his silent scream to move. The claws sank into the earth before spraying dirt and plant life everywhere. The subsequent crater was dark with damp earth. Dlmor growled, barring its teeth before launching itself at the Olnvorox. The thing moved out of its reach, backtracking numerous steps so quickly, it seemed to blink out of existence in one location and reappear in another. Dlmor was getting sick of that trick. Between the both of them, though, they were learning to track it.

The thing’s grin grew as those vacant eyes got wider. It lunged, covering ground in a split second. Dlmor dove for the dirt at the thing’s feet as stardust seemed to burst from the creature’s fur. The dust hung in the air around the Olnvorox like a faint nebula, holding its attention briefly.

He leapt into the fray from a fallen tree and found himself level with what counted as the thing’s shoulders. At the peak of his jump with his arm pulled back, it was like time slowed down for him. The stardust rushed towards him, collecting and solidifying in his hand into a spear that shone like Dlmor’s eyes had in the dark, only brighter and looking more like pure light than that every-color silver he had grown accustom to seeing.

The thing screamed as the spear was buried into its torso.

The scream pierced through his head, leaving behind an excruciating headache. He hit the ground and rolled, flinching from the pain and looking back at the creature.

He had hit the thing in the torso but it had shifted enough that the spear had missed the intended mark. The thing moved to attack him but Dlmor was on its back, eyes those every-color silver and glowing. Artemis’s piece of the night tore at the thing from behind before kicking it away and placing itself between Artemis and the Olnvorox.

There was a word on his lip, a desire in his chest, but he caught Dlmor’s ears flattening as the creature picked up on it and he staggered under the influx of thoughts from Dlmor.

His heart sank.

Oh. So that’s what the dream had meant.

One set of claws buried themselves into the dirt where he had been standing, the other swiping at him as he leapt back. A second spear was in his hand as he brought the staff around and blocked the swipe.

He shook his head, pushing back. They couldn’t risk it unless they could guarantee that all Olnvorox would be kept from causing untold horrors in either Plane.

Dlmor slammed into the thing’s side, teeth sinking into the shoulder joint. Another scream. He ignored the flare of pain.

He didn’t accept Dlmor’s counter that it wasn’t possible. It had to be possible. They had to be able to cut the Olnvorox down and keep it down. They couldn’t risk these things getting enough power to wreak havoc across the Planes.

Dlmor was ripped from the thing’s shoulder and thrown into a nearby tree. Dlmor spun midair and absorbed the impact through its legs into a crouch before using the energy to launch itself back at the Olnvorox.

They couldn’t risk others dying at the hands of these things. There would be no one left should that happen.

The Olnvorox caught Dlmor by the throat, claws digging into the creature’s neck. Dlmor cried out in pain as Artemis took a few bounding strides to get some force behind the spear. It flew straight but the damn thing had been paying attention to him. It snatched the spear of light out of the air with glee, turning its broken grin and wide vacant eyes to him.

It was like time had almost stopped as he watched the fragments of the spear slowly scatter from the original shape. At the outskirts of their little arena, there were unmoving shadows that looked disconcertingly like the Olnvorox before him. The classical music from the old radio drifted through that stretched out moment of time. Knowledge he shouldn’t have known shoved itself to the forefront of his mind.

It wasn’t music. It was voices. Words.

The thing shattered the spear and he was forced to dive out of the way of the incoming claws.

A thought turned into a plan that would probably cost both his and Dlmor’s life. He knew that both of them were willing to take that chance if it mean so many others got to live but there was a sadness in his chest that wasn’t just his own. Bound as they were, Dlmor knew everything he had learned in that split second of the spear shattering.

It took far more effort than he cared for to crawl out of the bush he had landed in.

He was willing to take that risk, but they had to get back to the Second Plane.

He clambered to his feet, committing to the crazy plan. The grin on the Olnvorox’s face faltered as if it understood what was about to happen. He wasn’t sure if that made him happy or sad. He opened his mouth.

He didn’t even realize the thing had moved until its claws were being shoved away inches from his face. A blur of color told him exactly what had just interfered and he whipped his head around in surprise and rising fear as Ysle shot past him to help Trevak.

Tolnoran was standing at Elias’s side, both men standing tall, proud, and pissed. Elias cut to him as Tolnoran moved to Dlmor. The thing had dropped the creature upon the new assault. Elias grabbed at his tattered shirt, demanding, “What the hell were you thinking dragging it here.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shot back, grabbing at his uncle’s arm not to throw him off, but to hang on. “We’re taking it back.” He caught the bewilderment that filled his uncle’s expression as he looked to Dlmor. He got a ping of assurance.

There was a burst of light and suddenly they were all in that hot desert sun again.

The thing screamed again and he watched as it tore through Ysle. The Kret’s form flickered before giving, revealing its Core. The thing grinned but he was already moving. Dlmor was at the Core before it had even fallen, paws turned hands clasping around it as Artemis came in with a new spear. He buried the point into the Olnvorox’s hand, delaying the attack that would have cut Dlmor to ribbons. The world around them flickered between desert and winter forest.

Dlmor rolled in the sand, the grains slipping free of its fur like droplets of water as it hurried to his side, passing him the Core. Trevak - massive, hissing, encircling them all - was reared back, wings wide.

The world around them changed and they were in that winter forest again. Whatever attack Trevak had intended was cut off by trees and the Olnvorox took off. Dlmor was right behind it as Artemis ran over to the prone Tolnoran. Elias was just getting there, hands shaking as he moved to roll the larger man over. Words were tumbling from Elias’s lips but Artemis didn’t have enough attention to understand what the man was muttering. He grabbed at Elias’s hand and shoved the Core in it. Unlike the one he had found in the sand, this one was still warm and incredibly light. Once safe in the man’s palm, he grabbed Tolnoran’s hand and sandwiched the Core between the two palms, barking, “Trevak!”

The winged serpent hurried over, wrapping itself protectively around the two men as if it knew what he had wanted by its name alone.

Dlmor tackled the Olnvorox to the ground. It bit down on Olnvorox’s wrist as he called out.

“Zlvyx!”

Elias’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

A burst of light and Dlmor was back, Olnvorox in tow. The thing screamed but he barely noticed as there was a burst of stardust from Dlmor as the creature shifted its form in an attempt to pin the thing down.

That stardust immediately gathered in the space between Tolnoran and Elias’s palms as if something was drawing it in at an accelerated rate. As soon as it was all gathered, Artemis let their hands go and he was off running towards Dlmor and the Olnvorox. The world flickered again and his next step was into open air. He yanked his other foot from the sand and cleared a good distance of dune before his feet hit sand again. He skidded down the last of the slope before taking off running towards the struggling pair.

The thing locked its eyes on him. He grinned back at it. “Not this time.”

Each point of light on Dlmor intensified until the creature was a point of blinding light in the middle of a sun soaked desert. The thing screamed out but there was no pain from the scream. The form of living light shifted around the Olnvorox, swallowing it as it continued to scream, to struggle. He knew it was well aware of what he was doing, of what he was planning, and he took no pleasure in its terror. Instead he focused on the task at hand.

The world around him darkened as he watched until the shadows of dunes were a backdrop for a glowing form that was wrapping itself around the shadow of an Olnvorox. Thin strings of light slowly stretched from the living light in a number of directions. He pulled in a slow breath.

When he released it, those strings shot off in every direction at a speed he couldn’t even fathom. One, then another, then three, then twelve, then twenty-six, numerous Olnvorox all over the Second Plane that were trying to flee were suddenly pinned in place by these strings of light. Suddenly there were strings in the First Plane and his heart briefly clenched in fear at the edge of his awareness.

The Olnvorox there tried to flee but they were pinned down as well. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, though. There were too many and the two of them were already drawn out so thin. Instead, he turned his attention from those strings of light and focused on the gray of both planes. He gestured and something very similar to the stardust he had been utilizing earlier shot out in every direction from the same point on both Planes. It took a long while before he picked up on the number of glowing form, on those that would have the power and strength to help in this.

He wasn’t going to be able to rid the Planes of Olnvorox. They didn’t have the power for that, let alone what would happen from the backlash of energy from such an act, but he could Bind them. Bound would restrict their abilities, their movement, and would give them the chance to return to what they were before their existence was ripped from them.

A weariness that was bone deep and far greater than any exhaustion he had ever felt before weighed heavily on them both but they weren’t done yet. He pulled himself back into the Second Plane, turning to watch as Dlmor started to let go of what had been the Olnvorox. The creature’s shadowy form was gone, its broken grin and vacant eyes were no longer present, leaving behind a rather familiar form of shaped night with every-color silver stars and eyes.

After all, they were Zlvyx whose Cores had been overspent and abandoned.

With the last of what they had, he and his Zlvyx Bound every single Olnvorox to those that could help them, that were willing to help them.

As the last of them were Bound, Artemis found himself on his knees aware of the winter air biting into him again. Through his Zlvyx’s eyes he could make out the blurry forms of Tolnoran and Elias and their Bound. Despite the lack of clarity, it seemed all four were alright. As weary as the creature was, his Zlvyx gave him everything it could through Transference. Memories and thoughts poured into him and he carefully tucked them all away even as they filled his mind.

All of it pulled a bittersweet smile to his face as he felt Zlvyx’s form give out. He watched as the ball of light that was his Zlvyx’s Core hover for a brief moment before shooting skyward so quickly, all he saw was the phantom streak of light left behind on his retina. The Olnvorox now Zlvyx cautiously approached him, pressing its face into his chest as the last of his strength left him. He collapsed forward but the creature took his weight and let out a chirruped purr, words edging the sound in his head.

It wanted to become Bound to him, to save him from the death that awaited him, but he succumbed too quickly to the repercussions of his actions to even understand the creature’s desire.

[ArtisticVicu]

Kepler's Story
Grief is hard for even the strongest to handle and he never counted himself among the strongest. Brittle for as long as he could remember, Sans poured everything he had into aiding the Overworld Project now that they had a neutralizing agent thanks to Gaster. He did it to avoid the grief he knew he wouldn't survive.

Life didn't let him succeed with that for long.

After collapsing at work, Sans received news that changed everything. No longer able to ignore the grief, no longer healthy enough to keep running, Sans gives in and does what he can to get better - to get stronger - so that he could be there for their souling. He owed them that at minimum.

His form was not built to go through any of this. He knew that in his core as finitely as he knew his own magic. If he lived long enough to see the Overworld, it would be a miracle.

If he lived long enough to leave behind a few good memories for their souling, then he would gladly let go when his time came.

Knowing his luck and his brother's stubbornness, there was no way Papyrus was letting him leave any time soon.

Notes:
Though this can be read as a standalone, this does follow immediately after Othertale (https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=95786&p=3073096&viewfull=1#post3073096). Some things may not make sense if you read this first, not to mention the few spoilers that are contained within.

The lab was quiet when he entered it. Everyone else was either celebrating or getting much needed sleep and he envied any of the latter. He turned on the terminal he had been at as a half thought crossed his mind. Would there be any others suffering from the events of the day? Heck, the Incident itself - Incident? Really? That was the best he could come up with? - had been less than 24 hours ago and for a large number of those in the Lab it would have been the first severe attack they would have been subjected to. Things like that just didn’t happen in the Underground. Sure, a bar fight or a brawl broke out occasionally, and there’s always the random bloke that just ups and loses it but nothing like-

The chirrup from the terminal brought his spiraling thoughts to a halt. He stared at the screen completely lost for a brief moment before his mind found itself back on the task at hand. He could spiral his way into a panic attack later. Right now, there was work to do.

It wasn’t till someone placed a plate donning a fat, hot burrito that he became aware of the people in the space around him. He grinned up at the person offering him food and offered some words but whoever it had been and whatever he had said were gone from his memory as soon as he focused back on his terminal. He rubbed at his face feeling raw but the sounds of the lab now had his attention and he couldn’t seem to isolate from it like he had been.

The burrito was delicious but he lacked the appetite for it. It should probably concern him - he was sure his magic was in desperate need of a refuel - but he just couldn’t seem to care enough about it to look into it. So he put it out of his mind and focused on the lab around him in order to eat as much of the burrito as he could without being aware he was doing so.

There wasn’t a single face he recognized, not that it meant much. With the previous night having dragged on till four in the morning, he wasn’t surprised to see people who had not been present or who had gone to bed far sooner. Though he had a sneaking suspicion that a few of the folks were from the previous night even if he couldn’t remember them; the clock did read three in the afternoon.

Time could certainly fly when he was lost in his work.

Papyrus interrupted his work a good four hours later with a worn expression. “Come on,” the lankier skeleton offered. “Let us get some dinner in you and the both of us off to bed.”

A smile pulled itself across his face. “You cooking?” he asked, doing his best to distract himself from the dread that had settled over him.

Papyrus chuckled. “I can if you are willing to help. I am...too strung out to do it on my own tonight.”

Guilt and empathy twisted his soul. Of course he wouldn’t have been the only one to suffer from yesterday’s events. Papyrus had been on the front lines with him, had witness and even recovered-

“Always willing to help, Pap,” he nearly spat even as he tried to keep his faux happy mood. “Just tell me what to do.”

The smile Papyrus returned looked dull and Sans was immensely grateful that the dining space and attached kitchen were bustling. The crowd there greeted the two of them warmly, happily, and while he easily went with the cordial nature of the space, his muted awareness of Papyrus had him unaware of how withdrawn Papyrus became in the midst of it.

Sans lost himself in that haze of friendly people and happy conversations so much that the view of his door shocked him; Papyrus’s words curled around him, soft in the nearly empty hallway. “Sleep well, Sans.”

Panic shattered the good mood he had been in and he clamped down on it, words tumbling from his tongue in something that sounded almost carefree. “You too, Pap. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

He gained a huffed laugh for his efforts but nothing more. Papyrus patted his shoulder before walking away.

Sans couldn’t get himself to move from that spot till Papyrus was out of sight. He entered his room and closed the door, gaze roaming over the small space even as the panic started to slip out of his grasp. One night. He could get one night of good sleep. It wouldn’t kill him.

It shouldn’t kill him, he amended.

He shot awake barely an hour later. His magic scraped at his bones, churned in his chest, and it was all he could do to swallow back the wails of despair that wanted out. His hands shook as he pressed them to his face. He sucked in air that he didn’t need with the desperation of someone drowning. The blankets seemed to tighten around him and he shoved them off, stumbling to his feet into the middle of his room. No, there was no way he was sleeping. Not a chance.

He shoved a fresh change of clothes on but couldn’t get the lab coat on; what he was already wearing felt too tight on his bones and magic that even the thought of pulling the coat on made him want to tear at his clothing.

He did a cursory glance of the hallway before he dashed back to the lab. If he was kicked out, he’d go to his personal one, but there was no way he was going to try sleeping again anytime soon.

The dream hadn’t stuck around once he had woken but the residual effects lasted for hours. As long as he didn’t remember whatever horrors his mind had conjured, he would take the side effects.

Papyrus came for him every night for dinner and every night Papyrus bid him goodnight at his door. Sans would step in and piddle around for an hour before slipping back to either the lab or his personal one. How his brother hadn’t caught on after two weeks of him ditching sleep was beyond him.

In hindsight, Papyrus probably knew from the beginning but that would mean Sans would have to face why Papyrus had let him get away with it for two whole weeks.

But as he entered his lab after bidding his brother goodnight for the fifteenth night in a row, he found Papyrus waiting for him with arms crossed and looking as tired as Sans was pretending he wasn’t.

“Oops,” rolled off his tongue. An involuntary grin spread across his face as the word. “Guess you caught me.”

“Sans,” Papyrus started, the word heavy and disappointed and it snapped something in Sans that he hadn’t even been aware had being taut.

“Oh, come on, Pap,” he cut in, the words heavy and unnecessarily sharp. “I’m a grown skeleton. I can handle a few nights of little sleep. It’s not harming any of my work.”

Papyrus clenched his teeth as Sans caught the barely suppressed flicker of orange magic in his brother’s sockets. The other’s entire form had tensed despite the exhaustion that curled the long spine forward and hunched the shoulders. “No, but it is harming you and I am done standing aside and letting you wear yourself down for something that can wait.”

That…stung. That stung in a way that Sans had not been expecting from his brother. It poked a hole in the little bubble he had managed to shove the worst of his emotions into causing it to leak. “Can wait,” he parroted, unintentionally baring his teeth as he did so. “Something that can wait. Papyrus, I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under but this work cannot simply ‘wait’.”

Whatever shift happened in Papyrus’s expression, he didn’t understand it. “There are others that can handle it long enough for you to take a much needed break.”

“Break from what!?” he barked, feeling as if his brother had just shoved him to the edge of a dangerous cliff. “I’ve barely been able to do anything for the last four months and now that I’m finally being of use, I need to take a break? No!”

Papyrus actually rolled his eyes at that and it infuriated him. “Sans, that’s not-”

“That’s not what you meant?” he challenged. What little magic wasn’t holding him together coiled around every bone, around his face, and it left him with the urge to scrape at his bones till it faded. “Then what did you mean, Papyrus. What in the stars above did you mean.”

That was the last thing he could clearly remember of the argument. Whatever his brother had said to counter his challenge, whatever words had followed, he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that whatever had been said had been bad. Really bad. The wounded, betrayed expression on Papyrus’s face before the other skeleton had turned and stormed off had left him unable to focus on his work. Whatever had been said had those that had been witness to the fight watching him with apprehension and unease.

It was also the last point in time that he had been able to keep track of time.

The rough patch left by the argument hadn’t lasted and Sans was quickly swallowed by the mountain of work that had to be done. Every hour of every day there was something to work on, something to keep him busy. When they finished crunching numbers to see if they had enough of the neutralizing agent - if the volume of the planet’s atmosphere was still close to what they were using in their calculations, they barely had enough - focus shifting into plans on how to distribute the neutralizing agent. Countless brainstorming sessions led into working out three different plans, expanding upon them and seeing which one would have the highest rate of success with the fewest amount of people being exposed to the atmosphere of the Overworld.

If he slept during any of it, it was due to exhaustion. Sometimes he would sleep deep enough that he got a good four or five hours of actual sleep before the nightmares woke him. Most of the time, though, he was barely lucky enough to get a full hour before he was up against his own volition. Luckily eating hadn’t been his sole responsibility like sleeping was but that didn’t mean he was eating enough, let alone well enough to keep his magic levels above the bare minimum.

It didn’t take a genius to make the conclusion that his lack of self care was probably why he found himself groggily waking up on the lab floor surrounded by far too many people. An odd sort of numb resolve stuck around as the world around him drew his attention.

“Easy Sans,” Undyne’s voice urged. It was unusually gentle and low, wrapping around him as if it could block out the rest of the lab. Or maybe he was just too tired to be able to focus on more than one thing. “We’ve got a medic on the way to check you over before you start moving around.” He heard her weight shift above his head. “Do you know where you are? What happened?”

“I passed out in the lab,” fell from his mouth in a fat tongue slur of words.

Someone jumped in at the tail end of his statement. “More like dropped dead.” He frowned. That was one of the new - to him - humans on the project. What was their name again? “You collapsed without any warning. Right in the middle of tasks.” Conner? Cooper? “Nothing like your normal napping.”

Tanner. That’s what it was. Smart, if not a touch more insecure than normal newbies. Most were to some extent in the beginning and Tanner was green enough to still have the insecurity that came from a simple lack of knowledge. Hopefully both insecurities the human housed would fade the longer Tanner stuck to it.

Undyne’s voice brought him back to center. A small part of his mind prodded at the idea that he should be concerned by that. “Looks like the medic’s here.”

There was chatter over him but he couldn’t care less. Despite the open sockets, he had no magic to pool into eyelights to see clearly what was going on. For a brief moment, it brought his thoughts to Papyrus wearing glasses while reading and he wondered if his brother needed them since the forced trait shift. Surely he had plenty of magic to spare now to keep his eyesight exceptional without thinking about it.

A cool hand curled around the base of his skull and top of his spine. “Sans? Are you still with us?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he offered. The words still came out fat tongue slurred but it seemed understandable enough.

“Good. I’m Dr. Hendrix. I’m going to check you for injuries and see if we have to brace anything before moving you. While I work, I want you to hold a conversation with Undyne.”

Annoyance rolled under the numbness that had yet to leave him. “Do I have to?”

There was a heavy pause before Dr. Hendrix stated plainly, “Yes.”

“Fantastic,” had more bite to it than he had intended and he was sure he felt the roll of Undyne’s magic as she rightfully took offence to that.

“Well, lucky for you I actually have things we need to discuss,” Undyne all but growled at him.

“Don’t rile him up too much, Captain,” the doctor warned, though it came across more like a drawl than an actual warning.

“Not planning on it.” She shifted her weight and he got the distinct impression she was glaring at him. “Though, if talking about his brother riles him up, that’s on him.”

“The heck we need to talk about Papyrus for?” He mentally winced when the words slurred together horribly.

“You haven’t talked to him in four months.”

He wanted to deny it had been that long, that they had only just had their argument last week. “So?”

“Sans,” she berated. But instead of continuing with whatever she had planned on saying, she sighed instead. “Look. I gave Papyrus that first two weeks off because I had to. It is literally expected that family is allowed time to grieve the loss of a loved one. I wanted to give him more than that but he fought me even on the mandatory two week minimum. But then I hear you don’t even show up to the fucking funeral only to have a verbal brawl with him over it after promising you would be there…” He heard her suck air through clenched teeth, holding it before she released it in a sharp breath. “He refused work at the Lab after that.” His soul dropped at that as he finally forced his magic to make eyelights. A crisp view of the lab from the floor assaulted his mind. He ignored it for the sake of looking up at her as best he could lying on his side. She met his gaze with a glare that seemed wounded somehow. “I’ve been forced to put him on probational patrols in the same neck of the woods your house is in. He’s been there for a little over two months now and you haven’t even fucking noticed.”

Dr. Hendrix’s voice was jarring. “Alright. Nothing broken, nothing we have to brace. See if you can’t sit up on your own, Sans. Carefully.”

The noises of the lab slammed into him and he flinched from them. It seemed as if his fall had barely created a pause in the chaos.

He sat up with surprising ease, though that was more relative than accurate. His magic was taut around his bones and soreness and fatigue followed the actions. The doctor was watching him like a hawk as he got himself standing before anyone could say otherwise.

Dr. Hendrix’s expression tightened but they didn’t tell him off for it. “I’m making you ride on the stretcher.”

“I can-” he started but the doctor held up a hand.

“Don’t care. You’re riding on the stretcher.”

He swallowed the desire to push the subject. He was fine, he was standing. He could walk to the medical ward.

But then he walked the short distance to the stretcher and nearly collapsed a second time. Undyne’s hands suddenly appearing under his arms was the only reason he didn’t hit the floor. Dr. Hendrix helped Undyne get his situated on the stretcher. His face burned in shame but he conceded. He turned his focus onto counting the lights they passed under, ignoring those that walked with him and those that they passed in the halls.

“Hey,” curled gently around his thoughts and he found himself blinking awake to find Undyne was looking at him with her hand on his forehead. They were still walking. “Gotta stay awake, Sans.”

“M’tired,” was the only thing he managed.

The left corner of her lips upturned in a smile. “I’m sure but right now the doc needs to finish up checking you over before allowing you to sleep. Concussion is still a real possibility.”

He didn’t reply and Undyne’s little half smile fell.

“So why haven’t you been sleeping?”

He made a face at her question, hating that she apparently knew, hating that she was still touching his forehead, hating that he was answering anyways. “Don’t care for the nightmares.”

“Papyrus said he tried to get you to go see a grievance counselor.”

That...he didn’t remember that. “I’ve been busy.”

“How? You were supposed to be barred from working the first two weeks.”

He shrugged. He couldn’t remember if anyone had or not. The prospect of a solution coming in a human lifetime had been far more potent than some grief policy.

“You do realize I will be speaking with Asgore and Toriel about this.”

He tensed at that. He knew it had only been sheer luck that the two boss monsters had been busy with other things that they hadn’t come and forced him to face that two weeks without distractions. “Leave them be, Undyne,” he tried despite knowing it was futile to try. “They’ve got their hands full with those three. No need to drag their attention away quite yet.”

To his surprise, Undyne’s expression tightened. Apparently the Dreemurrs taking in Chara along with Frisk and Flowey hadn’t sat right with the Guard Captain. He hadn’t really paid much attention to what had actually happened. All he knew was that Chara had been found within that first week after the Incident and that the Dreemurrs had taken them in right along with Frisk and Flowey. He knew that none of it had been an easy process but he didn’t know to what extent nor how many of those challenges still existed. Undyne looked down at him with an expression he couldn’t understand but the words to ask her about it stuck in his throat. “You know I can’t, Sans. This is serious and they have to be made aware of it.”

The bed turned and Undyne’s touch left his forehead. A conversation started somewhere beyond his head but the small room he was pushed into muddled the words.

According to the clock on the opposite wall, it was an hour later when Dr. Hendrix sat down at his bedside with his file in hand. Unease weighed on his soul as the doctor rubbed at their eyes with a heavy sigh before looking up at him. “I have contacted your brother and am simply waiting on his arrival before going over the following information.” Their hard gaze scrutinized his face as they threatened, “If I find out this behaviour was done with prior knowledge of your current condition, I will be having words with several people and you will not like any of it.”

His sockets widened at that even as he frowned, confused. “What-” barely made it out of his mouth before he was cut off by the door opening a second time.

Papyrus slipped in looking as tense as the last time Sans had seen him. Some of that tension eased when their gazes met. Papyrus crossed to his other side, looking to Dr. Hendrix. “I was told this was something dire.”

Sans glanced at Papyrus. Why had his brother been told it was dire? All he had done was pass out and he was sure that was from a lack of sleep and eating properly.

Oh.

He could see how that would be considered dire.

“In more ways than one.” Silence fell heavily over the room as the doctor looked between the two of them. Sans wanted to say something to get the doctor talking, to find out whatever this horrible news was and face the consequences of his actions so that he could go back to drowning himself in his work but he couldn’t get the words out. Papyrus’s hand found his shoulder and gave it a squeeze as Dr. Hendrix looked briefly at the file before meeting Sans’s gaze. “From what I’ve gathered, you have not been eating properly nor sleeping regularly. Is this correct?”

He offered a confused, drawn out, “Yes.” Hadn’t he already admitted that? Hadn’t others?

“And are you aware of how little magic that has caused you to have?”

He gave a half shrug. “I’ve kind of figured.”

“Right.” Every bit of him hated what that one word held within it. “And are you aware that you are carrying?”

Wait. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘carrying’?” Papyrus asked before he could. He could hear the same confusion he was feeling in his brother’s words.

That tight, berating expression on Dr. Hendrix’s face eased with surprise, though the disbelief stuck around when only one of the doctor’s eyebrows rose. “As it sounds. Sans, for all intent and purposes, is pregnant.”

Pregnant.

He watched as the doctor’s gaze moved to Papyrus, watched as the doctor’s lips moved, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. There was an odd roaring in his skull but he couldn’t hear anything else. There was no way he was carrying. He couldn't be carrying. The last person he had done that intimate dance with was not only dead, they hadn’t even been aiming for that. Skeleton monsters had the hardest time carrying, let alone conceiving. A new soul would have been absorbed before it could even properly form even if they had managed to accidentally sire one. He hadn’t been maintaining it, hadn’t been giving it the much needed magic all new souls required from the carrier. Stars, he wasn’t even built for that! He would most likely dust before he even got to...got to see...

Familiar boney hands were cupping his face as the sound of his brother’s voice cut through the roaring in his skull. He found himself desperately clinging to his brother’s wrists not remembering grabbing at them. His brother’s voice was nothing but a different kind of noise but it was enough to cause the dam to break.

He wept. Grief and fear churned through him and it was all he could do to not shatter in Papyrus’s hold. Papyrus pulled him up against the other’s chest and wrapped those long, strong arms tightly around him. He hollered into his brother’s chest not wanting this, not wanting any of it.

He must have cried himself to sleep because when he opened his eyes, the room was much darker and his position on the bed had changed. Papyrus was still beneath him, an arm tightly wrapped around him. There was flickering light on the walls as if there was a tv on but he couldn’t hear it. He felt lethargic; oddly enough, though, his bones felt lighter and his magic looser. He pulled his arm out from under himself and gently pushed at Papyrus’s chest to sit up. The lankier skeleton met his gaze, arm remaining snug around him.

All the words were thrown between them unspoken, thickening the air as Sans floundered for something to say. Papyrus’s jaw worked as if the other was chewing over his own words.

“Dr. Hendrix is keeping you overnight for observation,” Papyrus offered finally, his voice low and barely above a whisper. “Undyne stopped by. She wanted me to inform you that you have been put on probation for the next six months by the Dreemurrs as reprimand for not taking the required two weeks off in addition to you refusing to work in a healthy manner during the time since. They are allowing you to do moderated work from home but you are not allowed back in the Lab for the next six months. Your probation starts when you are released from the medical ward and after the allotted six hours to gather personal belongings and the necessary materials for the moderated work.”

“And the…” he found himself trying to ask but the words died in his throat. He couldn’t ask, couldn’t make it real. Not yet. Not till he saw it for himself.

Papyrus dropped his gaze briefly and for a moment his mind was filled with the worst meanings. Papyrus met his gaze again. “The new soul is still nested with yours.” He let out a shuddering breath, the relief that rushed through him like adrenaline quickly followed by guilt and shame. “Dr. Hendrix has not shared the information with anyone and has stated the two nurses that had assisted will not gossip. Patient privacy notwithstanding.”

“Is Dr. Hendrix...are they able to..."

Papyrus shook his head. “Dr. Hendrix only came across the new soul while they were checking for signs of Falling and other soul afflicting ailments. They have suggested a list of doctors but I think your reaction threw them off. The list is rather short.”

“What do you mean?”

A slight frown pulled itself across Papyrus’s expression as the other seemed to mull it over. “You started panicking,” he stated plainly. “It took a while before either of us noticed but it may have been more due to the panic having to get through the shock of finding out first.” Papyrus shook his head but Sans couldn’t tell if it was dismissive or meant for something else. “You reeled back and Dr. Hendrix took one look at you before jumping to their feet, trying to calm you down. I hadn’t even realized how panicked you were until I was on the bed getting you to face me.” His expression tightened. “It’s Alex’s, isn’t it.”

His entire body flinched from that statement and the grief that had quieted shot to the surface again. He found himself engulfed in another tight hug and he clung to his brother as he let the grief rush over him. He lacked the strength to fight against it anymore.

He calmed down feeling worn but awake. Papyrus had a hand on his skull, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the bone. He adjusted how he was resting against his brother, seeking a position that was more comfortable. Once he found it, he leaned his head back to look at his brother’s face. “I feel like I should ask why you think it’s Alex’s.”

Papyrus laughed at that, though the sound of it was breathy. He was grateful when Papyrus kept his gaze trained on the tv. “I would have been surprised if it had been anyone else’s.” Papyrus’s arms tightened around him. “And concerned. Even before all of this you were never overly promiscuous.”

Sans dropped his chin. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to make it real, but he was going to have to face it head on regardless of how ready he was for it. “Yeah,” he offered in the silence between them. “It’s,” the words caught in his throat briefly, “it’s Alex’s.”

Papyrus curled around him, those arms pinning him to the larger chest. “Oh, Sans.” He clung right back. After a long, comforting pause, Papyrus assured him, “You won’t be alone in this. I will help in any way I can.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my mistake.”

Papyrus moved back, forcing him to look up and meet his brother’s gaze. “This is not a mistake, Sans. Things like these are not mistakes.” That determined, compassionate expression fell. “But it will be hard on you in so many ways and I would understand if you chose to say no to this.”

A pain of something sharp shot through his soul as the implication behind Papyrus’s words registered. He shook his head, offering adamantly, “If I can bring this new soul into the world, I want to, Pap.” He realized his hands were shaking. “If I can carry it to term, I want to if for nothing else than selfish reasons.” He tore his gaze away from his hands, seeking out Papyrus’s gaze again. There was a lump in his nonexistent throat trying to choke him. He managed to speak around it. “I want to hang onto the last piece of Alex I have with all my soul.”

Tears streaked down Papyrus’s long face but the other didn’t seem to notice. Instead, Papyrus pulled Sans’s head to his shoulder. “Then rely on me. You’re going to need magic until either your magic levels back out or the soul is born and I am more than happy to help in any other way you need. You just have to ask.”

Sans laughed. It was light and barely had any sound to it, but it carried his relief and grief and whatever else he was feeling. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

“I know.” Those long arms tightened around him. “At least try? If not for me then the soul you carry?”

Sans buried his face more into Papyrus’s shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

That night wasn’t the best of sleep but it was more than he had had in the previous four months. Even Dr. Hendrix had commented on it as they came in to discharge him before diving into the discharge orders.

“This,” Dr. Hendrix gestured with one of the pill bottles; it sounded nearly empty, “will give you a night of deep sleep. I am only giving you one week’s worth and no, I am not giving you more. The only reason why I’m even giving this to you is because your body needs the rest but going too long without dreaming will be harmful to your psyche.” They passed the bottle to Papyrus as if Sans wasn’t to be trusted. Sans mentally shoved the assumption aside. Dr. Hendrix was giving everything to Papyrus because Papyrus was the one actively reaching out for the materials he was being sent home with. The decent sleep seemed to only make his bones feel heavier so he let Papyrus take the burden of remembering all this because he sure wasn’t going to at this point. The doctor held up the second bottle. It sounded full. “This is to assist with sleep when that is empty. It’s natural and far less addictive. I am giving you six weeks worth. I will only refill it once and only at the request of a therapist you have been seeing at least once a week. If they say you are making good progress but need the assistance for another six weeks, I’ll allow a refill.”

He nodded under the doctor’s sharp look. They had discussed the need for him to have a therapist and to actually go through with the grief counseling before the meds were even brought out. Papyrus had made him a therapy appointment for later that day before the doctor had even shown up. Papyrus had been ready to fight him on it but Sans knew he needed help - professional help. Sans wasn’t sure what he thought about seeing the same therapist as his brother but Papyrus had stayed with this particular therapist even after the grievance counseling so they had to be a good soul for Papyrus to stick with for so long.

The final bottle was presented but it made no sound. “These are nutrition supplements. This will help your physical form regain some much needed strength. Unfortunately we only give enough for four weeks per prescription so you will have to either pick up the refill every month or arrange for it to be shipped to you. There are five refills lined up but the last two may not be required. You don’t have to come back to me but I want you visiting your physician in four months for a wellness check. It will be up to that check whether you need the last two refills or not.”

“Thank you Dr. Hendrix,” he offered warmly.

The doctor nodded. “I did not reach out to your previous providers about any of this since I was not sure who you were seeing now so when you do see your doctor - and the one specifically for the new soul - inform their office to reach out to me. I’ll pass on your files.”

“You are not one of the regular doctors in the Lab, correct?” Papyrus put in as the doctor stood.

“Correct,” the doctor parroted. “I took on a few shifts here for a colleague but I can leave my information if you think coming to see me in four months will work better than your normal physician.”

“Our last one retired a couple of months ago,” Papyrus informed them.

The doctor nodded. “I’ll be back with my information, then. Give me five minutes.”
Papyrus gently shook his shoulder. “We’re here.”

He opened his sockets as the vehicle came to a stop outside a building that wasn’t their home. “What we doing at Grillby’s?”

Papyrus started grabbing their things. “We have a few hours before your appointment so it seemed like a good enough time to get you settled in.”

“Settled in? Aren’t we going home?”

Papyrus got out without answering him. Sans moved to follow his brother but the door beside him opened. Surprised, he looked out the open door to meet Grillby’s gaze.

“Hello Sans,” the fire elemental greeted warmly.

He wondered if the slight tightness at the edge was his imagination. “Hey, Grillby.” He took the offered help out and clambered to his feet. The air was crisp but it lacked the normal bite. A lot of folks were wandering around in sweaters, if that. For Snowdin, it was a balmy day and people were taking advantage of the warmer temperatures. “We bumming with you for a bit, then?”

Exhaustion gnawed at him but he was glad when his legs took his weight. It seemed the magic Papyrus had given him was helping.

“Something like that.” Grillby’s hand slipped from his in order to take one of the bags from Papyrus. “Come on. I’ll finish prepping lunch while Papyrus fills you in properly.”

Sans shot his brother a quizzical look and caught the tail end of his brother ducking his head.

It had been a long time since he had been in Grillby’s and he was disappointed that was the only thing he remembered of the place. He wasn’t surprised the fire elemental lived above the restaurant but that part of him that didn’t remember the other properly was.

They took the outside stairs - there had to be stairs inside; it wouldn’t make sense otherwise - through an unlocked door. The entryway was marked only by the tile they stepped on. Furniture marked the different spaces that made up the large living space. To the right of the door was a table surrounded by four chairs while to the left was the kitchen that opened out into the living room. The island marked the edge of the kitchen towards the living room, two bar stools tucked in under the island’s bar top. The living room had a couch and loveseat facing a simple entertainment center. The remaining space was a small lounge with two large, plush looking chairs situated before a fireplace bookended by built in shelves. There were equal amounts of books and trinkets on the shelves.

Grillby put the bag he had been carrying down outside the entryway tile. “Let me know if you two need anything.” The elemental slipped out of his shoes as he moved to the kitchen, the pair of shoes neatly placed together at the edge of the kitchen as if it was second nature. “Lunch will be done in a few minutes.”

Papyrus followed Grillby’s lead and stepped onto the carpet towards the living room. Again, shoes were neatly placed together without a foot touching the entryway tile. Sans’s shoes were not neat when he stepped sock footed onto the carpet. Not wanting to disrupt the cleanliness of the entryway, he turned around and straightened his shoes before grabbing what of theirs Papyrus had left behind. He followed after Papyrus towards a small alcove in the wall on the other side of the kitchen.

He noted two doors, one of which Papyrus entered. He glanced at the door on the left curiously before following his brother into a bedroom.

His feet stopped just past the threshold. The room was lived in - very lived in. Papyrus wasn’t a messy person; six months of relearning who his brother was had proven that to him and those six months had also shown him what signs to look for, whether he had been aware of it or not. This wasn’t looking like some temporary living arrangement. Something close to panic churned in his chest as he stared at his brother’s back.

Papyrus placed the bags down on the second, untouched bed. “I owe you an apology for the lack of communication and an explanation.” Papyrus didn’t look at him. “I haven’t been able to step foot into the house after...”

A heavy pause filled the air as Papyrus’s ribs expanded. After what? What was Papyrus...

Oh.

“It was too quiet when I tried staying there during my grievance period.”

Right.

“I don’t…”

He watched a shudder ripple down his brother’s back. He felt like such an ass.

“I have no memory of calling Grillby, of asking for his help. I somehow managed to get blackout drunk my first night alone and I still cannot recall anything from those first twenty-four hours away from the Lab.” Finally, Papyrus turned to look at him. The other’s neutral expression was well controlled. “I woke up in this room a mess but it was better than being in that silent house. I was probably being presumptuous thinking it would have been harder for you after everything today but I...” His brother’s gaze fell away and the shame cracked that carefully constructed neutral expression. “I can’t make it through you breaking down again without some sort of support.”

Sans closed the distance between them with slow steps. Papyrus didn’t look to him until he reached out and gently held onto the other’s arms. “I am not mad, nor offended.” A teasing smile pulled at his face, but the humor was more directed at himself than anything else. “I’m in no state to be taking care of myself, let alone making healthy decisions. You know that. I appreciate the forethought and you know I am all for you having extra help handling me.” The smile grew into a grin. “I’m a handful and a half and with a new soul on the way, I’m just going to be even more bothersome. You’ll be screaming for a day off soon enough.”

The huffed laugh eased some of the guilt in his chest. He hadn’t thought about how much was being asked of Papyrus when the other agreed to stay with him through this. The only hurdle for him being completely comfortable with the situation, though, was still in the kitchen. His grip tightened. “Have you told him already?”

Papyrus shook his head. “The only thing I shared was your collapse at work. We had been making lunch when I got the call. He did call to check in while you slept at some point last night but I only told him that you had pushed yourself too hard with work and an underlying condition caused the fainting spell. I was leaving it to you to tell him, if you chose to. I’m certain Grillby will take whatever information you give him without much question.”

His head bobbed in an unconscious nod. “So I have to still tell him.”

“Only if you want to,” Papyrus reminded him.

“Would probably be best, since we’re bumming at his place for the foreseeable future.” He took a few steps back, letting his hands fall from Papyrus’s arms as a smile curled across his face. He would have to bring up the length of their stay to both monsters later. “Come on. I’ve got nothing distracting me from the gnawing hunger and I was promised food.”

The kitchen was empty but the dining table held plates he was certain hadn’t been there when they had arrived. Movement at the opposite wall drew his attention to another alcove similar to the one that housed the door to Papyrus’s - and now apparently his - room. Grillby was stepping out of the alcove tugging at a vest that swift fingers quickly buttoned as their gazes met. “I apologize to the both of you. One of my staff just called out sick so I’m going down to assist until the position can get covered by another. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours but I will keep you two updated either way.”

“Holland again?” Papyrus asked, stepping around Sans to Grillby.

He watched, amused, as the lankier skeleton started doing the fire elemental’s tie as the elemental started rolling up his sleeves. “Yes. And I am growing concerned that there is more to it than simply being sick.” Grillby sighed, hand going still on a half done sleeve, gaze falling level with Papyrus’s chest.

Grillby was a foot shorter than Papyrus, which put the elemental shorter than Alex. An unwanted shudder skittered down his back. He shoved the observation away; the grief that had tailed it stayed.

Grillby went back to rolling up his sleeve, turning his gaze to the work he was doing. “It is nothing I should be bothering you with.”

Papyrus shifted forward and pressed a hand to Grillby’s neck, gaining the elemental’s gaze.

“Do you think they might date or am I seeing things?”

“I am quite content taking whatever burden you give me. You have helped us more than you can imagine and if this is the least I can do to return the favor, I will gladly do it.”

“Who?”

Grillby covered Papyrus’s hand and despite not having a mouth to smile with, Sans knew the elemental was smiling endearingly up at his brother. “Then do not overburden yourself or I will see it as a slight to all I have done.”

Papyrus laughed at that.

“Papyrus and Grillby.”

Sans shrank back from the encounter as if it would stop Alex’s words in his head. He tried focusing on the table, tried cataloging the food in a desperate attempt to drown out the roll of laughter that filled his head, to not get drawn into the memory of that particular conversation. He didn’t want to remember how Alex had managed to get him to remember their history together through confusion and guilt, of how he had felt like such an ass when it all sank in. He shouldn’t have done something so stupid as get back into Gaster’s work. He tried to show Alex that he had been serious and that he really wanted this- wanted them!

The sensation of a hot, sweaty, living body under his hands shifted suddenly to something still, something that was innately wrong, and he was half aware he was doing chest compressions, barely aware of anything else outside of the desperate scream in his soul for Alex to breathe, to wake up, to not be d-

His whole body twitched from the hand that touched his shoulder and he came face to face with his brother’s worried expression. His brother’s other hand curled around his cheek, the side of his head, and it was still warm from being against Grillby’s neck. “Sans, it’s ok,” Papyrus was speaking. If there had been words before it, he’d missed them. “You’re ok. Breathe with me. Come on now.”

The first breath caught in his chest and he choked on it - or maybe he choked on the sobs he hadn’t realized were escaping - but the second one filled his ribcage, slowly drawing him out of the memories that were swallowing him.

It took far too long for him to feel like he wasn’t drowning in grief anymore. To his utter amazement, Grillby was still there and was in the process of offering both him and his brother a glass of water. He hated how his hands shook but at least he had the strength to actually hold the glass. The liquid was cool and he guzzled it.

“I feel as if I should be apologizing,” Grillby offered, voice low and careful.

It cut through his sudden thirst and he lowered the glass. “It was nothing you did.” Unconsciously he curled around the glass in his hands. Sans’s thoughts tried returning to the vortex that he had just gotten out of. “Just a wayward thought that got out of hand.”

A warm hand covered his shoulder, drawing his gaze back to the elemental. "Still. If there are things Papyrus and I need to be careful of, let us know."

The smile came easily to his face. "That doesn't sound like the healthiest thing to do," he half joked, "but I'll let you know. I think it solely depends on how the therapist appointment goes."

"And when is it?"

"Four-thirty; in two hours,” Papyrus informed them both. Sans scowled at his glass. Great. He was still losing time and this time to a breakdown.

The conversation continued without him, though he did catch the name Bash once or twice. If he remembered correctly that was the therapist Papyrus was seeing. Hopefully this Bash was as good of a soul as he was anticipating and would actually be able to make a difference. He didn't want to live his life from breakdown to breakdown, not with a new soul on the way.

His body twitched from the warm hand that touched his shoulder. He looked up at Grillby.

"I will see you after your appointment. If you need anything, let me know."

He offered as genuine of a smile as he could muster. "I will, Grillby. Now get going. We've kept you long enough."

The fire at the top of Grillby's head crackled; the other was not comfortable leaving. Despite the internal conflict, Grillby stepped away offering last words of farewell to the both of them. Sans watched him cross to the alcove on the other side of the kitchen and disappear through the left door.

Papyrus got to his feet. “Come on. I will reheat lunch.”

Sans watched Papyrus gather what needed to be reheated, exhaustion keeping him on the floor for a moment longer. Unease was slowly creeping into his soul and he hated it. Getting to his feet, he walked over to his brother and offered his aid.

Four hours later Sans was stepping back into Grillby’s home emotionally drained. He still felt raw even after the half hour walk from the therapist’s office and Papyrus looked no better. He flopped onto the couch with a groan, fighting the urge to start crying again.

Bastian “Bash” Core was a kind soul and very good at what he did. Sans had found himself verbally and mentally outpaced the entire one-on-one conversation and had actually enjoyed it until the whole thing went south.

The session was scheduled for an hour and a half, a bit of information he had missed somewhere in the midst of the day, but it had been needed. The first half hour had been routine of him getting to know a bit about Bastian and Bastian going through the standard array of inquiries and information gathering. The hour that followed was supposed to be the actual session and, despite Sans’s initial resistance, it had progressed well. But somewhere at the top of the last half hour of the session he had been caught off guard by a sudden burst of grief and anguish that he couldn’t pull himself out of. When he was finally talked out of it by the end of the session, Papyrus had joined them. In the few minutes it took for them to leave the therapist’s office, he overheard Bastian thanking Papyrus for the assistance. Whatever had come up had not been anything Bastian had been prepared for and Sans could hear the worry in the therapist’s voice.

“I don’t want to push you but I strongly suggest at least three times a week for the next two weeks,” echoed in his head. There has been a confused frown on the therapist’s face when Bastian had urged for the multiple sessions. Even face down in the couch he could clearly see the hesitation on the therapist’s face, as if what was said next might scare Sans off completely. “It’s a lot for a new client but I think it’ll be easier for you to just come in for an hour three days a week to just talk for a bit rather than the heavy grief therapy until you feel more comfortable with facing this with me.”

Sans had his doubts over the whole thing but had agreed and scheduled the six sessions before leaving. The desire to fight ever seeing Bastian again was part of his emotional exhaustion but he knew this was the right thing to do. Three days a week for the next two weeks. Brief moments in the week where he just had to talk with Bastian for an hour, that was it. No hardcore work until he was more comfortable with this.

He pressed his face into the couch cushion more. As long as he didn’t break down in Bastian’s presence again - or ever, if he could help it - he would jump through whatever hoops it took, his pride and comfort be damned.

He flinched when Papyrus’s hand pressed into his lower back. “Sans. Grillby’s back.”

Sans pulled his head from the cushion and turned it to look awkwardly at his brother. Sure enough, Grillby was standing near the alcove watching the two of them. He offered the fire elemental a smile. “Welcome back. How was the shift?”

“Standard, which in and of itself is a good thing,” Grillby informed him. He wondered if the relief he heard was his imagination. “Did you have any preference or desires for dinner?”

The thought of food had a wave of nausea roll through him but he ignored it. The stress of the day was simply getting to him. “Nope. You two are welcome to pick something. I’ll eat just about anything.”

He heard the soft chuckle from Papyrus as he caught the signs of Grillby’s gentle smile. “Are you alright with me monopolizing Papyrus’s attention for some assistance in the kitchen?”

He laughed. “Please do. I’m just going to go back to napping.”

Papyrus looked at him but the motion had been out of the corner of his eye and the awkward angle made it impossible to make out anything significant.

He listened to Papyrus strike up a conversation with Grillby as the lanky skeleton left his side. He let his gaze fall onto the entertainment center as the sound of their voices rolled over him. Despite his words, he had no intentions of napping. After the day he'd had, dealing with a nightmare was at the bottom of his list. Hopefully the meds Dr. Hendrix had given him worked. At the rate he was going, he needed to actually sleep through the night for once.

He shot upright, soul racing. It had been faint, almost imperceptible, but he knew he had heard his name being shouted. He tumbled off his mattress in his attempt to get up and landed on the clothing strewn floor with a resounding thud. Searing pain laced across his ribs pulling a pained cry from his chest. Rolling over as best he could tangled in the sheets, he moved the hand he had instinctively pressed to his sternum.

The shirt he was wearing was ripped, outlining the long gash across his ribs from shoulder to opposite hip. Red was turning the grey shirt black and his hand was slathered in it.

Another faint call of his name tore his attention to the open bedroom door. Something dark streaked the mess covered floor and open door frame. A sense of urgency filled him.

Fear had driven that shout.

He was up and through the door without knowing how he had gotten free of the sheets. He grabbed at the railing opposite his door long enough to trace the streaks down the stairs, through the living room, and out the front door.

He caught movement through the living room window.

His feet barely touched the stairs as he barreled down them, slamming into the wall at the bottom. It barely fazed him as he promptly leapt the last two steps from the landing. The impact tried to buckle his knees but desperation kept him upright enough to maintain his momentum.

The wind was bitter cold as it slammed into him. Bare feet touching ice and snow sent spikes of agony up his legs that he barely noticed and promptly ignored.

The streaks turned right outside the front door and rounded the house. He chased after the streaks, soul pounding in his chest as if it could shatter his ribs from the inside. He chased them round to the back of the house only to stumble to a stop just around the last corner.

If there had been a door, it no longer existed. Instead, whatever had streaked the ground, his door, the floors, it was all over the door frame and seemed to have splattered outwards from the opening coating the backside of the house and a good stretch of snow in the opposite direction. Dread tore at him at the sight.

A familiar voice screamed his name from the bowels of the dark descent before him.

He dove head first into that darkness driven by a madness he could barely name.

The end of the stairs appeared without warning. With no light to see by, he slammed into the floor with a resounding, metallic thud. The searing pain across his chest returned with a vengeance. He curled around it, trying in vain to quell the hurt.

His name was yelled again.

Pain or not, he was running out of time. The railing of the walkway was cold to the touch as he pulled himself to his frozen feet. The pounding of his bare feet against the metal walkway filled his skull as he chased after the echoes of his name, half aware of the red lit, seemingly endless expanse the suspended walkway cut through.

The walkway became a hallway without his knowing. It looked oddly like the Lab without actually being the Lab, dark and dingy notwithstanding. Panic wrapped itself around his thudding soul as he feared he had lost track of the streaks. It wasn’t until he ran past another hallway that he realized that the hallway wasn’t dark and dingy, it was covered by the streaks.

His shouted name was much louder now.

He rounded the corner as fast as he could manage.

The floor was unrelenting as he fell backwards in an attempt to stop as quickly as possible. The mass now barely feet from him shifted and moved and turned to look at him. Terror filled his soul as a familiar hand closed around his upper arm. His brother tugged at his arm, shouting his name, getting him to his feet. “Come on!”

“We can’t leave him!” he shouted back, fighting his brother’s grip. The regret and acceptance that marred his brother’s face made his soul sink with dread. He yanked harder but his brother had always been the stronger of them, even before this mess. “No! Please!”

His name was screamed from somewhere behind him, in the direction of the mass, but his brother didn’t react to the sound.

“Brother, please! We have to go! If we don’t, Decos will get us and this will all be for nothing!”

“Not without Dings!”

“There you two are!” Someone he didn’t recognize - someone whose features were nothing more than a haze in his eyes - scooped them both up. The stranger was larger than the both of them but seemed unusually thin despite the size. “Time to go,” the stranger spoke, pinning Sans to an unfamiliar body as his brother ran at the stranger’s side.

He was left with a clear view of the undulating mass behind them. It was nothing more than blackness backlit by a raging fire that was quickly consuming the hallway. He yelled in fear and frustration and the magic he was still not used to responded.

He barely got the magic gathered with a formed intent before something shot through his right socket.

What magic he had gathered shattered in his control and turned on him. White hot pain erupted from his socket and the sudden hold around him was excruciating.

He screamed.

“Sans!”

His name - not the name he had been chasing, not the one he knew - cut through his hysteria. He froze, left socket wide as he found his hands closing around warm forearms. He couldn’t see out of his right socket. There was a pressure on it keeping it closed. Pain still curled through him from it but he could make out his brother and Grillby over him, could see Papyrus had his left hand pressed hard against Sans’s right socket. Green healing magic looked like liquid flames as the magic danced around Papyrus’s hand and forearm.

Papyrus’s other hand was on his chest and engulfed in a similar liquid flame of magic, only it was orange magic, not green. Grillby was at Sans’s other side, hands on his upper arms as if to keep him pinned as Papyrus worked. Sans loosened his grip on the elemental’s forearms, his entire body trembling.

Both monsters spoke words he couldn’t retain, relief easing both of their tense forms.

Papyrus’s magic never wavered.

Everything hurt. It wasn’t just a simple ache in the bone, it was full on pain. It was like his very essence was attempting to shatter and Papyrus’s magic was forcing him to stay whole. If Papyrus stopped, Sans wasn’t sure he wouldn’t shatter into a million little pieces and become Dust, no matter how much magic the other had given him.

A rapid succession of thoughts sent a wave of panic through him and he grabbed at Papyrus’ forearm over his chest. “Pap. The soul.”

“Not until you are stable,” Papyrus bit back, the words quaking with things Sans couldn’t decipher.

Tears unbidden filled his sockets and he blinked back what he could. The tears in his right socket escaped from under Papyrus's hand as if to spite his desires. “Please, Papyrus. I can’t-I’ll be fine. It'll be fine. But I need you to check.”

Papyrus’s face twisted as if he was in pain but Papyrus was already moving. Sans felt the magic at his chest stop. The healing magic continued strong and controlled. Sans shuddered when Papyrus’s magic wrapped around his soul. The tug didn’t hurt but his soul leaving his chest left him feeling overexposed. The urge to safeguard it and the new soul was hard to fight.

Papyrus didn’t respond to his hands clamping down harder on his forearm.

For a breath, all Sans saw was the manifestation of his Integrity blue soul hovering over his chest. His breath caught but before his thoughts could spiral out of control and throw him into the despair that awaited him, something drew his attention.

At first it looked like some abnormal magic orbiting his soul, unaffected and untouched by Papyrus’s magic. It wasn’t unusual but definitely enough of an oddity to draw his attention. It wasn’t till it was fully on the side of his soul he was seeing that he realized it was the new soul.

It was pure white unclaimed by any specific trait. Unless the little soul gained access to magic, it would always be white till the being it would create Dusted.

That little soul, less than a tenth of the size of Sans’s, was Alex’s last mark on the world, on him.

That little soul was their kid.

“It’s alright,” Papyrus offered softly, drawing Sans’s gaze. An odd strain edged the closed off expression. “But I need to put your soul back. Any longer and we risk you Falling.”

Sans dropped his hands from Papyrus’s arm. Papyrus’s magic vanished and he felt the weight of his soul return to the center of his chest. Papyrus’s hand followed it, pressing heavily into Sans’s chest and resuming the magic transfer.

Relief for the agony he had woken to washed through him and he sagged into the floor. Had he fallen off the couch or had Papyrus dragged him to the floor for better access?

“You are carrying.”

He opened his left socket, coaxing his magic into an eyelight at Grillby’s careful words. The fire elemental's expression was curious but it could have been crafted for all he knew. “Yeah,” he confirmed, not that the evidence hadn’t made that obvious. “Have been for four months now without knowing it. Found out yesterday after I collapsed at work. The doc that looked me over threatened severe consequences because of it until it was made clear I had no idea.”

Papyrus shifted above him, drawing both his and Grillby's attention. What he saw made his soul ache. He quickly covered the hand on his chest, uttering a soft, "Papyrus."

Papyrus met his gaze and the tears that had been pooling in Papyrus's sockets finally spilled over. "What did you dream about, Sans?" Papyrus all but demanded. "The last time you expended that much magic had been when you attacked Alex."

He squeezed Papyrus's hand. "I’m not sure, Pap.” He hesitated, suddenly unsure if he even wanted to share it. Something about it had been far too real - Papyrus’s hand had yet to leave his socket, let alone the healing magic to stop - yet he knew it had only been a dream. Papyrus’s fingers curled around his. “It’s not pretty,” he warned.

Papyrus let out a bitter laugh. “I gathered that when your magic started churning the air as you slept.” What humor had appeared vanished immediately. “What did you see?”

What little resistance had formed against telling his brother fell away. “I don’t really remember the beginning of the dream, just the ending, but that’s probably where my magic reacted anyways.” He rubbed his thumb against Papyrus’s hand, drawing on the only part of the dream that had seared itself into his brain. “What I do remember starts with you yanking on my arm trying to get me away from some thing, some mass that was a very real threat for some unknown reason.” A frown pulled at his expression as he found he couldn’t remember something that had been so odd. “You were trying to get me to safety but I wanted to save whoever had been shouting my name. Weird thing, though, was that whatever was being shouted hadn’t been Sans. I don’t even know who it had been shouting but I had been desperate to save them.” He made a face. “Not sure if I’m missing anything but the next thing I know I’m looking at the mass as an inferno’s coming up behind it and before I can even do anything with the magic I had gathered to do something with, something hit me in the right socket and I was in pain I’d never felt before.”

He rubbed at his left socket as if it would help get rid of the itch that had formed in the right one. Papyrus dismissed the healing magic as he pulled the hand from Sans’s socket. He opened both sockets and tried focusing on Papyrus only to find that the sight in his right socket was blurry where his left was sharp. It left Papyrus oddly haloed. He blinked a few times but it didn’t help.

Papyrus rubbed at the remains of the tears on Sans’s right cheek. “Could it have been a memory?”

Sans shrugged. “Of when? I’m fairly certain neither of us have gone up against some blob in what had to have been our younger years.” When the concern didn’t immediately leave Papyrus’s face, he added uneasily, “Have we?”

Papyrus let out a sharp sigh, withdrawing completely. Sans let the other’s hand slip from his. “I wish I knew. Our history has been the latest topic of discussion with Bash and it has left an unease that is refusing to go away. Even before those conversations, there was your coma and our connection with that Dr. Gaster you discovered. Both of us lacking the memories of our younger years wouldn’t be surprising after everything.”

Sans sat up.

Well, he tried to.

Agony flared across his ribs. His body spasmed from it which only made it worse. If he had cried out in pain, he hadn’t heard it, but he did feel the others’ hands on him.

For one disorientating moment, he wasn’t sure what they were doing. It wasn’t till he managed to crack open a socket that he even realized the pair were speaking. Thankfully it seemed like they were speaking to each other rather than him because he wasn’t hearing a word of it.

It took much longer before he realized that both of them were brightly illuminated by healing magic.

“Sans, hey, look at me,” Papyrus urged. Sans jumped at the sudden sound, a hiss escaping when it sent a spike of pain across his body. He managed to crack a socket back open. “I need you to uncurl for me. Grillby and I need to see what damage we are trying to heal.”

He didn’t like how that had been worded. Slowly, carefully, he worked on straightening back out. It seemed to work because, outside of a number of spikes, the pain had been at a dull roar the entire time. As soon as he was on his back, though, both bodies above him were moving. Sans couldn’t remember what shirt he had been wearing and was startled when he caught sight of the gray fabric of a t-shirt as Grillby bunched the fabric under his chin.

“Highest,” Grillby muttered, jerking back. The green healing magic flickered and blinked out around his hands, one of which curled towards the elemental’s own chest.

“Shit,” Papyrus hissed, scaring Sans more than Grillby’s reaction. A shudder rolled through his whole body as Papyrus’s healing magic pressed into his ribs. “Grillby, Dr. Hendrix’s number is in the plastic bag on Sans’s bed. I need you to go get it for me.”

“Pap?” His voice quaked but it was all he could do to keep from panicking fully as Grillby ran to the bedroom. “Pap, what’s wrong? Why are you having Grillby get Dr. Hendrix’s number?”

There was a breath before Papyrus met his gaze. He fully expected the next words to be a lie. He was surprised when they weren’t. “The gash across your chest is..." Papyrus shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it but it isn’t good and I am not skilled enough to even begin to fathom how to repair any of it.”

Hysteria edged the ending of Papyrus’s words and Sans raised his hand dealing with the pain the motion caused. He held onto Papyrus’s forearm, the farthest he could manage before the pain got too much. “Hey,” he urged softly, hearing Grillby return. “I’m going to be ok. Grillby’s back with Dr. Hendrix’s number, I’ve got more magic in me than I’ve probably had in months thanks to you, and what healing magic you are using is probably keeping whatever is wrong from getting worse.” He gave Papyrus’s arm a squeeze. “It’ll be ok.”

Papyrus gave a weak laugh at that, reaching up with the hand Sans was keeping pinned and taking his phone from Grillby; the fire elemental had tapped in the phone number on Papyrus’s phone. “I thought I was supposed to be the one reassuring you,” Papyrus countered, tucking the phone between shoulder and skull in order to return his hand back to Sans’s chest.

Sans grinned at him. “You can later when I finally see what’s got you so panicked.”
“I’m not sure how you've managed to shove four months into almost nine hours but I meant what I said about not needing to see you for four months, Sans,” Dr. Hendrix informed him as they knelt at his side.

“Hey, what can I say? Missed your company.”

Dr. Hendrix snorted at that. “I’m sure. Now, we’re going to start poking and prodding as we examine the extent of the damage. When something becomes unbearable, speak up. Otherwise, you are just going to have to deal with it until I’m done.”

He gave a short dip of his chin, a nod, before Dr. Hendrix got to work with whoever they had brought with - Lilac or something; honestly, he hadn’t paid the slightest attention when they had been introduced at the door. Papyrus sat above his head while Grillby hovered near the kitchen out of Sans’s line of sight. Foreign magic weaved itself in among his ribs and a strange weight settled among the bones.

The first prod sent fire through his ribs and he managed to strangle the yelp into a hiss of air sucked through clenched teeth. Dr. Hendrix and the other personnel paused, looking at him. He shook his head, a tremor of pain coursing through his body for his choice of action. “I’m good. Just surprised me.”

He had no concept of time as they continued. He had no idea what the foreign magic was for; if it was for the pain, it was either completely useless or the pain was more than the magic could counter. All he knew was fluctuating pain as they prodded and Papyrus's soothing touch on his head. When they finished checking him over, it felt like he had been suffering through it for a good few hours. Everything ached. Had he the magic for it, he was certain a cold sweat would have been clinging to his bones.

“You’ve certainly had a number done on your ribs. Though, had no one informed me that your socket had been damaged as well, I wouldn’t have been able to tell.”

“That would be thanks to his brother,” Grillby piped in. “Papyrus has a far greater capacity for healing magic than I do and he had taken to Sans’s socket as soon as he saw the injury.”

Dr. Hendrix raised an eyebrow - his viewing angle made it hard to tell if it was a show of curiosity or if that had impressed the doctor - before looking to Papyrus. “Ever thought of joining the medical field? A bit of training and you would be a valuable asset.”

Papyrus smiled weakly. “I will keep that in mind if I ever tire of being a guard.”

“So what’s the damage, doc?” Sans asked. Papyrus swatted his forehead at the pun and he grinned. His chest still ached, leaving him no desire to chuckle.

Dr. Hendrix turned a sobering look onto him. He suddenly didn’t want to know. “You have multiple displaced fractures that follow a rough line from your right clavicle near the shoulder to the lowest point of the ribcage on the left-hand side.” He glanced up at Papyrus in shock, sockets wide. His brother tried to offer him a smile but the expression was too taut to be comforting. His soul started pounding in his chest, a low panic starting to seep into his bones as unwanted memories sank their teeth into the back of his mind. “There is quite the number of hairline fractures that branch out all over your chest to the point that I’m surprised none of it turned into comminuted fractures; though what healing your brother did do to your chest may be behind that.”

“Comminuted?” Sans asked, the word failing to define itself in his head.

“The type of fracture that creates more than two pieces; lots of pieces and shards from a single break sort of fracture. In a not so pleasant image sort of way: if the hairline fractures had become comminuted, your ribcage would have shattered.”

A shudder coursed through him, earning him a wave of pain. “Lovely,” he ground out.

“Even with healing magic, it can take months for comminuted fractures to heal and to properly heal depends on what remains and what has to be regrown or grafted.” He shivered when the doctor placed a hand on his chest. Pain skittered after the shiver but it barely registered. “Your brother’s magic has done an amazing job repairing some of the damage but we still have to deal with the displaced fractures that cross your chest before we can heal the hairline fractures.”

“So I should expect more pain?”

Dr. Hendrix frowned. “Hopefully not. At this point, Illic’s magic should be enough to neutralize anything significant into an annoyance.” The doctor’s attention turned to Papyrus. “Are you willing and able to use more healing magic? There is less of a chance his form will reject the aid with how much he needs.”

“If you think it can help,” Papyrus assured them.

“Then get on his other side. We’ll be holding the bones in place as you work.”

Papyrus rose to his feet. “Grillby.”

But the fire elemental was already there, a hand going to Papyrus’s arm. “I have him. Please avoid overdoing it.”

Grillby took Papyrus's place at the top of Sans's head. Warm hands traced from his forehead to his temples, the fire elemental's fingers stilling against the back of his skull and neck. To his surprise, Grillby took the weight of his skull doing that, supporting it an inch or so off the floor. It gave him a better view of his brother; he was glad it didn't make his view of his chest any better.

"Sans." He looked to Dr. Hendrix. "Bear with us a few moments longer.”

“Already bared my chest for ya, doc,” he joked. Illic snorted and Papyrus swatted at his shoulder for that. “I’m sure I can bear whatever else you’ve got for me.”

He hoped the look in Dr. Hendrix’s gaze was humor before it shifted to Grillby. “Best to keep him distracted if you can. The less he pays attention to our hands, the better.”

“Of course,” Grillby offered with a nod.

Dr. Hendrix turned to Papyrus. “Alright. All you’ll have to do is provide the magic as we realign..."

“Have you told anyone else?”

He looked up at Grillby, losing track of the conversation happening over his chest. “Told anyone?” he parroted.

“About the new soul.”

Oh, duh. “No, I haven’t.”

“Planning to?”

He wanted to shake his head no but Grillby’s hands were firm against either side of his skull. “No. I..." He frowned. “Even if the soul drops without any problems, I might not tell anyone until the soul’s born.”

Grillby frowned at him. “So you are anticipating this to progress as expected, then.”

Surprise rushed through him. “Expected? You know about skeleton reproduction?”

There was a burst of pain but it quickly dulled. He hissed from it anyways, doing his best to stay relaxed. Grillby started rubbing his thumb against Sans’s cheek. “Probably more than you are expecting,” the fire elemental informed him, gaining his attention again. The frown deepened. “Though, what information I know is a touch rusty. You are the first skeleton in a good fifty or so years that I have known personally to carry.”

“Huh.” The pause hadn’t been intentional as another shot of pain distracted him briefly. It was gone as quickly as the first but it still pulled a choked noise from him. “You know, I feel like I should have expected that about you.”

Grillby chuckled. “It is not a topic that crops up in polite conversation.”

Sans grinned at him. “And yet.”

Grillby shook his head, amused. “Will you be nesting the soul for the full nine months, then?”

What humor he had vanished at the serious topic. “I have to. My body isn’t really durable enough to create another soul. If the new soul is going to make it through the remaining four and a half months after dropping, I have to give it a fighting chance.”

“So the lack of te-”

White hot, all too familiar pain shot through his chest. Terror chased the pain through his limbs. He screamed, jerking his limbs in an attempt to get away only to find himself pinned. The cry that escaped him was strangled by a sob. He thrashed about. He could feel words escaping his mouth but the roaring in his skull made it impossible for him to comprehend any of it.

“Sans!”

He gasped, choked, and started coughing. Pain rippled through him with each convulsion but the coughing fit didn’t last long. He sucked in greedy breaths of air as his brother’s words finally made it through the noise in his head.

“I’ve got you,” he was saying. “It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

He started sobbing.

Time passed but he didn’t know how much had slipped away. What he did know was that he was still holding onto his brother’s forearms and Papyrus was still bent over him, their foreheads pressed together. Papyrus’s left thumb rubbed at his cheek. “Sans?” the lankier asked tentatively.

“I’m here,” he assured the other, though it came out in a croak.

Papyrus pulled away. A shiver raced through him and, for the first time in a very long time, he felt cold. Grillby’s warm hands returned to his head and he leaned into the warmth.

“I apologize, Sans,” Dr. Hendrix offered softly. “I had hoped your lack of awareness would help more than hinder our efforts.”

He waved the doctor off with a heavy hand as Grillby started rubbing his forehead. The other warm hand cradled the back of his skull. Papyrus’s hands had yet to leave his face. “Don’t worry about it, doc. Didn’t think I’d react that way either.”

Not that he could actually tell anyone how he had reacted. Beyond the panic and the pain, he couldn't actually remember anything.

“Sans.” He focused on Dr. Hendrix again. “We have to do that two more times.”

Dread dropped his soul to his stomach and it was all he could do to suppress the panic that tried surging through him again. He didn’t want to be back there again, even if it was just the memories. “What?” escaped him in a breathy squawk. The next word wasn’t much better. “Why?”

“You healed faster than I had anticipated. We have to re-break your sternum to get it realigned. We’re doing what we can to neutralize the pain as we work but your construct is extremely sensitive and I can’t do it again without giving you fair warning.” A whimper escaped him against his bidding. Dr. Hendrix gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Two more breaks and that should be the last of it.”

He tried for a cheeky grin but it felt off on his face and fresh tears leaked out of his sockets at the motion. “Can’t knock my ass out with the good stuff while you do it?”

Papyrus’s thumbs rubbed the tears away.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, almost painfully. “If I thought they would do anything for you, you would have been drugged immediately, but Illic’s magic is stronger than any drug I could give you and you’re still feeling a considerable amount of pain.”

“Shit,” he hissed. Papyrus removed a hand from his face and wrapped it around his left hand tightly. He desperately squeezed back seeking his brother’s gaze.

“Just two more, Sans, and the worst of it will be over,” Papyrus urged. “You can make it through this. I know you can.”

“Pap,” he tried but his voice broke and the memories that had barely retreated swallowed him. It was all he could do to keep from sobbing. They had killed the damn psychopath; why did he have to be haunted by him?

“I am right here, Sans,” Papyrus assured him. “You’re safe and with people we can trust. Only two more breaks and I will be healing both of them as soon as they are set. Just two more.”

The memories fought to keep their hold on him; they were winning. He managed a weak, shaky, “Ok,” in the wake of his brother’s words anyway.

Papyrus’s touch left him and panic burst through his system. Grillby reached over him and took hold of the hand that he raised to grab Papyrus. The warmth of Grillby’s hand cut through the panic, grounding him better in reality than he had expected. Grillby gently pulled his hand over his head till his arm rested in the fire elemental’s lap. Pain shot through his chest but he didn’t care. As long as it meant he could keep hold of reality, he’d take it.

“Raise your other arm so that you’re symmetrical,” Dr. Hendrix directed, “if you want to stay like that.”

The pain was worse when he tried to raise his right arm and his entire body convulsed from it, stealing a pained gasp from him. Grillby’s hand was in his right at the same time Dr. Hendrix’s hands found his arm. He barely registered Papyrus’s hand on the side of his face.

“Dr. Hendrix?” Papyrus asked, bringing Sans’s awareness back to center. He couldn’t remember closing either socket and only managed to open the left one. His magic refused to form an eyelight so he was left with the blurry blobs of color that were Papyrus, Dr. Hendrix, and Illic.

“Sans, I need you to try and not brace for the breaks,” Dr. Hendrix said instead. Whether it was a deliberate choice to ignore Papyrus’s question or something nonverbal had answered in lieu of words was unclear. He made a face and the doctor’s hand returned to his shoulder. “I know, I get it, but if you tense, your magic will fight us as we do it and we’ll only cause you more pain.”

He squeezed Grillby’s hand and forearm. The fire elemental had returned the other hand to his forehead. “No, yeah. That makes sense. It’s all…” He sucked in a shuddering breath, faint waves of throbbing pain dancing across his ribs and spine. “Just be quick.”

“We will be.”

Dr. Hendrix’s attention moved away from him and he committed to just keeping his sockets closed. He could hear them moving around over him, could hear them talking, and it was a relief when Grillby drew his focus. “Sans, I want you to listen to me, to focus on what I’m saying. I will be listing a number of items and I want you to categorize them.”

A breathy laugh escaped him. “Yeah, ok. What kind of things?”

“Fruits and vegetables.”

He made a face. “That is not my strong suit, Grills.”

The fire elemental’s amusement danced in among his words. “That is the point, Sans.”

Searing pain exploded in his chest and his body reacted underneath it. Hands held him firm, holding him in place, and it was all he could do to not get lost in the memories again, to calm down and relax and not make it worse.

The whole thing was over in less than a minute; it had felt excruciatingly longer than that. Papyrus’s magic was precise and powerful, snatching away the pain nearly as quickly as it had slammed into him. Tremors danced through his body and he felt even colder than before.

“One more,” Dr. Hendrix announced.

He hated those words.

“Sans.” He pulled his attention back to Grillby, not wanting to give into the distraction, not wanting to do that again. “I am going to give you ten things. I want you to remember all ten and then tell me which ones are fruits and which ones are vegetables, both categories alphabetized.”

He hated those words, too. “Fine.”

Grillby listed ten ingredients in quick succession and he was certain he had forgotten at least two of them when the elemental stopped talking. Surprisingly, he remembered what most of them were but he couldn’t remember what tomatoes counted as. He was certain it was a trick question but he wasn’t about to give in-

Something cracked. For some reason, he didn’t understand what it had been.

Pain caught up with the sound.

Voices were talking. Urgent, worried voices. He couldn’t understand what was being said - his skull felt like it was packed to bursting with wool - but he knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Or maybe it was the situation that wasn’t good.

Something had happened, something serious. He could remember waking up from a nap while they waited for Grillby to get home. For some reason Dr. Hendrix was called and another was brought along, Lilac or something, but why? What had happened?

A tingling sensation finally drew his focus to his body and whatever had been blocking out the pain broke. A hiss escaped him. He shrank away from his brother’s magic as if it was the source of his agony. He knew it wasn’t, could feel the orange magic weaving into his bones and holding him together, but it hurt and all he wanted was for the pain to stop.

Surprisingly no hands joined his brother’s and he suffered the consequences of his wiggling. The wool in his skull fell away and the words around his snapped into clarity.

“-ine. He’s coming back around,” Dr. Hendrix was saying, voice taut. “Sans? Can you hear me?” A beat. “Are you able to acknowledge me?”

It took more than he cared to admit to speak. “I 'ear’a,” he slurred, exhaustion wrapping around him.

A collective sigh escaped the room and some of the pressure on his chest eased. Dr. Hendrix’s hand found his forehead, sending a shiver down his spine. The doctor’s hand was hot. “Sans, I need you to stay conscious for me. Do you know what happened?”

He tried to shake his head no but couldn’t tell if it moved. “Nuh.”

“Your form gave out.”

Either his brain hiccupped or he didn’t understand what that meant.

“You tried Dusting on us.”

The tiny shot of adrenaline had him blinking sockets to clear the magic in them, the world quickly coming into fuzzy clarity. He barely noticed the flinch he had at the light. “Dusting?” he parroted, at a loss.

“I’m not sure what happened,” Dr. Hendrix confessed. “You had been stable up through the last break only for your body to suddenly give out.” There was a glance towards Papyrus. “Papyrus was transferring magic before either Illic or myself were able to register what had happened. I have only seen a small handful of trained professionals effectively and efficiently transfer magic and heal at the same time.”

“‘N no 'dea why?” he questioned.

Dr. Hendrix shook their head. “When Papyrus has you stable, I am having you transported to the hospital. We’ll be able to run tests and make sure this isn’t something that’s life threatening.” A softer look crossed the doctor’s face. “It will be far safer to check on the souling at the hospital than it will be here, especially since I do not want to stress it out more than it has already been stressed. Any chance there was time to pick a pediatrician?”

Papyrus answered for him. “No. We had other priorities after we saw you.”

“I thought as much but I had to ask.”

Grillby shifted over his head. “Did you have someone that has worked with skeletons?”

Dr. Hendrix gave him a shrewd look. “Do you know one?”

“Dr. Albit Kole from New Home. He worked with the doctor who assisted with a skeleton I knew 50 years ago who carried.”

“Call and see if he’s available to make the trip today.” The doctor blinked. “Or give me his contact information and I can have my team do it.”

The transport arrived ten minutes later and despite the magical transfer from Papyrus having replenished over half of his magic, they didn’t let him stand. He was helped into a sitting position - there were only faint cracks marking where the largest cracks had resided on his chest, everything else completely healed - for a short while before he was hoisted onto the gurney and wheeled out.

The ride was pleasant despite the severity of the situation. Papyrus rode in the back of the transport with him appearing to be a bit more at ease than he had been earlier. The medic in the back maintained some light conversation between him and his brother, making the ride all that much shorter.

Dr. Hendrix didn’t appear again until he was in a private room for a good thirty minutes idly flipping through tv channels. “Apologies for the wait,” the doctor offered in lieu of a greeting. “I had to handle some paperwork and set up the tests. Shouldn’t be anything too terribly intrusive and should take less than an hour.”

“Is Dr. Kole able to come?” Papyrus inquired as Sans watched a nurse come in with a wheelchair and park it next to his bed. The nurse gave Sans an encouraging smile. He returned it.

“Yes. He’ll be here in a few hours which will give us time to get the test results back.” Dr. Hendrix looked to the nurse. “Be careful with that one, Tol.”

“Of course, Doctor.” The nurse looked back at him. “I’m Tolbara. I’ll be taking you to the different tests and moving you in and out of the wheelchair. If you are ready, I’ll be picking you up and placing you into the wheelchair now so that we can get these done as quickly as possible and get you back with your companion.”

Sans pushed the warm blanket away. “Just don’t drop me,” he joked, hoping to hide the shivering that started as soon as the warmth was gone. It felt so strange to feel cold so sharply with so much magic in his system.

“Never,” Tolbara assured him with a grin, arms slipping around his back and under his knees. The nurse lifted him as if he was nothing more than a pile of sheets; he knew he had some weight, he’d read the scale when they had weighed him earlier. Tolbara sat him in the wheelchair with that same ease and obvious practice, hands always in the right places to make sure he didn’t hurt himself or get smacked around. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief when Tolbara wrapped a fresh hot blanket around him. “Alright. All set?”

“Am now.” He looked to Papyrus. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Papyrus nodded, gesturing with the tv remote. “I’ll be here.”

The tests went by quickly and the only one he had an issue with was the one that had him standing awkwardly against a wall for a good ten minutes. Papyrus had given him plenty of magic so standing for ten minutes shouldn’t have been a problem, but when the machinery was moved and Tolbara stood before him giving him the all clear to relax, he sagged into the nurse, unable to sustain his own weight anymore.

“How're you holding up?” Tolbara asked once he was wrapped back up on the wheelchair. The shivering had returned with a vengeance. Not only were his teeth chattering from it but nearly every bone was. It was ridiculous.

“F-fine now,” he managed around his chattering teeth.

Tolbara’s concerned frown deepened. “The next test is the last one and you should be able to keep the hot blanket. I’ll grab you a new one for when the test is done, too.”

The last test felt like the longest. The urge to doze during it would have won out if the technician hadn’t talked to him the entire time.

Wrapped in a new hot blanket and back in the wheelchair, he really did doze off.

He woke to gentle knocking, blinking his sockets blearily at the door as it opened. Dr. Hendrix was there with another doctor he didn’t recognize. Papyrus stood from his seat by the bed.

“Have a nice nap, Sans?” Dr. Hendrix inquired as the other doctor closed the door.

“Unintentionally,” he said.

Dr. Hendrix nodded. “Sans, Papyrus, this is Dr. Kole, the one Grillby referred. Dr. Kole, this is Sans and his brother Papyrus.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Dr. Kole greeted, smiling warmly. “Dr. Hendrix has filled me in on what has happened and why my presence is required. Sans, are you comfortable with me checking the new soul in Dr. Hendrix’s stead.”

“Of course. Do you need me to do anything?”

“Only to relax. I’ll be using Green Magic to check your soul and the nested soul over.”

Sans found himself nodding, settling back into the mattress.

The foreign magic sent a shudder down his spine but the exhaustion that had got him to nap earlier made it hard for him to register the conversation that happened over his soul. He knew Papyrus was actively listening, inputting when he failed to, and understood enough to know that Dr. Kole was walking Dr. Hendrix through his observations, though it seemed Dr. Hendrix was doing some studying of his soul in turn over Dr. Kole’s shoulder.

The examination seemed brief as his soul returned to his chest. Dr. Hendrix placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, urging gently, “Get some rest, Sans. There’s nothing that you have to be aware of for the next few hours.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

When he woke, the room was much darker. Someone had turned off the lights and what little glowing came from the equipment made it difficult to see anything. He could make out his brother’s form at the opposite wall on what he was assuming was some form of bed but that was about it. Night had very clearly settled over the hospital and it left him wondering what the time was.

The door clicked open, filling part of the room with light. It was contained by a curtain that had been drawn between the door and the rest of the room, leaving Papyrus better illuminated but undisturbed. An unfamiliar nurse slipped in between the curtains and offered him a soft smile. “Good morning,” the stranger whispered, walking over. “I’m Deborah, the AM nurse. I’m just checking on your levels real quick.”

“What time is it?” he asked, keeping his voice just as quiet.

Deborah tapped the screen of her watch. “5:06.” She met his gaze. “Do you need anything while I’m here? Water? Food?”

He watched her check the equipment as the inquiry settled in his tired mind. He blinked at her, finally answering with, “Can I get another hot blanket? And water would be nice.”

“Any ice?”

“No. Thank you.”

She smiled at him as she tucked one of the screens back in place. “Of course. I’ll be back in a moment with both.”

He wasn’t sure how long that “moment” turned out to be. When she returned, he had dozed back off and woke to the door opening again. She placed a few things down before turning to him. The glass was cool beneath his fingers but he didn't try taking it out of her hand, taking long pulls from the straw. She set the glass next to the fresh water jug and pulled the pile of blankets briefly off to put the new one against him, trapping its warmth around him.

She slipped back out with a smiled goodbye.

The room returned to darkness.

“Do you want to hear what Dr. Kole and Dr. Hendrix had to say or wait until you are more awake?”

He looked towards his brother, not surprised the other was awake but unable to see him. “We can talk now if you want.”

There was movement at the foot of his bed and it moved along the right edge to the lamp that clicked on. Papyrus looked as tired as he felt but the lankier simply sat on the edge of the bed. “The new soul is fine but yours isn’t.”

He winced at the implication. “Straight to the point, then. And the specifics?”

“Your soul has a number of cracks. They should fade over the next few days but Dr. Hendrix is expecting it to take at least another week before you start generating your own magic again.”

Panic sank its teeth into him but he barely noticed. A number of questions sprang to mind and he started with the most concerning one. “I don’t understand. I have magic, though.”

Papyrus let out a sharp breath, mild frustration coloring the thoughtful frown. “From how I understood it, the magic I gave you is simply in you. Your soul has not taken it and utilized it as it should have, as if it doesn’t even realize it’s there. Dr. Kole said the new soul is healthy and appeared unharmed. It took what magic it needed without your soul’s assistance - which he said was a good sign, especially when its draw gets beyond what you can generate.”

A pause settled in Papyrus’s summary. He prompted, “So my being cold…”

“Is a sign that you are not generating magic, that what magic you do house is not circulating like it is supposed to.” A breath. “Sans, Dr. Hendrix is very concerned about this. The minimum is only if the damage to your soul properly heals as it is supposed to.”

“It might not?”

Papyrus shook his head. “According to both doctors, this kind of thing is rare to the point of almost unheard of. Most Dust with the kind of damage your soul took.”

“It’s connected to me nearly Dusting yesterday, then.”

That heavy gaze was answer enough. “Dr. Hendrix believes so. There has been some speculation on when exactly the cracks appeared since I do not remember seeing them when I checked your soul. The most probable answer is when they broke your sternum the first time - when your magic was triggered again. Despite how much I must have given you, Dr. Hendrix said it was very possible that the triggered memory caused unintentional damage to your soul, either by your magic turning inward as before or by expending far more magic than your soul had left after the initial outburst.”

He pulled a hand out from under the blankets, rubbing at his face. “Ok,” he offered, the word drawn out as he tried to get all the information to stay in his head. “So what does that mean for the next few weeks?”

“Dr. Hendrix is restricting you to bed rest for the next week at minimum with as little physical activity as possible. After that, it depends on how well your soul and magic has recovered. It is possible that you could be walking out of here in just over two weeks, just as it is possible you could be here until after the souling is born. Both doctors are wanting to edge on the side of caution for both your and the souling’s sake.”

A breathy chuckle escaped him. “Hey, won’t see me complaining.” The smile that had accompanied the words fell away. “And you? How are you holding up?”

He caught a scattering of emotions chasing each other over Papyrus’s face but he left them undeciphered. “I will be fine. Grillby is working the schedule so that he can be more available to us over the next two weeks.”

“You don’t have to stay here, Pap.”

Papyrus shot him an affronted look. “I am very aware I do not have to stay. However, Grillby and I will be far more at ease with one of us here, even if only for the next two weeks.”

He smiled. “Hey, I’m all for the company. Just know that while I’m happy to have either of you around, I don’t need you here.”

“But do you want us here?”

He held his brother’s gaze with ease. “To whatever extent the two of you can? Absolutely.”
The lock gave a soft click before the front door opened into the dark space. Papyrus stepped through first, stopping only to pick off his shoes before crossing to the coffee table. Sans followed at a sedated pace, gaze roving over the dim living room, the stairs, the loft.

“Feels like it's been years since we've been home," he offered, stilling just inside.

Grillby pressed a hand to his back, asking gently, "Will you be ok?"

He smiled up at the elemental. "Yeah. It’s just been a crazy few months."

Papyrus gave a snort of a laugh at that, placing what he had brought in down on the coffee table. Grillby joined Papyrus, adding to the collection of bags.

“If you two ever need anything, my door is always open.”

“We know,” Papyrus assured him before the skeleton tugged Grillby into a tight hug. “Thank you. For everything.”

The faint echo of a conversation drifted through his head. It had knocked him to his knees four months ago but all it brought now was bittersweet nostalgia. He didn’t have an answer for Alex’s question and he was content with not finding out. If the two before him changed their relationship to be something more than what it appeared to be, that was their choice. He trusted Papyrus and he trusted Grillby. Between the two of them, at least one of them would be smart about the whole thing. But as far as he could tell, the pair of them were good friends - close friends - and that was what mattered.

Grillby stopped in front of him and he opened his arms with a grin. Grillby’s warmth sank into bones that hadn’t quite regained their resistance to feeling the cold and he relaxed into Grillby because of it.

“Take care of yourself, Sans.”

He pulled back, the grin now a content smile. “Definitely. See you next week for dinner?”

“Of course.”

Grillby locked the front door behind him, leaving him and his brother in silence. Papyrus shifted his weight, drawing Sans’s attention back around. “I’ll go see about the heating system and water. Unpacking will probably keep you warm until both systems are up and running.”

A soft, amused smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds good, Pap.”

Papyrus disappeared up the stairs leaving Sans alone still near the front entrance. His gaze rested on the loft for a long moment, waiting for the dread or panic to settle in; the weariness that had become his constant companion was the only thing he felt. Well, that and the relief of being home again. No matter how long they stayed with Grillby, it would never be home like the old house was.

The heating system kicked on drawing him out of his thoughts. He turned to the coffee table and started going through their belongings.

He and his brother settled back into the house with surprising ease. By the time a week had passed, it was like they had never left in the first place yet there was plenty to remind them both of what had transpired over the last year, let alone the last nearly nine months.

One of the largest reminders was his constant exhaustion that seemed to be growing worse. Not even Papyrus’s magic seemed to stave off the exhaustion for more than an hour now. He woke on the couch not sure why he was even awake. That very exhaustion weighed heavier than the numerous blankets he had been tucked under, heavier now even than before he had succumbed to it for a nap.

Soft sounds from the kitchen drifted around him, along with smells of whatever Papyrus was making. He wondered if he had slept the day away again. He hoped not; it would be nice for it to be lunchtime instead of dinner time. It would be the third time in just as many days that he had done nothing more than sleep.

The couch cushion gave slightly under his hand as he pushed himself upright, rubbing at his face with his other. Instantly his shirt and hoodie felt too restrictive, like they were tightly wrapped around his torso and would only get tighter if he didn’t correct the issue immediately. He grabbed at his shirt and hoodie, pulling at them to tug them off.

He froze when his hand collided with something solid under his clothing.

For a long moment he sat there in a shocked daze, the knuckles of his fingers still pressed against the solid mass under his shirt and hoodie. It took far too long for him to realize what it was and what it meant. A sob wrenched itself from him. His free hand pressed against his mouth, stifling any more sounds that came forth but the tears that pooled in his sockets went unhindered.

His hand shook as he finally pulled at the fabric he was clenching.

Slouched into the back of the couch curved his spine and gave him a clear view of the mass of magic nestled in the space between the bottom of his ribs and his pelvis. The blue magic had created an egg shaped mass that looked more like frosted glass than the magic it truly was. His spine and the inside of his pelvis were barely visible through the dense magic but where his own being was hard to see, the thing at the center of the construct was not.

The little soul that had nested against his own for the last nine months was now floating at the center of the roundest part, a brilliant point of white light that faintly pulsed like breath at rest.

Hands appeared in his line of sight hovering inches above the newest addition to his form. His gaze snapped up in surprise. Papyrus was wearing a tentative smile, unshed tears in his own sockets. “Well, this certainly explains your exhaustion the last few days,” Papyrus teased in a soft voice. “I am still calling Dr. Kole, though.”

The laugh came out sounding like a bark choked by tears and he finally managed to release his shirt and hoodie, quickly pressing his hand against the surface of the womb as if he could touch the soul it housed. Papyrus’s hands quickly joined his, shaking just as much as he was, and he laughed again.

The laughs drifted into sobs.

Papyrus’s hands left his magic to pull him into a hug, arms wrapped tight around him. Sans kept one hand pressed against the womb over the souling as he grabbed at the fabric resting against Papyrus’s back.

“The souling appears to have dropped without any complications,” Dr. Kole informed them both a few hours later. The doctor sat straighter on the dining room chair, tugging off his gloves. “The nice thing about skeleton monsters is that your kind know when something is wrong. You feel it more finitely than others of monster kind because you naturally feel far less than they do.” The doctor stilled. “Do you mind if I check your soul? I am not expecting to find anything we do not know already but I am marginally concerned that you have had prolonged exhaustion prior to the womb fully forming and the soul dropping. Oftentimes the carrier only experiences a day - two at most - of exhaustion before the drop.”

“Course, doc,” Sans readily agreed, not that he would have fought Dr. Kole about it in the first place. He was too tired for that.

“Should I call Dr. Hendrix?” Papyrus offered as Sans shivered from a combination of his soul being gently tugged into existence before his ribs and the cool air of the living room.

“No,” the doctor spoke, the word drawn out in the half attention Dr. Kole was giving Papyrus. Sans’s soul slowly rotated inside the doctor’s green magic hold. “I don’t see anything concerning. None of the healing cracks have been exacerbated and there are no new ones.” Sans let out a heavy sigh when his soul settled back in his chest. “His magic level is much lower than I care to see after a formation but it’s not life threatening.” The doctor met his weary gaze. “I will be surprised if your souling doesn’t grow into your power level. Very rarely is a monster born with a low level of potential magic after requiring so much to drop.”

He gave a breathy chuckle. “As long as the souling lives, I could care less about their potential magic. They could be the weakest monster around and I would still love them to pieces.”

Dr. Kole smiled at him, patting his knee. “Good to hear.” The doctor stood, shouldering his bag as he turned to Papyrus. “I will have my office call you by the end of the day. I want to see him in three weeks if it can be managed.”

There was a knock on the door before it opened, Grillby letting himself in. A storm must have settled over Snowdin. The fire elemental’s hat was crusted in snow, as was the shoulders and back of Grillby’s coat. Papyrus draped a warm blanket around Sans. He shivered again before grabbing at the warmth, tugging it more securely around himself.

“I hope I'm just being a worrywart,” the doctor continued, “but with how low your magic is after the soul dropping, I'm concerned about your construct being able to sustain the pregnancy.” Dr. Kole smiled at Sans, offering, “I'm not saying you won't be able to carry to term. Merely cautious after everything you've been through. Your life is just as important as the souling's after all.”

“Fair,” he agreed, grinning tiredly right back.

Grillby joined into the conversation, snow covered gear stowed by the door as the fire elemental approached. “What of the birth itself? Any concerns there?”

Dr. Kole hummed in thought. “For the birthing itself? No. The most Sans will notice is a slight popping and a sudden ease of magical weight if everything goes smoothly. There is still the risk of the pregnancy terminating - be it from an internal or external source - and that doesn’t go away until the souling is born, unfortunately. They can also cause any “birth” to be painful, sometimes even lethal. As long as Sans is able to maintain a healthy magic level overall, that risk should be minimal, though.” Grillby settled beside Sans on the couch. Papyrus was still standing, though Sans wasn’t sure why. The doctor shifted the bag higher up his shoulder. “There are always things that can cause a pregnancy to naturally terminate - injury, drastic influx of magic in either direction, death of the carrier - but I am not concerned about any of them at this time. Now, in three weeks I may be singing a different tune,” Dr. Kole joked, grinning, “but until then, there’s no reason to stress yourself out about it.”

Sans nodded. It was information he had expected. In science there was never a 100% guarantee of anything. It was nice to hear Dr. Kole was confident that there was nothing to worry about anyways. He hoped his souling would wait until the 18th week, though.

“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll be seeing at least one of you in three weeks,” Dr. Kole offered.

“Thank you for your assistance through this, Dr. Kole,” Papyrus spoke, walking the doctor to the door.

“It’s my pleasure. You all take care now.”

Grillby reached over and cupped the back of Sans’s neck as Papyrus closed and locked the door behind the doctor. His body gave a violent shudder as he pressed into the heat at the back of his neck. Grillby had been watching Papyrus but the fire elemental’s gaze snapped to him as soon as Sans pushed into his hand. “Stars, you’re freezing,” Grillby hissed. That hand moved, quickly replaced by Grillby’s arm as the elemental slipped his other arm under Sans’s knees and pulled the skeleton into a very warm lap.

Sans blatantly ignored the low moan that escaped him when Grillby removed most of the fabric trapped between them. He huddled against Grillby’s chest almost desperately doing what he could to absorb as much of the heat radiating from the other as he could.

Papyrus’s hand touched the top of his skull, rubbing soothing patterns into the bone as the lankier started giving him magic. Sans smiled at the touch as a shiver shot down his spine.

“Everything is progressing well, then?” Grillby asked softly over his head.

Papyrus spoke up. “As far as we can tell.”

“Good.” There was a brief pause before Grillby asked, “Did you still want me to make dinner?”

“Please,” Papyrus confirmed, sounding relieved. His hand stilled on the top of Sans’s head but the flow of magic didn’t waver. “Thank you for coming over, Grillby. I know we were planning on Friday night but-”

“I can still come over Friday night. This doesn't change that; tonight is about helping you and Sans.”

There was the sound of movement before silence settled over them. His brother rested his arm down Sans's shoulder, the flow of magic doing nothing for the exhaustion that was drawing sleep around him. As he slipped into its grasp once more, he caught Papyrus saying, “Thank you, Grillby. If you ever...”

When he woke, he was lying on the couch with his head on Grillby’s thigh. He was on his side with a clear view of the quiet tv playing a rerun. The constant stream of magic fizzled out from its source on his hip, drawing his attention to its loss and the pressure of the other’s hand resting on his hip. He raised his head, looking down the couch to see Papyrus asleep at his feet, head resting on the back cushion. Grillby’s arm appeared over his head and moved the massive blanket draped over Sans so that it covered Papyrus, too. The lanky skeleton shifted but only let out a low snore as he settled more into sleep.

“How are you feeling?” Grillby softly asked.

“Still tired.” He settled onto his back, looking up at the fire elemental with a concerned frown. “Like, worryingly so. My magic’s nearly back to level yet I feel like I could sleep for another week.”

Grillby offered a soft smile. “It will take time for your body to adapt to housing the souling differently.”

He found his hands on the warm magical womb, and while a part of him was startled to find his hands there, there was a strange sort of comfort knowing it was still there, still solid, and still protecting the souling it housed. Quickly shoving down the worries of the future, he grinned up at Grillby. “Do you want to see them?”

The house was quiet as he lounged on the couch, a hand idly running over the womb through his turtleneck. The zipper of his jacket was open but it wouldn’t be for much longer. He was constantly cold despite his soul being fine and he spent most of his days bundled up from head to toe borrowing heat from whatever he could get it from until he could stand the cold for a moment. Currently, he was still practically steaming after the hot bath he had taken and zipping up was a bit too warm.

Papyrus was finishing up the dishes from that day’s dinner. Grillby had been helping but the fire elemental had only an hour to eat before he had to return to the restaurant. He was short staffed again but for once it wasn’t a last minute situation; if he remembered correctly, Grillby had known for nearly a month. They had even offered to host their weekly dinner a different night or even at the other’s home so that Grillby could stay longer but the elemental had simply assured them he had been quite content with how things were and that had been the last of it. The afternoon had been as pleasant as the hot bath he had taken afterwards and he was looking forward to sleeping soon.

That was another thing that had never corrected itself over the last few weeks. Last week had been his three week visit with Dr. Kole and the doctor had agreed that the continued exhaustion was now a concern. His next appointment was tomorrow, a week and a half after the last and the start of seeing Dr. Kole at least once a week.

He sighed, sinking further into the couch. He still didn’t know if he was relieved or frustrated by that notion.

The couch cushions gave slightly under his hands as he pushed himself more upright, easing the strain on his spine. Papyrus had wanted to watch something but he couldn’t remember what it was. Maybe if he flipped channels-

Excruciating pain tore at him hot, hard, and fast. He keeled over as his body curled in on itself as if that could help. The inside of his ribs and pelvis felt like they were scrapped to hell while he was certain his spine had shattered into a million pieces. Curling had only amplified the pain but he couldn’t get his body to change position.

Something wet slowly seeped down his pelvis.

The fear that had barely taken root flared. He dropped his gaze to his arms tightly wrapped around his middle but it took far more effort than it should have for him to understand what he was looking at. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure he was looking at his arms until his vision suddenly snapped into clarity.

Another wave of pain, this one double the strength of the one before it, tore a cry from his throat. His body convulsing in on itself but it barely slowed his shaking hands as more of the viscous magic seeped out from under his turtleneck; the front was starting to grow damp with it. He pulled at the knit fabric desperate to get it off but another wave of pain halted his progress.

Sure hands shoved his out of the way and grabbed hold of the turtleneck in his stead, pulling it up and off with the jacket. The movement was jerky, rough, and it sent a different kind of pain through him. The hands didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate even as a pained cry slipped out from the jostling. He found himself bare from the waist up shivering from cold and pain alike with a very clear view of what was happening.

Massive cracks had streaked across the womb, all of them oozing the viscous magic like blood. A piece of the womb was coming up, a chunk that could fit in his palm peeling away with the viscous magic pushing at it. The piece looked extremely brittle, thinner than a piece of paper; it was a sharp contrast to the appointment the previous week where Dr. Kole had said the womb was strong and healthy. For half a second, they both saw it before the womb fell apart.

Sans fought to stay conscious as the pain nearly knocked him unconscious. His skull was ringing and what of his body he could feel was in excruciating pain. It took far too much to get an eye socket open.

Papyrus was kneeling before the couch illuminated green by hands bathed in green magic resting on Sans’s pelvis and ribs; Sans could barely make them out at the corner of his vision. The other’s intense gaze wasn’t on him, though, and he followed that gaze to the couch cushion between them.

The small soul hovered a few meager inches above the cushion, magic particles drifting around it slowly forming a vague shape. His soul clenched. A small body started to take form before their very eyes, barely any bigger than Papyrus’s hand. Slowly it solidified, taking on the distinct skeleton structure that they had been expecting.

For a brief moment, the form held. For a brief moment, joy and relief shot through him.

A crack cut across the souling’s ribs. It started over the soul and stretched out towards the right shoulder and left hip as quick as lightning. At almost the same time, another crack raced towards the top of the skull from the right socket, branching partway up; the second branch arched across the souling’s forehead as if to stretch out for the left socket. Edges of the freshly made construct started to turn to dust as the brilliant light of the soul rapidly faded. At the point where the first crack had originated a hole started to form, as if the sternum and ribs were being eaten away by some invisible force.

He snapped out of his horror and quickly covered the small form with his hand without touching. The movement brought pain that tried to draw him under again but he managed to stay conscious out of sheer determination and fear. Blue magic engulfed his hand like a liquid fire but he quickly throttled it. Transferring magic was Papyrus’s thing, not his. He had the magic to give but certainly just pouring magic into the little form would overwhelm it, destroying what he was so desperate to save.

Papyrus covered his hand with a hand soaked in orange magic. He felt his brother’s magic weave with his, guiding the magic through the small form with impeccable control. Papyrus controlled how much and how strongly their magic seeped into the small form. Papyrus’s magic coated each bone, wrapping around it to hold its shape in place of the souling’s magic. Sans could feel his brother’s magic turn green at the cracks and he gave what he could to aid in the healing. What he didn’t give for his brother’s use he gave to the soul.

The dim soul regained a mere fraction of its brightness but it didn’t go out.

He wasn’t sure how long they transferred magic into that small form - it was like a sponge; no matter how much magic they gave it, they never reached a cap - but it had to have been hours, hours of just him and Papyrus in absolute silence transferring as much magic into the small form as the soul could take. Or maybe the silence was broken by muttered encouragement, soft nonsense falling from both of them unconsciously or unintentionally as they prayed for the little soul to hang on, to make it, and he simply hadn’t heard any of it through the ringing in his skull. His soul certainly cried out for the souling to stay with him, to make it through this if only to see the world for a little longer. The brilliant light never returned but what light had returned never faded.

Abruptly he felt a snap somewhere deep in his being and his magic sputtered out. Papyrus’s magic gave out seconds later and the terror that had started to fill his soul seized it in a vice.

The small soul’s light remained low but strong and the newly created form held. A sob choked him causing him to cough as it agitated his damaged bones. He flinched from Papyrus’s hand suddenly touching his skull; despite the care and careful softness in the touch, it sent pain radiating through his skull and down his spine but it also drew confusion through his suddenly sluggish thoughts. He couldn’t remember closing his sockets. Had he tried passing out again?

“Stay awake for a little longer, Sans,” his brother urged, tremors skittering through the hand still resting on his skull. He caught the glint of light off a polished surface at the edge of his vision and distantly heard a dial tone. “Help should be here soon.”

He wanted to assure his brother he was going to do everything in his power to stay awake, if not for his own sake then for Papyrus’s, but the words never formed and it was all he could do to keep his sockets open.

Time slipped by around them yet it felt like seconds had become hours. Papyrus made three phone calls, the waver in his voice getting so bad by the third call, Sans wasn’t even sure whoever was on the other end had understood him. Something must have translated well enough through the call because the relief coming off of Papyrus was palpable. The lankier sagged against the front of the couch with exhaustion so thick in the motion, Sans feared his brother had passed out instead.

Papyrus shifted, moving the hand still resting on Sans’s skull to his shoulder and he caught the flickering of green magic around the other’s hand. Concern washed through him. He pushed through the pain to grab at his brother’s wrist, doing what he could to keep awake as he pulled at it trying to get Papyrus to stop.

Papyrus’s other hand closed around his wrist, stopping his tugging. “It’s alright, Sans,” Papyrus assured him. “I’ve got a little left.”

That didn’t make it any better. He wanted to yell at his brother, to tell him to stop before the idiot cracked his unblemished soul. At least Sans was used to it. At least Sans knew what to expect and could weather it all over again.

The front door opened before he could figure out how to say any of his thoughts. A gust of cold air full of blowing snow shoved its way around the figure that hurried in. The door was quickly shut and the figure tugged at clothing. It wasn’t until the figure was within his proper line of sight that he realized it was Grillby. The fire elemental tossed scarf and hat aside without a thought, coat slipping off and falling onto the coffee table. Grillby was still in his work attire. Papyrus remained on the floor against the couch but the relief had brought tears to the lankier’s sockets. A faint green tinged the edges of Grillby’s hands as they pressed against either side of Papyrus’s skull. Words were shared but whatever was said was lost to Sans. All he saw was the pair talking as the tears finally fell free of Papyrus’s sockets. Darkness swallowed them.

He twitched under foreign hands pressing against him, his awareness coming back as foreign magic seeped into him working to repair some of the damage he had sustained. It took far too long for his vision to clear enough for him to make out what was going on in the room.

Only, he wasn’t on his side anymore. In fact, he wasn’t even in the house. He was in a small room, certainly, but everything was moving and the bodies there were far too close for his liking. There was a lot of noise that wouldn’t straighten out in his skull leaving him blearily watching the strangers above him move and converse, a seriousness to the air around him that made his bones itch. Or maybe that was the foreign magic.

Tremors coursed through his body. What little magic he had left to hold his form together resisting the foreign magic so vehemently, Sans wondered if it would tear him apart with the effort. One of those above him looked at him. He was certain they were speaking to him but he didn’t hear a single word. More magic seeped into his form and the tremors worsened. He caught the glint of light off of liquid out of the corner of his gaze before darkness swallowed him again.

He knew he was somewhere different when he started to slowly wake up. For one, the bed he was laying on wasn’t moving. For another, there was silence in comparison to the noise that had to have been around him when he had first woken. There wasn’t even a ringing in his skull to drown out any potential noise. Awake as he was, though, opening his sockets was a much larger task than it should have been. Sounds drifted here and there - a door opening or closing, the ruffle of fabric, soft feet both inside and outside the room, rustling paper, soft chatter - but beyond vague ideas of what the sounds were and who they may or may not belong to, he didn’t know much else.

Finally after what felt like a very long hour of just lying there with his sockets closed, he managed to get one open. He was unsurprised to see the familiar ceiling of a hospital room above him. There was no telling which room he was in nor if it was one he had been in before. He doubted he had been in it before. For one, the door was to his right instead of his left.

There was a creak of flooring as movement drew his gaze. He lulled his head towards the left, watching as his brother approached looking as exhausted as he still felt. Papyrus’s hand was steady against his skull as his brother asked, “How do you feel, Sans?”

“Tired,” he offered with a weak smirk. His voice was hoarse in his throat. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired as well,” Papyrus confirmed. The lankier skeleton settled in the chair by the bed, hand remaining on Sans’s skull. “But I am in no pain and the exhaustion will pass in a few days.” The slight frown deepened. “Are you still in any pain?”

Sans went to shake his head and found it difficult to move. “No. Just tired.” Papyrus relaxed at that and Sans couldn’t help but ask, “How bad was the damage?”

Papyrus winced minutely. Sans was certain if he hadn’t been looking for some reaction, he would have missed it. “Severe. Worse than when your magic had turned on you back at Grillby’s.”

Worry churned in his chest. “How much worse?”

Papyrus’s calm, rather emotionless mask cracked in places. Without thinking he tried to reach for his brother’s face but his arm barely managed a few inches before a strange, hollow pain skittered down his spine. It drew a hiss despite it not actually hurting. Papyrus for his part seemed to understand what he had been trying to do and Papyrus’s hands wrapped around his, squeezing the appendage gently. That calm, rather emotionless mask was flawless again as Papyrus spoke clinically, “Your spine had sustained so much damage the doctors were surprised it wasn’t flaking dust, let alone falling apart. The inner ribs and pelvis were in a similar state but it was mostly superficial, not all the way through like the portions of your spine.” A shudder shot through his brother. “I still remember the glimpse of it I had gotten, of your spine.” Papyrus tore his gaze from somewhere near the door and looked at him. “It looked like it had shattered and had been crudely glued back together.”

He shuddered from the imagery himself; he hated that he could clearly see what his brother had. Unease settled in him and he had to ask, “Am I going to be able to walk?”

The frown on Papyrus’s face turned thoughtful. “The doctors are uncertain if there will be any lifelong repercussions from the magical backlash and overuse of magic. They seemed more concerned about you regaining consciousness before they were going to fret about that. Most Fall before succumbing to their injuries after what you went through but when your magic stabilized yesterday, I believe that particular concern went away.”

“How long was I out?”

He noticed the hesitation before Papyrus finally said, “Nine days; though, the first five had been medically induced for your comfort and safety.”

“And the souling?”

Please let them be alive. After everything, please let his souling be alive.

Papyrus’s entire demeanor eased and that pulled relief out of Sans before he even had an answer. “The souling is stable. They’re currently in the NICU so that they can keep a close eye on the souling’s levels but the souling was in a better state than you when everyone was brought to the hospital.” Papyrus’s expression fell before adding, “The souling will have to live with the cracks in their chest and skull, but neither appear to be causing the little soul any pain nor threatening the integrity of the construct. Once they are able to keep their soul from being present in their chest, it won’t pose a threat to their health, either.”

He nodded, though he was still left with far too many questions. What kind of crack would be a threat to the souling’s health if their construct was holding? “Do you think the doc’ll let me see them now that I’m awake?”

Papyrus started standing before he had even finished asking. Papyrus stepped towards the door. “Let me ask. Should only take a moment.”

Sans wondered if Papyrus was eager for him to see his souling or antsy from the conversation. Stars knew if he’d been in Papyrus’s shoes he would’ve been antsy being reminded his brother had nearly died again. Still, the click of the closing door filled the room for too short of a second before he was left alone in silence.

Well over a week. His souling had been alive for well over a week while he hovered on the edge of death. He tried to raise his hand again and again that strange hollow pain shot down his spine. His hand flopped back to the blanket. He leaned his skull back, closing his sockets against the agitation that was creeping into his soul. He was fine, his souling was fine.

Everything was fine.

It had to be.

The sound of the handle turning pulled him out of the anxious spiral that had ensnared him. Several voices preceded the door opening and it was the only warning he had before the room started to fill with people.

He recognized several faces immediately. Obviously his brother was among them but so was Dr. Hendrix and Dr. Kole; Grillby and Undyne were there, though the latter really shouldn’t have surprised him; he recognized one of the nurses from his previous stays but the other five people were complete strangers to him.

Grillby and Undyne followed Papyrus around the bed to Sans’s left side but he couldn’t give them any of his attention as it was drawn in by the bundle in Papyrus’s arms. His brother’s right hand was orange with magic resting on top of the bundle. He looked away only to meet his brother’s gaze. Papyrus smiled encouragingly at him stepping right up to the edge of the bed and Sans’s attention went right back to the bundle. Something was said. People moved but he didn’t register any of it. Hands he didn’t care to identify got him sitting up more proper. Not even the wince of pain could get his attention away from the bundle. With the utmost care, Papyrus pressed the bundle into his chest, someone manipulating his arms for him. Papyrus’s hands shifted to fully support the bundle giving Sans a clear view of what was contained within.

The souling was wiggling weakly in the blanket, a mildly distressed expression on the tiny face. Whoever had placed his left arm across the bundle was starsent and if he remembered after everything, he was going to kiss them. That hollow pain skittered through his bones as he traced the little face with his fingers as best he could without being able to move his arm. The little face wiggled some more before the tiny mouth opened in a wide yawn. He felt the soft shift of the blanket as the little souling’s ribs expanded somewhere in the depths. A hand that seemed impossibly small came free of the blanket and pressed into the face as if to rub at it. He touched the point of his index finger to the hand with as much care as he could muster. The tiny bones looked so fragile. He was worried he would unintentionally break one of them if he wasn’t extremely careful.

That tiny hand wrapped around the bone of his finger clinging to the bone with a strength that surprised him.

He didn’t realize a laugh had escaped him until he was sucking air back into his ribs on a sob. Papyrus’s hand cupped the back of Sans’s skull as the other kept the souling secure against his chest. His brother brought their skulls together and he pressed into the contact, crying freely now as they cradled his souling together. Faintly he was aware of the audience they had but none moved to interrupt the moment.

They had done it.

He managed to calm himself after a while. The souling was wholly undisturbed and seemed to be sleeping. He rubbed his thumb over the tiny hand still holding his finger.

“Your souling is doing well,” Dr. Kole spoke up, drawing his awareness back to the room. “Exceptionally well.” He wasn’t sure why he looked away from the souling but he did in time to catch the glint in the doctor’s eyes. “I would say that little souling is the luckiest souling alive to have a parent as powerful as you. Had you not done what you had as carefully for as long as you had after the premature birth, the souling would have succumbed to the natural process of things.” His question must have crossed his face because Dr. Kole shifted his weight, expression almost thoughtful. “A souling who is in the process of Dusting is extremely difficult to save because it takes a significant amount of specific magic over a long enough time to stabilize the soul and form, most especially those of skeletal descent. Your souling would have required double the amount of the carrier’s capacity in order to simply stabilize the soul. The form alone would have required half as much more. Even then there is no guarantee that stabilization will take with that amount alone, sometimes requiring far more if the magic being given isn’t from a parent or magic giver. Not to mention the rate of magic being transferred would affect the outcome just as easily: too quickly and you overwhelm the souling; too slow and you starve the poor thing.” That glint returned. “The fact that the two of you - together - were able to find that slim safe zone in and of itself is miraculous;” the doctor’s gaze turned to Papyrus, “healing some of the damage while transferring magic at the same time untrained in that kind of situation, unheard of.”

“They’re ok, then?” Sans asked, his voice cracking. “The souling. They’re going to be ok?”

Dr. Kole nodded. “We want to keep them here for a few more weeks at least just to make sure, especially with the damage the form had sustained, but yes, they’re as healthy as if it were a normal birth.”

“You will be staying just as long,” Dr. Hendrix added, finally joining the conversation. There was disapproval in their tight expression. “The amount of damage you sustained is still life threatening and we will be keeping a close eye on your progress. You will have to go through physical therapy to regain any strength you lost, as well as any flexibility you may have lost.” Their tight expression flattened. “There is a new crack in your soul,” that tight expression loosened, “but since you are awake and your magic has stabilized, your stay may not be quite as arduous as it could have been.”

There was a bit more chatter among the health professionals and him. He was surprised when some of that talk was directed at Papyrus but he was glad when it was just about the magical exhaustion and not about a cracked soul. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to handle that. The majority of the crowd left leaving behind the one nurse he had recognized and his family and friends.

Undyne came around to the other side, looking skeptically down at the bundle still resting against Sans’s chest at Papyrus’s will. Sans certainly couldn’t hold the souling there on his own. “So. You were pregnant,” she started, the words accusing. He met her sharp look steadily and it quickly turned thoughtful. “Guess that makes everything make sense, doesn’t it? The collapsing and all.” She nodded towards Papyrus and Grillby. “This shit certainly explains why those two had called for my help. By the time I made it to your house, you were already being loaded into the back of the transport, your little soul nowhere to be seen. Pap was in no condition to be moving on his own and Grillby certainly wasn’t going to be of any use.” She sent Grillby a toothy grin. Grillby just returned it with calm amusement. “Took a lot of my magic to get Pap back on his feet, too, and neither of them would tell me how he’d manage to get his magic so low.”

“Wasn’t our place,” Grillby stated simply.

Undyne gave a bark of a laugh, grin splitting her face. “Damn straight it ain’t!”

Sans chuckled. Papyrus adjusted above him and he turned his attention back to his brother. Papyrus met his gaze after a moment. “Do you have a name for them?” his brother inquired quietly.

He rested his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, closing his sockets for a moment; he was slowly noticing more and more of the pain as time went on and the exhaustion had never left. “Yeah.” He turned his head enough to look down at the sleeping souling. Absently he traced the scar from the top of the right socket to the point where it branched in two directions. He silently wished Alex was there, if for nothing more than to approve of the name he was choosing in the man’s stead.

“Kepler.”
Pain skittered through his body as he woke slowly. A weariness clung to every bone under the pain and it was all he could do to just open a socket.

The overhead lights were off but the ambient light from the windows was a good substitute. He wanted to raise his head and look around but there was no strength in his bones for him to even contemplate following through with that desire.

Shifting fabric to his right filled the silence as something moved at the side of his bed. After a moment, Grillby leaned into his line of sight. The fire at the top of the elemental’s head was subdued. “How are you feeling?”

“‘orrible,” he croaked. Pinpricks of pain shot along his jaw and down his spine. “What ‘appened?” There was a heavy pause, one that made his soul sink. “Grillby.”

The fire elemental ran a hand over his skull, the other pressing into the blankets over Sans’s arm. Pain flared at both points of contact but he ignored it. “I know." The pause was much shorter. "What do you remember?”

He frowned, apprehension settling in his chest. That kind of question was never any good and if Grillby was asking...

Oh.

The memories flowed in, foggy and half realized but the information was clear. An onslaught of emotions had awoken him, a suffocating wave of despair, terror, and grief that didn’t have a cause. His magic reacted to that despair but his soul wasn’t healed enough to support the pull towards elsewhere. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around him, pulling him against a chest that thrummed with equally familiar magic. Vaguely he was aware of the world changing around them, the drag of moving from one point to another by magic alone, as he fought to stay conscious. Noise bombarded him from all sides as the pain finally started to register. It made his entire body tremble, sucking away the miniscule amount of strength he had woken with. The part of him that was coherent enough to understand some of what was going on was grateful for those familiar arms.

Something was pressed into his chest. Whatever it was made his soul sing and ache painfully in equal parts. He tried to cover it with his hands wanting to shield it from the rest of the world. His hands didn’t move from where they had fallen when he had been gathered up in those familiar arms.

Someone grabbed his left hand and brought it up over the thing pressed against his chest. Two different magics rushed into his hand and for one startling moment, the world and everything happening was crisp and coherent around him. Everything, that is, except for the noise.

Kepler was swaddled and pressed against his chest, pinned there by his hand that was sandwiched under Papyrus’s. The souling looked to be asleep despite the torrent of magic rushing from the tiny form. Papyrus’s magic was pouring into his body alongside Kepler's creating a thin barrier around the infant's magic. He felt the swell of it, could gauge how much the tiny body was expelling in earnest, and his fingers flexed under Papyrus’s hand.

They both felt the moment the magic snapped to a stop.

For the half second it took for all the inertia to stop, Sans feared the worst, but then Papyrus’s magic drew taut around Kepler’s and pulled it from Sans as quickly as it had filled him. Magic filled the tiny form cradled between them guided by Papyrus’s extraordinary control. When the last of Kepler’s magic left him, his magic followed after determined to replace what the infant had expelled before they had gotten there. Papyrus’s magic weaved with his before it even left his hand and drew Sans’s magic up short before he could give Kepler anything. Instead, Papyrus poured magic into the tiny form, replacing what had been lost in Sans’s stead. He could feel the well of magic Papyrus had, knew that the other had fathoms more to give than him, and yet it did nothing to ease the worry in his chest.

It took far too long for them both to feel the tiny form’s magic capacity get reached.

He felt drained without having used magic. His magic was untouched, his soul left unharmed, and yet his body trembled as if he had given everything he had left. There was the impression of someone removing Kepler from their hold but he couldn’t actually remember it. Even the realization that Papyrus had been trembling just as hard as he had was something he simply knew without being able to remember it.

“Kepler,” he breathed, bringing himself back to the present. “Kepler expelled magic.”

It wasn’t quite enough to explain what he remembered but his mouth didn’t want to work with him and the pain was growing worse.

Grillby nodded. “They believe the souling’s form had given out causing the intentionless magic release. The doctors say that the only reason it was not an early neonatal death was because of you and your brother’s intervention.”

“It worked then?” he asked. Had he the energy he was sure it would have come out desperate but all he could manage was a breathy question.

Grillby put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Yes. The doctors believe that Kepler will live but they are not willing to guarantee the longevity of the souling beyond the first decade. Kepler’s form is very fragile, moreso than yours, and they are concerned that the amount of magic required to keep the soul alive is too much for the fragile form to bear. They are also wary of any repercussions from what you and Papyrus did to save Kepler’s life; they fear that the act of returning the magic after such an expulsion may have unknown consequences.”

“But that’s only a concern - a potential not an absolute, right? It’s possible this was the only time and that Kepler could live a long life, right?”

Grillby gave his arm a squeeze. The skittering of pain nearly broke past his control. “They are hopeful but want to impose how uncertain the future is. Very little is known about neonatal deaths and their causes and even less about skeleton infants and how familial magic affects the souling.”

His control suddenly snapped. The pain he had been trying desperately to ignore slammed into him, stealing his breath and erasing the world for a moment.

That moment had to have been longer than the second he could have sworn it had been; there were far too many people in his room for such a short amount of time.

Foreign hands were on him, each touch a pinprick of increased pain that filled his mind. Noise filled his skull as foreign magic seeped into his form and encompassed far too many bones. Distantly his awareness assured him that the hands were helping, that the touch was ok, but as a touch settled on the inside of his spine all he could remember was Gaster’s touch with the intent to break more bones.

When he woke, it was to the soft sounds of fans running - small ones, the ones he would expect in a computer or the like. The room was darker when he managed to get a socket open and no one moved at his stirring. Moving was sluggish and he seemed to be disconnected from the pain it brought. A blessing, probably, and he appreciated it.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a good while. There wasn’t a clock in his line of sight but as light filled the room from the window, he was fairly certain it had been for a couple of hours.

The door clicked open and shut, the footfall soft - muffled, even - as his visitor entered the room. The magic was gentle and oddly foreign despite being immediately recognizable. He still didn’t have the strength to look but he waited patiently as Papyrus walked around to the far side of his bed and came into view.

“What was with the magic?” he asked, the words coming out as an amused croak.

A gentle smile pulled at Papyrus’s face as he sat down in the chair beside the bed. A small bundle was tucked into his brother’s elbow; it was probably Kepler. “A ‘check’, though I think the word is lacking.”

The word seemed to nag at him in a way that left him uneasy. Still, he brushed the unease off, asking, “New trick?”

His brother shrugged. “In a sense.”

There was a weightlessness to those words that didn’t match the heavy press of detachment that filled the room. Sans frowned. “Gonna just leave me in the dark on that one, bro?”

Silence met his inquiry and the longer it stretched, the more he wasn’t sure he was getting an answer.

“I didn’t figure it out on my own.” The words were quiet, tempered in a way he hadn’t heard from Papyrus in a very long time. It felt almost subdued and his soul ached at the thought. “I was released a few days after Kepler’s magic expulsion and was sent home but I couldn’t return to work yet. It left me restless, eager to do anything productive, so I started cleaning the house.” A wry smile heavy with weariness was sent his way. “You’ll have to relearn where everything is in your room but it is finally clean. Replaced the carpet, even.”

“Seriously?” came out on a laugh. A dull ache filled his ribs, quelling the laughter immediately.

His brother nodded. “The entire house will have been touched by the end of the week. Just waiting on the flooring for the kitchen.”

That sounded... “Pap, I think I lost some time in there. When did you get released?”

Papyrus finally met his gaze and Sans’s soul sank. “Around two weeks ago.”

“Two...” Sans tried to repeat but the words died. When he managed to get words to come out again, they were the questions that had filled his mind in turn. “How? How long was I out? When was Kepler born or any of this happen?”

His brother’s hand was cool on his head. It was soothing and he took a shaky breath to try and stave off the panic that was clawing at his chest. Kepler’s little bundle settled against his side where his brother carefully moved one of Sans’s hands to rest over it. The strong, slow thrumming of Kepler’s magic was the balm that his brother couldn’t manage.

“The magic expulsion was the day after Kepler was born. We were both unconscious for a good two days afterwards but you woke before I did so what I know of the events are second hand.” Papyrus’s hand didn’t even twitch yet Sans could feel the flex in his brother’s magic at the suppressed anger around the comment. “When you woke up, you had a conversation with Grillby. He said you had been very coherent and receptive as he filled you in on what the doctors had said before something went wrong. The doctors aren’t even sure what had happened to you but you were suddenly in a lot of pain. Grillby believes the painkillers they had been giving you were not strong enough; one of the doctors and a few nurses thought the same thing. The challenge came when the medical staff tried to help you. They had been getting a handle on the situation up until the point where you were unable to handle the situation anymore. No one knows what had set you off; all they knew was that you were in pain but handling the care well enough one moment and the next you were doing everything in your power to get away.”

An echo of terror skittered at the edge of his thoughts, fleeting and gone by the time he tried to focus on it. He could remember the conversation with Grillby and where it cut off from the pain but anything after that was a haphazard guess at best.

“If it was like the other times previously...” His soul pounded in his chest. When all he did was stare, his brother went on. “Bash has helped us both but I know you’ve been avoiding talking about Gaster just as much as I have avoided talking about those weeks. I’ve done little to actually face what he had done to us and I’ve noticed how it affected my reaction to some of the doctors and nurses.” Papyrus met his gaze again. “Your spine is their main concern. It would not surprise me if someone had touched it to either heal or secure it and you suddenly believed he had you again.”

A smile pulled at Sans’s face as he teased, “Sounds like working with Bash has rubbed off on you.”

His brother snorted. “More like I experience it myself.” The humor between them shattered. There was a heavy beat before Papyrus went on. “I used to be extremely reactive to any touch until Bash worked with me on it. After a while it was only ever when my thoughts spiralled or when there were too many things going on. Then only during very specific situations,” Papyrus nodded at him, “medical situations unfortunately being one of them.” His brother’s gaze drifted as Papyrus drew in a slow breath. “I can’t spar like I used to. Strength training, endurance, that’s all fine but the minute we shift into anything requiring magic, something changes and I-” The snap of Papyrus’s teeth was loud enough for Sans to hear but his brother didn’t leave him enough space to speak. “Undyne has been incredibly patient with me and is the only one I can spar with for now. As long as we avoid magic, we can manage a thirty minute session of drills or bursts of mock fighting.”

“Aw, Pap. I’m so sorry.”

His brother waved him off. “There is plenty of progress so there is nothing to feel sorry for. I will forever be grateful that she has continued to be patient with me. These last few weeks certainly have done nothing for my progress.” Papyrus focused on him. “But that is beside the point. Immediately after the complications you suffered in the middle of your conversation with Grillby, they put you into a medically induced coma in hopes of allowing your form time to heal and save your mind from the pain that was bound to accompany it. They sent me home three days later as they kept Kepler here and I have been wreaking havoc on the house ever since.”

“So the new trick?”

A solemn expression crossed his brother’s neutral mask. “My tidying included your lab, Sans.”

Confusion drifted through him when the sentence didn’t make sense at first. It slowly dawned on him what his brother was implying and his confusion quickly shifted into concern. “You went through his notes?”

Papyrus shook his head. “Not exactly. One of the stacks on the table fell over and it was while I was setting about returning it to the table that a line of text caught my attention.” He frowned. “I was not aware we innately knew that font.”

Sans blinked. “We don’t. Or, at least, I don’t think we should. I learned it with the amount of hours I spent working with the translations and a cipher.” At least, as far as he knew.

His brother’s frown didn’t lessen. “Something for another time, then. The page that caught my attention had a line talking about a ‘check’. The use of the word in context with the line was unusual so I read around it. It seemed he was able to use his magic to ‘check’ humans and monsters alike, able to pick up on the soul, any traits, magic level and strength, and a number of other things. It sounded more effective and more versatile than what we have done in the past.”

Sans had forgotten about checking his brother’s magic after Papyrus had teleported them out of Gaster’s attack for the first time and wondered if that was what his brother was referring to. “It doesn’t require touch,” he realized.

His brother nodded. “He had a theory that any being with magic could ‘check’ another with a simple pulse of magic as long as they knew how to listen to it correctly. The whole thing was a scribbled note in the corner of a sheet of equations and terminology I did not understand.”

“So, in theory, I should be able to ‘check’ others as well.”

“In theory, but it is a theory that will wait until you are healed.”

The scientist in him was too intrigued to leave it at that; he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, though. “What did the ‘check’ tell you?”

Papyrus’s expression closed off even as it pulled into a thoughtful frown. “I know your magic level and what it is supposed to be at, how much damage you have sustained, the trait of your soul, and your present strength.” His brother shrugged. “Compared to what we did to check each other, it only allows for a few additional points of information.”

“Still kind of cool.”

His brother smiled softly at that. “Yes. Still kind of cool.”

“What of the rest of it?” At his brother’s questioning hum, he clarified, “I’m assuming there’s more to my stay than just some shattered bones. Do they know if it will cause permanent damage or if it’s affecting my ability to walk?”

“Ah.” Papyrus reached over and ran a finger across Kepler’s forehead. The infant wiggled in the swaddle but didn’t wake. “The doctors say you have paraplegia - paralysis from the ribs down - or at least an equivalent to, seeing as we don’t actually have muscles. They did not share if they knew how long you would be afflicted by it.”

He closed his sockets against the sudden wave of grief. He was alive and so was Kepler and Papyrus. That was all that mattered; he would learn to live with his limitations. Alex certainly had. When he opened his sockets, he asked, “Do they have any idea what my recovery looks like?”

“No. They are waiting to state that until after you woke up. There is a range of possibilities and until you are able to vocalize your experience, they won’t have a definitive timeframe.” His brother’s expression fell. “I feel a part of your paraplegia is my fault from my rough handling when Kepler was dying. I had not been as careful as I should have been and most likely agitated your injured spine.”

“Hey, don’t ever apologize for that,” he quickly countered. “Because of you we were able to save Kepler.” His frown deepened. “Speaking of: why didn’t you take Kepler’s magic? Why have me take it instead without letting me actually take it?”

“I had already recovered the spent magic from the birth and could not intake any more magic. And I fully expected the souling’s magic to do more harm than good if you had absorbed it. You were already in an awful state and there was no need to make it worse.”

“Your control and workings with magic is incredible, Pap. You are amazing.”

A smile tugged at Papyrus’s expression but it was fleeting. “Not amazing enough to make much of a difference in what you are having to go through.” He tried to cut in but his brother kept talking, gaze focused on Kepler. “Kepler expelled magic again yesterday while in my arms. It was just as potent as the one previously but I discovered I could siphon off the magic faster than Kepler could expel it. It was...a strange experience. Once all the excess magic was withdrawn from the tiny form, I returned all the magic at a calmer rate until the souling was full of magic again. There has yet to be any signs of adverse results from my actions.”

“Did you talk to Dr. Kole about it?”

“He walked in shortly after it had happened; he is apparently very in tune to magic fluctuations in soulings and claims it was part of the reason why he entered medicine in the first place. Kepler was checked over and given the all clear.” Papyrus stilled before looking up at Sans. “He’s concerned about these episodes but does not believe there is anything more we can do until the souling starts showing negative signs. He said to not fret about it until Kepler starts behaving differently or appears to be in pain.”

“Which leaves all the fretting for me,” Sans half joked.

Papyrus snorted and the conversation drifted from there.

Kepler went home with Papyrus a week later when it became clear Sans wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. The paraplegia started just below the shoulder blades and made his lower half absolutely useless. He couldn’t feel anything beneath that one point, yet in the beginning that one point felt like fire whenever he moved or the pain blockers started to wear off. They had them on the highest dose they dared to give him and he still felt far too much for his and the medical staff’s liking. Even the healing was a slow process made difficult by Sans’s form. It seemingly refused any outside assistance if it wasn’t his brother’s magic leaving a whole month before he was able to push himself up under his own power and not be debilitated by the pain.

The doctors were optimistic about his ability to walk again, though. Physical therapy started as soon as he was showing even the slightest sign of movement above the paralysis line. Some days were easier than others; there were far too many days where he could barely manage to roll over in bed.

Papyrus visited daily with Kepler in tow and when his brother was unable to, Grillby would come in his stead. No matter what state Sans was in, Kepler seemed quite content to just be with him. The infant would hold onto one of his fingers and not let go until he or another carefully unwrapped those tiny fingers.

Sans didn’t have any other visitors until Kepler was two months old. Papyrus and Kepler were watching him from a nearby chair as he braced himself upright between the parallel bars when the door to the room opened. The room wasn’t a private one so he hadn’t thought much of it, too focused on staying upright to glance up. The physical therapist was before him and an assisting nurse was behind him, both supporting a good amount of his weight as the physical therapist talked him through the exercise. His arms shook with the effort.

“Good morning, Papyrus. Who do you have there?”

Sans’s head snapped up at the very familiar voice. The motion threw his sense of balance off and the two medical personnel grabbed him, pinning him between them with as much care as they could afford. He hissed in pain, the hand still on the bar clamping down in a vice grip as the other found the shoulder of the physical therapist’s shirt. The voices of the two medical personnel drowned out the rest of the room as they talked between each other and occasionally him until they had him back in the wheelchair. Papyrus was there when the therapist moved aside and he offered his brother a soft, “I’m ok,” when their gazes met.

“Are you alright, Sans?” came from behind Papyrus. The lankier skeleton stepped aside to not only reveal Toriel but Asgore, Undyne, and Alphys as well. Toriel - having been the one speaking - was the closest and had a hand pressed to her chest.

He offered them all a grin. “I’m ok,” he repeated loud enough for them to hear. “Just lost my balance. Would have been worse had I not been in such good hands.”

The physical therapist patted his shoulder as they turned to the guests. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“We have come to check on Sans,” Asgore spoke, stepping up to Toriel’s left shoulder. “It was not our intention to disrupt his session, though. We had been told he would be done shortly and had intended to simply wait.”

The physical therapist looked to Sans. “I don’t want to push after a slip like that so early so we’ll call it for today and check in on you tomorrow to see where you’re at.”

He sagged into the wheelchair, flinching slightly from the skittering of pain that followed. “Thank you.”

The therapist nodded. “We’ll walk you back.”

The trip to his room was surprisingly quiet. Undyne and Papyrus were chatting softly somewhere behind him but that was it. The day nurse took over for the physical therapist and between the two nurses, Sans was tucked back under the covers of his bed. The company that had followed settled around the room. Papyrus took the chair closest to his bed like usual but not before settling Kepler against Sans’s chest. He happily wrapped his arms around his swaddled souling, grateful for the umpteenth time that he could now do so without assistance.

“So,” Sans spoke up as the movement in the room stilled. “Is this a personal visit or a professional one?”

Toriel and Asgore shared a glance even as she said, “Both, unfortunately.”

“While I am here in the interest of your wellbeing, I am also here on behalf of your employment,” Asgore explained. “It is nothing serious; your job is still secure as are everything that your employment entails. Simply put, I am here to gather the needed information to help you transition back into work once you are able to, as well as making sure that doing so does not impede your healing.”

“Rest of us are here to see you,” Undyne spoke up, stretched out in the window seat. Alphys was sitting next to her awkwardly curled into herself. Undyne lowered her chin as her one eye settled a serious look on his face. “And the souling.”

A quick glance at the three others informed him that they had not been previously informed about Kepler’s existence. He looked to Papyrus who shrugged, making an off gesture as if to silently say his brother was leaving it to him to tell people.

“So the child is yours, Sans?” Toriel asked.

Sans expected her expression to tell him something about her stance on the whole matter but all he saw was neutral curiosity. He nodded. “Yes. Mine and Alex’s.” It slipped off his tongue with ease and lacked the pain he would have felt- had felt months ago at just the thought. It didn’t make it any less foreign but he was glad it didn’t pull at him like the others seemed to think it should if the looks of masked pity were anything to go by. And since he was already talking... “I was pregnant since about Alex’s death up until two months ago. The souling dropped with no complications but a month after dropping something went wrong. I suffered spinal damage and damage to the ribs and pelvis from the backlash. We - Pap and I - managed to stabilize the newly created souling form before it could give out completely and aside from a few hiccups along the way, I’ve been recovering from that for the last two months.”

There was certainly sympathy in their expressions but beyond that, the largest reaction was Alphys covering her mouth and looking like she might start crying.

“May I see the souling?” Toriel asked.

Sans shifted Kepler in his arms, looking to Papyrus even as Toriel stood. Papyrus took Kepler from him and placed the small bundle into Toriel’s arms for Sans. Toriel dwarfed the tiny bundle and Kepler looked even smaller than ever cradled in her arms. She was quick to spot the crack on Kepler’s face and looked at him with concern. “The form has suffered a crack?”

Sans nodded. “Two, actually; they’re scars from the form failing at birth. The one on the skull is mostly superficial, though the souling will be blind in the right socket. There’s nothing that can be done about that. The second one is on the rib cage. The sternum is partially missing while a crack cuts across the ribs from shoulder to opposite lowest rib cutting right through the gaping hole in the sternum. It’s not life threatening as long as the souling’s soul isn’t corporeal.”

“A-and there’s nothing that can be d-done ab-about the two cracks?” Alphys piped up.

“No. But the souling isn’t in pain nor is their life in danger so there hasn’t been any real consideration for even seeing if anything could be done that the doctors haven’t already suggested.”

Toriel asked, “Does the little one have a name?”

Sans smiled gently. “Kepler.”

“Hello Kepler,” Toriel cooed to the infant. If Kepler responded, Sans couldn’t see it. “Welcome to the world.”

“Do you have an idea how long your recovery will be?” Asgore asked.

“A few months, at least. It depends on how well my form heals and how well I can get back on my own two feet.”

“Well,” Toriel said, returning Kepler to his arms, “may it be a speedy recovery. You have a child to care for and work to get back to, after all.”

He chuckled. The latter was meant as teasing; she had the same mischievous glint in her eyes she got when she had a really good pun set up. “Here’s to hoping,” he agreed.

“I’m honestly surprised you never got mad at me for hiding Kepler’s existence from you,” he told Toriel months later. They were sitting on a bench outside with him bundled in what felt like an entire linen closet. It was certainly keeping him warm against the cold Snowdin air but it was cumbersome. Twice he had to rely on Toriel to pick up his crutches after he had slipped and she had caught him.

A serene smile spread across her face though her eyes seemed sad. “I have known a number of skeletons in my many years. I know just how unpredictable a pregnancy for your kind is,” she assured him. “Very few ever got to hold their souling and even fewer saw that souling grow into adulthood. I am not surprised nor offended you kept it to yourself until Kepler was born and because the circumstances of the little one’s birth being what they were, a few months hurt no one.”

“You’ll remind me of that when I apologize again?”

She laughed. “Of course. Now, if you have rested enough, let us continue our trek back. Your outfit will not keep you warm for long if this wind keeps blowing.”

He walked out of the hospital without any assistance shortly after Kepler was seven months old.
The creek made its way through the trees around snow covered rocks and occasional pebble filled banks. The stream of water barely reached a depth of a few inches and would widen into shallow pools barely a foot across from time to time. There was no life in the creek and hardly any life around it. The only living thing close by was a little form bundled from head to toe preoccupied with following a pine needle drifting downstream.

A sound drifted through the trees. The little form’s attention moved away from the pine needle as tiny boots came to a stop in the snow. Without hesitation, the little form started back the way it had walked, this time with sure, quick feet kicking up puffs of snow in the haste.

The sound drifted through the trees again. It had grown clearer, turning from just noise into a single word, and the tiny form picked up the pace. The toe of the right boot caught on something and the little form pitched forward sharply, landing on hands and knees in the snow. Getting back up was awkward with the restrictive clothing and a ground that wasn’t level but the little form managed it and took off at the same brisk pace it had started with.

“Kepler,” echoed through the trees as solid and clear as if the little form was standing next to the speaker. The sound of another walking through the snow curled in from the little form’s right. The little form didn’t stop but it’s attention did turn, catching sight of the much larger form cutting through the trees. The little form changed direction immediately, heading towards the other.

“Uncle Pap,” the little form greeted, reaching up towards the taller.

Papyrus smiled, easily scooping the little form up into coat-covered arms. “Best be off. It is time to say goodbye to Chara.”

Papyrus cut through the trees at a pace the little form would have never been able to and before the little form knew it, they were approaching a very familiar figure. This one was shorter than Papyrus but eyelights were on them before they had even caught sight of the shorter.

“I’ve got him, Sans,” Papyrus spoke, closing the distance with a few unhurried, long strides.

“Thanks, Pap,” the shorter spoke, a lazy smile pulling at a weary face. “Find some cool things, Kepler?” The little form nodded as Sans accepted Kepler from Papyrus. Kepler wrapped his arms around Sans’s neck and nestled close, content to accept the affection and not have to walk. “Good. Hang on tight, ok?”

Kepler opened his left socket to catch sight of the glitter of very familiar orange magic kicking up with a whirl of powder. From one instance to the next, the trio had gone from the snow filled forest to a rather deserted hallway. The magic had dissipated long before the new area had come into focus.

The room was quiet with its single occupant when they entered. Kepler was unfazed when he was helped out of several layers. There was only so much range the form of a child could manage, after all. The single occupant’s gaze followed Kepler’s journey across the room and up the side of the bed with the assistance of a nearby chair.

The person in the bed chuckled, weak hands doing little to help as they wrapped around Kepler’s upper arm. “Always such a ball of energy, aren’t we?” The words were sure but the breath was weak and short lived forcing the sentence into pieces. Kepler settled cross legged at the person’s hip as the person looked to Sans and Papyrus. “Can we be alone for a few minutes?”

Sans offered a soft smile. “Course. Holler if you two need anything. We’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thanks.”

Sans gave a small wave as he stepped out, Papyrus offering from the door, “Of course, Chara.”

The door clicked shut behind the two older skeletons. For a moment, silence hung between them.

Chara’s hand was still on Kepler’s arm.

“You don’t seem very sad that I’m dying,” Chara pointed out, the comment wry despite holding a touch of confusion.

Kepler blinked at Chara, a small frown pulling at his expression. “I am sad that we don’t have more time but I’m more happy that you won’t be suffering anymore, you being a short living notwithstanding. Even if we died of old age, we would have still had to have said goodbye when I was still in my first century. Just because it’s sooner than either of us would have wanted doesn’t mean it’s all bad. At least we’re getting to say goodbye this time.”

Chara’s expression closed off at the reminder, gaze drifting to somewhere over Kepler’s left shoulder. “Yeah, at least there’s that.”

For a stretch, silence hung between them before Chara chuckled. It drew a raspy cough out of the human’s chest. The words that came next were a struggle, sentences broken up by long pauses for air. “I forget you’re 23 looking like that. Been around you my whole life and I still slip and think you’re no more than 3. Certainly the size of one.”

“As a skeleton, that only makes me 2.”

Chara snorted. “2. You’re definitely at least 13 mentally, if not a few years older than that.” Chara grinned. The left side barely came up half as high as the right. “No way you’d catch me hanging out with a baby.”

A soft laugh drifted from Kepler. “Not according to my dad. He could go on and on how you were more attentive to me than you had been of Frisk and Flowey.”

“Of course he could.” There was an eye roll from Chara but it was in good humor. They had both sat through stories of Kepler’s first five years by choice and a number of times those tales had been started by their own questions. “Well, now you’re the only one for me to fret about so I guess there’s no choice in the matter.”

The good humor between them dampened around the edges. Kepler covered Chara’s hand with his, rubbing the back of it. “They’re not hurting anymore.”

“I know.” Silence stretched between them briefly. “I just...I’m not sure these past ten years without Frisk have been worth it. I barely remember Flowey as it is and he was barely eight years dead when Frisk passed away.”

Kepler rocked forward onto his knees. Chara’s hold was weak on his arm but the movement didn’t break it. Kepler crawled forward, settling himself over Chara’s chest with his head tucked under Chara’s chin. “I’m glad you lived long enough to at least see the beginnings of the Overworld Restoration Project. You’ll get to tell Frisk and Flowey all about it.”

Chara’s hand left his arm to settle against his skull. “If they don’t already know, I’ll be surprised.”

Kepler almost felt the exhaustion that was weighing on Chara in that one sentence and closed his sockets. “Tell them about us anyway?” he asked, soul aching in his ribs as he turned most of his attention to Chara’s unsteady heartbeat.

“Sure.”

Beuva was a hive of activity. Near its center the memorial grounds created a pocket of calm, a low garden wall the only barrier against the boisterous, almost overwhelming and chaotic excitement from overtaking those remembering loved ones or seeking solace in the engraved names. Each carving was still as stark as the day it had first been chiseled, edges worn down by fingers too slowly for anyone to notice. Chara’s name was tucked in near Flowey’s and Frisk’s and he ran his fingers over each name. He did it every time he visited the most heavily populated region of the Underground.

The excitement wasn’t kept completely out. As he made his way back to his family, he caught snippets of the excited mutterings surrounding the day’s planned event and it was reassuring that he only heard one person speaking their concern about leaving the only home any of them knew.

His dad was where he had left him, though it seemed his uncle had wandered off. Sans wasn’t staring at the name buried in a list part of a very specific dedication but Kepler knew it still had Sans’s full attention.

Well, most of it, at least. Kepler sat flush against his dad’s left side and gained an arm around his shoulders for his efforts. Briefly the arm squeezed him tight before relaxing, settling into place as they waited. Kepler didn’t say anything and neither did Sans, their shared silence a small pocket in the noise filled world around them.

Kepler wasn’t sure how long they had sat there waiting. It had certainly been some time because when Papyrus approached, Kepler had to blink a few times to get his magic to gather into proper eyelights. Or, at least enough of an eyelight in his left socket to actually make out his uncle’s expression. It was still fuzzy around the edges but that would clear quickly.

Papyrus seemed off despite being responsive to Sans’s inquiries and there wasn’t any lack of energy in the way Papyrus moved. Still, Kepler reached out as he got to his feet and carefully wrapped his hand around Papyrus’s. “You ok, Uncle Pap?”

A small smile pulled at Papyrus’s face as he gave Kepler’s hand a squeeze. “I’m fine; the day has simply been a long one.”

Sans rubbed Kepler’s back, suggesting, “Shall we head to the stage, then? Make this long day a bit shorter? Should be about time for us to head that way anyways.”

“You get to say hi to everyone?” Kepler asked Papyrus as they started towards one of the exits.

Papyrus’s thumb rubbed the back of Kepler’s hand. “If I didn’t, we’ll be walking right past on our way out.”

Stepping outside the low garden wall was jarring. The crowd filled the streets from edge to edge streaming through the temporary transport barricades one block over. Despite the eager excitement, very few people were pushing their way through. Sans cut through the crowd as if there wasn’t one there, a hand sneaking back to capture Kepler’s free hand before Sans could get swallowed by the crowd.

This way and that they weaved their way through the ever thickening crowd and Kepler stayed between the older skeletons. Twice Papyrus let go of his hand to hold onto his arm or shoulder instead but it always returned to holding Kepler’s hand rubbing small circles into the back of it when it returned.

The crowd came to a standstill. Screens showed a live feed of the current music entertainment and the accompanying speakers carried the sound. No matter where one stood in the crowd for the main event, everyone would have a clear view and hear well. Sans kept moving through the sea of people until they paused briefly at a barrier and popped out onto the other side where there was a smattering of people up and down the makeshift walkway. Sans turned left and continued on towards the stage.

The makeshift walkway steadily gained more people until Sans came to a stop in a long line of people. After a quarter of a minute, the line moved a few steps before stilling again.

“Oh good,” Sans commented. “The line’s moving faster than I thought it would.”

“And you are certain they had not expected us sooner?” Papyrus asked, eyes on the stage half hidden behind a building.

Sans pulled out a folded piece of paper and opened it, glancing it over. “Yep. They said to be here at two at the latest. And seeing as it’s only noon, I think we’re fine.”

The stage changed over three times before Kepler followed his dad and uncle up onto the stage under the direction of the stage crew. Kepler’s gaze drifted over the sea of people. “Think the whole of the Underground is here?”

“As close to it as possible,” Sans said. “This is a big deal, after all. No one would want to miss this.”

Kepler didn’t recognize most of those who joined them on stage. The scattering he had met and knew more than a simple face and name waved as they passed but only Grillby stopped before them, sharing soft words with Sans that were swallowed by the din of the surrounding crowds.

Grillby reached out and rubbed the top of Kepler’s skull. Kepler grinned at the fire elemental. “Ready for this?”

Kepler nodded under Grillby’s hand. “I’m glad I get to help.”

The fire at the top of Grillby’s head danced and Kepler knew the other was smiling. “I think we all are.”

The last few to be on stage hurried into position as the noise from the audience calmed down. A hush washed over all present as King Asgore and Alba Torlan - the current lead of the Council - stepped up to the front of the stage flanked by Queen Toriel and three other members of the Council.

Alba started them off. “Hello and welcome, everyone, to this celebration. As the clock strikes two, it is time for us to proceed onto the main reason why we are all gathered here. I ask that you all turn your attention to those standing behind us on stage, for they are why we are all here.”

King Asgore took over. “For longer than even the longest living can remember clearly, we have called this Underground our home. For over six centuries and countless generations, the main purpose of the Underground has been to find a solution to the Overworld poisoning while allowing its people to not just survive, but to live life.

“Sixty years ago, after the tragic event that had occurred at the Snowdin Labs, our efforts had finally paid off. We discovered the needed solution, a mark not of the end of our efforts but merely the beginning.”

Alba spoke up. “With a solution found, efforts quickly turned to creating a way for us to restore the Overworld to something that we could return to. It took two years of planning before the Overworld Restoration Project could begin and once it did, countless residents of the Underground contributed hours of work to make the plans come to fruition.

“19 years the Underground toiled to create the Distributors and 39 years ago, we sent them topside to begin neutralizing the atmosphere of the Overworld. We have closely monitored the progress waiting for the day we could make our return to the Overworld.

“Today marks that day.” A cheer went up so loud, Alba’s words were nearly lost to the swell of noise. “Behind me stand 150 brave souls who will be the first to venture out into the Overworld beyond what insignificant area we have already touched. A portion will stay close to our Underground to help begin the process of rebuilding. The larger portion will be verifying that, globally, we have succeeded before they begin informing the other Undergrounds that it is now safe to return to the Overworld.”

King Asgore raised a hand as the crowd cheered again. “Once we have been given the all clear to start returning to the Overworld, we will begin rebuilding. Understand that rebuilding will take time. The landscape aboveground is far different and far more vast than anything we are used to and it will take time to adjust to it as much as it will take time to make sure there is a home for every person within our Underground.”

Alba gave a small nod, adding, “The hope is that as we re-establish communication with the other Undergrounds, we will find others who are willing and able to help the collective populations resettled into life in the Overworld. So let us celebrate the beginnings of our return and those willing to take the first steps that will help us move upwards.”

The cheer that went up was deafening.

Being 60 meant that, to the short living, he was already old, yet to any long living, he was barely more than a toddler. Not everyone assumed his mental capacities based on his age. Most went with what he presented outright and went from there but those that thought he was nothing more than a child were equal parts infuriating and ridiculous. He didn’t care to take advantage of people but sometimes it was to his benefit to do so.

Like now. He was standing with his dad and uncle bundled in the gear the First 150 were wearing topside and while people paid his dad a lot of attention given Sans’s contributions to the Overworld Restoration Project - it was like Sans was some sort of scientist celebrity; yeah his dad was friendly with people but the adoration and ingenuine flattery was jarring - they ignored Kepler; especially if they were long living, which was most of them.

There was more to the gathered group than just most of them being long living, though. It hadn’t gotten past him that the majority going topside were those who did not need to breathe to live. Kepler had stopped feigning breathing after Chara had died because there had been no reason to keep it up. No one got close like Chara and Frisk had to care if he was breathing or not and his family certainly didn’t care. His magic was fathomless even if he couldn’t use it right. There was no point in supplementing it through breathing. But the fact that he had noticed didn’t mean that others had. He was certain a large part of the general population was ignorant to that fact but for the First 150? It was assumed those present had been specifically asked because of it and were informed as such but that assumption was challenged when he noticed a good number were still breathing. His dad and uncle had stopped when the Project had moved to transferring the Distributors to topside. They had been part of the team that had taken them topside and set up the equipment that tracked the atmosphere quality. Now he got to join them for this expedition and it wasn’t simply because he was Sans’s kid. He had taken to science like both his parents and was fully capable of contributing.

He supposed that was what people had forgotten when they outright ignored him as they were. He was just as much a scientist on this expedition as anyone else.

Sans touched his shoulder when the latest suck up stepped away and winked at Kepler when their gazes met. Kepler smiled gently, content with knowing his dad trusted his knowledge regardless of what anyone else had to say about it.

Kepler watched Sickle and Vortex work the door to the last Underground from the tunnel entrance. He could hear the rest of the team behind him milling about waiting. The four armed personnel between him and the two at the door was a precaution; while he had never personally encountered an Underground where the occupants were volatile, he had heard the stories and read the reports. It was fascinating how six and a half centuries was enough to completely change the psychology of a population. One of the most violent Undergrounds had gone from a population in the several tens of thousands to barely one thousand in that six hundred year timespan. Last he had heard, that particular population was still under isolated quarantine but there were several souls that were showing signs of adapting, which bode well for the remaining.

The crunch of breaking stone was joined by the horrendous screech of grinding metal as the door finally came free. The chattering behind him fell silent as there was a roll of voices from the tunnel. For a moment he thought those inside had turned on his teammates but the armed personnel were stowing their weapons and dissipating magic. He relaxed, becoming aware that he had shifted his stance as if he was about to fight. As the people started up the tunnel, he took a step back and away to reset his posture. The rest of the team behind him surged forward to do their jobs.

It would be another 18 years before the final Underground was labeled empty. He had expected it to take far longer, seeing as communities were still being constructed and material was still moving from the Undergrounds themselves, but the populous had proven resilient and eager to be topside. Empty was a formality, a label meaning that no one was residing in the Undergrounds, and he hoped that bode well for the world’s future.

Time passed quickly after that point. Kepler found himself staying in the sciences with his dad, both of them settling into anything that was space related. Papyrus, on the other hand, settled into the medical sciences and was content helping people. It didn’t stop Papyrus from tinkering, though, and so he would join Kepler and Sans from time to time to help build things.

When the world had gotten the first object into orbit, Kepler turned 196 the same year. He watched the launch from the ground with Papyrus at his side. Sans - being part of the team for that particular launch - had been in the Command Center for it. Later he said it hadn’t been as cool as seeing it launch in person but the results and subsequent work had been completely worth it. The next launch six months later had Kepler and Sans’s positions swapped. Kepler found he liked being in the Command Center during launch. Even if he missed watching the trail from the rocket, being able to be part of the team monitoring the progress was more satisfying. For Sans, Kepler was certain it had something to do with having lived in the Underground for so long. Being able to see something disappear out of sight into the sky above was probably reassuring on a level Kepler would never be able to understand fully.

25 years later the world saw its first manned space flight, and its first people in space. The team of three included Kepler and they not only successfully made it into orbit, they also completed three full orbits around the planet before landing, equating to 378 minutes (6.8 hours) from launch to touchdown. The landing was rough but the spacecraft didn’t blow up and the astronauts inside were unharmed. The entire world celebrated their success.

A good number of people - Kepler, his family, and those they worked with included - also acknowledged those who had lost their lives in the pursuit of space travel. Two manned rockets, three unmanned, and seventeen onsite or related accidents had taken 34 lives over the 25 year span and despite everyone’s best efforts, those that worked in the field knew that those deaths would not be the last ones.

And they weren’t. Over the following 48 years only 21 more lives were lost. It wasn’t a great number to have when everyone was doing everything they could to mitigate the loss of life but it was far better than the nearly several thousand lives it could have been. Something had gone wrong on one of the re-entries and the astronauts inside managed to get the spacecraft to crash into the harbor instead of the city it had been aimed for at the cost of their own lives.

And when that 48th year rolled around, the first long term space exploration mission began. Kepler was one of the lead scientists for the 10 year mission and while Sans and Papyrus had not originally been slated to be a part of the mission, they were quickly included after a request from Sans and Kepler to the right people. For Sans, it would be the first time he would be seeing the stars from space rather than from the planet’s surface and Sans fell in love with space travel.

Those ten years were not easy, though, and certainly far from kind. By the time they return from the mission, it is very obvious that Sans’s frail form would not be able to handle another trip into space. Permanently grounded, there was some grief but Sans assures his family that being planetside wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to still work in the space sciences.

When they got back, preparation for a 50 year mission began. It would take 42 years before the flagship was ready - a massive craft that was capable of carrying a crew of nearly a thousand and the families that would go with. Kepler joins the mission not as a lead but definitely as part of the crew. But those 42 years wore on Kepler’s dad and uncle to the point that by the time the launch date arrived, it was clear Sans was nearing the end of his long life, Papyrus not much farther behind. Kepler suspected that was a large factor in why they joined him.

Three months into the mission, Sans collapsed. When Kepler and Papyrus arrived, it was to the words of the medical lead informing them that Sans would be lucky to make it through the night. Kepler and Papyrus settled at Sans’s side to be with him through the end. It gave the family time to talk and Sans was quick to thank his son for getting him among the stars and other worlds one last time before he had kicked the bucket.

Sans Dusted in his sleep that night. The short living on the ship had a hard time with how nonchalant Kepler seemed to be with Sans’s death, returning to work a week later with barely a change to his step. Kepler, for his part, missed his dad but had also gotten far longer with him than anyone else on the ship could say about their loved ones and he cherished every moment just as much as he hoped Sans was at peace and with Kepler’s papa, Alex, in turn.

Papyrus’s passing wasn’t as peaceful. Papyrus’s work in the medical field was a valuable asset to the ship despite not being part of the “official crew”. He volunteered to help when the medical bay got overrun from illness or injury patients. But just as the medical bay would call on him when needed, so would the defense squad. Passing his 400th birthday 14 years before the mission had begun hadn’t done anything to his form. Papyrus was still as physically able as ever but he grew tired more easily and spent magic took longer to regenerate. It left him able to do what was needed but the recoil of his actions were heavy.

Kepler would never find out what actually happened to Papyrus, though that was no fault on anyone’s part. Space exploration meant they had opened themselves up to encountering other space faring life and find it they did. Explosively. During the six months leading up to Papyrus’s Dusting, the flagship and its crew crossed paths with a space faring people whose first thoughts were to conquer and pillage. The first five months were rough, the flagship all on its own doing its best to evade the danger as best it could, but the sixth month came with aid. A ship from a much more peaceful people came to the rescue and offered the flagship much needed support but it didn’t stop the attacks from coming.

During one encounter with the violent space faring people, Papyrus was planetside with a number of others from both the flagship and the peaceful people’s ship. Kepler had remained on board the flagship due to work and only found out about the attack when the alarms went off. A group of the violent people had attacked the away parties as their ships assaulted the flagship and the peaceful people’s ship. Two smaller peaceful people’s ships were what kept the flagship from being destroyed but help for those planetside never came. The teams on the ground had to handle the planetside confrontation themselves and get back to their respective ships. It was during the brawl that Papyrus had passed but no one had seen what had happened. One moment, Papyrus was holding strong against the assailants, his shield and bone constructs never wavering under the assault. The next, the shield and constructs simply vanished and Papyrus was nowhere to be seen. The assault had surged forward before the crew could get to where Papyrus had been and anything that had been on the skeleton was lost.

Because the excursion was on a planet with no hostile life and because they hadn’t been expecting the sudden attack, civilians had gone down planetside, including a few kids. One of the kids would later recall seeing Papyrus take a hit from the assailants’ weapons and it was quickly speculated that Papyrus had fallen due to injury. The specific kid in question would confess to Kepler years later that they had become a field medic because of Papyrus. The event for the now young adult was still riddled with holes from a head injury sustained during the escape but they swore that Papyrus had protected them, had given his life so that the young adult could make it to safety. They thought the best way to thank Papyrus for his sacrifice was to make sure no one else had to do the same thing. The young adult would later become a very talented doctor and a lifelong friend of Kepler’s.

Space exploration would become Kepler’s life after that and he would spend the remainder of his years among the stars. He kept to the science end of things but during peaceful years, he mostly traveled space as a civilian. Life seemed rather adamant about him having friends to the point that he always had at least five after his uncle passed.

He had three partners over his remaining lifetime. The first one, male, lasted a few weeks and had been nothing more than a fling during a mission with another world’s crew. The second one, a female, actually lasted a few months and probably would have turned into something serious. Only, when she said she had wanted kids and they had gone to see if it was even possible, they found out he was infertile and she promptly left him. It hadn’t been on bad terms but it also wasn’t a pretty breakup either. The last one was non-gendered and lasted for a good number of years. They never married because they had agreed that wasn’t best for them, especially with Kepler being a long living. But the two of them wanted to spend a portion of their lives together so it lasted far longer than either of them expected until it simply ended and they parted ways.

In the end, he died surrounded by his chosen family at 729 years old. For a skeleton monster, that was considered young if death was of old age, as Kepler’s was. For Kepler, though, reaching 729 years old was incredible. He had barely survived his own birth and living in a frail, imperfect form with too much magic. For any others, Kepler’s long life was a miracle.

[ArtisticVicu]

Gaster's Involvement
They named it the UNDERGROUND Initiative; not the most creative name but it got the point across. In the end, it was the only option to give humans and monsters enough time to find a solution, if there was one. The growing toxicity of the atmosphere was forcing the world to change and as long as the UNDERGROUNDs held as they were supposed to, then the theory was centuries if not millennia could be spend on the problem without dying from simply breathing.

At least, that was the initial propaganda shown to get people to help out. Once trapped in a massive cavernous tunnel, priorities shift. Oh, there was always work to do - the Overworld Project never stopped and there are still teams of scientists trying to find solutions - but the world population has been divided haphazardly into numerous UNDERGROUNDs and communication between them was shoddy at best. If one did find the solution for the toxic atmosphere above, there was no telling how well they were going to be able to let other UNDERGROUNDs know.

The problem with time is that it blurs the line between good and bad, obscuring the truth with history and blending those that should never have been blended - the shared initialed name W.D. Gaster being one.

Notes:
Though this is considered the prequel and can be read first, it is designed to be read after Othertale (https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=95786&p=3073096&viewfull=1#post3073096).

Corsiva watched the souling sitting just to the right of the bottom front step, content with digging in the dirt.

At least, one of the souling’s forms seemed content digging in the dirt. The other was staring off, hands draped between their legs but not actually resting against anything. Not for the first time, the elder wondered at what was going through the souling’s mind. They were still too young to articulate anything, let alone understand the concepts being asked of them. Answers would have to wait until the souling was speaking of their own volition before any sort of questions could be asked.

“Una.”

The title of sorts drew the elder’s attention from the souling to the souling’s sire, a young, worn skeleton Corsiva knew would not get to see the souling grow into adulthood. The elder knew it wouldn't be by choice but it didn't make the fact any less sad. “I see you still parrot my souling’s name for me.” The other skeleton flinched, sorrow draping over that worn soul far heavier than the impending war. Corsiva was quick to rectify that. “I am not reprimanding you, Garamond, and you know as well as I do that Montserrat would have been very happy and relieved to hear you have remained family even after her Dusting.”

The sorrow the elder had seen did not ease but the other did smile weakly in return. “I know. I just..." The skeleton’s gaze drifted to the souling in the dirt. “After everything we’ve been through, I never thought...it all just..."

Corsiva patted Garamond’s arm. “You don’t have to explain. Calibri would be in a tizzy if I let you kill yourself over our daughter’s choice.” The elder sent Garamond a shrewd look. “We all know the risk of carrying. Even when it is more likely for the new soul to fade than the carrier, it is still very possible. Do not diminish her choice with sorrow and regret.” Corsiva gestured to the souling in the dirt. “Cherish what remains of her instead.”

Silence settled over them. Corsiva studied Garamond’s face as the other watched the souling. The sorrow faded from view but that did not mean it had left. Corsiva was about to have at him over it when that expression turned to something the elder did not care for. Words stalled out in a nonexistent throat.

Garamond’s voice was harder, emotionless even, when it cut through the silence that had thickened between them. “They’re getting serious about this whole war nonsense. I’ve received orders to head East for training before hopping the ocean.”

Dread filled Corsiva’s soul. “What of the souling?”

“Can they stay with you?” Garamond met the elder’s gaze. “With your family? I’ll make sure they’re not a burden on you but it would be best if they didn’t come with me.”

Corsiva knew that but the others probably didn't. “Don’t you worry too much about that. Just come home alive and in one piece for them and we’ll call it good.”

Garamond chuckled, gaze drifting back to the souling. “I’ll try.” The smile that had been there fell. “Things are getting really bad, Corsiva. Do what you can to keep them out of it for me, will you?”

“I’ll try, but if they gained anything from Montserrat like I’m sure they have, they’ll find a way to make their own trouble.”

To the elder’s relief, that pulled a fond smile to the other’s face. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Garamond placed a heavy hand on Corsiva’s shoulder. “Thank you, Una.”

Garamond trotted down the steps at a quick pace, hands quickly finding the top of both heads. He knelt in the dirt beside them and Corsiva caught a muttered “Dings” to the one playing in the dirt and a muttered “Decos” to the one staring off in among the words he shared with the pair. If they understood his words, they showed no sign of it though little hands did hold onto his arms as he spoke.

It was when he started back into the house Corsiva inquired, “Will you be telling the others?”

He paused in the doorway, hands on the doorframe and handle. He looked back, brow furrowed slightly in thought. “I’ll try but orders are to ship out as soon as I’m packed.”

Corsiva gave him a very flat look. “Waiting till the last minute, were we?”

Garamond shrugged. “I only got the notice ten minutes ago.”

The screen door snapped shut behind him.

Corsiva looked back at the souling, finding the one not digging in the dirt staring at the elder. Barely half a year existing, a souling for another nine years still, the one not digging was watching the elder as if they understood what had gone on, what had just transpired despite the lack of reaction before. Deep in the elder’s soul, Corsiva hoped not. The blessing of the skeleton race was longevity and that meant that the souling had time. There was no rush to understand, to age, and as of yet, the souling had made no show of exceptional mental growth outside the norm for their kind.

Still, the pinpricks of eyelights stared at the elder, watching even when Corsiva looked back.

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, the elder wondered at what was going through the souling’s mind.

Gravel shifted under his feet as he ran, an urgency shoving him forward that he only recognized but didn’t feel. He was going to be late, later than he should be and far later than he had planned to be. Already he could feel his brother’s awareness shifting away from the other’s surroundings and that would do no good.

The brick wall that ran the length of the trail he was pounding down was easily three times his height. It was a calculated risk, one where the consequences nearly outweighed the benefit.

Nearly.

With a well placed construct against the ground, he vaulted over the brick wall into the air over the rushing traffic on the other side. He crafted two constructs barely big enough for him to hold onto and yanked himself through the air, trusting his dark clothing to keep the drivers below unaware long enough for him to get back out of sight.

A bone construct protruded from the building wall as the ones in his hands disintegrated. He grabbed onto the horizontal bone and redirected his downward momentum horizontally. The bone disintegrated leaving no trace of its existence behind as he tucked and rolled on the pavement back up into a run.

Something they had both decided was curiosity flittered through their soul and he sent back what they had decided was patience.

His brother only reminded him of the encroaching deadline in turn.

The streets he dashed through were strikingly quiet compared to the traffic he had vaulted over until he came out onto another major thoroughfare. This one was mostly foot traffic and many of the bodies in the crowd were a good sign he had not gone horribly awry. Again, his brother’s awareness was on him but he ignored it for the sake of following the tether of their soul.

The pull on their soul eased abruptly. He reached out and grabbed at his brother’s hand without having to look, said brother already falling into step just behind his right shoulder. Their soul was humming now that its two forms were close together again, making it nigh impossible for him to not know where his brother was, how he was standing, and where his attention was.

“I made it on time,” he spoke, though there wasn’t much inflection to his voice. There never was. Neither of them really understood how to change that quite yet.

“Verdana is looking for us,” his brother informed him, just as inflectionless as he was.

“And Arial?”

“We will have his attention if we do not find Verdana soon.”

His brother’s hand slipped from his as the other moved away, disappearing into the crowd off to his right. United, they sent a pulse of magic through the crowd too faint for most to notice. The pulse pinged every soul within a diameter the width of the street itself giving them a good magical view of who was where and which had magic at what levels. He noted the three adults that perked up at their Check. The younger children in the area - those younger than them - giggled at the sensation. Very few of the guardians noticed the odd giggling and even then only one seemed concerned.

His brother tugged at his awareness. He cut through the crowd following the tether of their soul. He found his brother just as they came to a small collection of familiar souls.

“Wing Dings, Wing Decos,” one of the older spoke, sounding happy. “There you two are. Getting into much trouble?”

“No Corsiva,” they answered together.

The elder laughed. “Oh, come now, you two. You are children. Children are meant to be getting into trouble.”

“Do not encourage them, Una,” their uncle spoke. The tone affirmed their uncle’s cross look. “They are already enough to deal with without them behaving like other spawn.”

“Come now, Arial,” Corsiva countered, expression still happy. “They are only children.”

“They are more mouths to feed,” Arial spat back. “Montserrat and Garamond should have never-”

A hand latched onto their uncle’s shoulder, yanking him off balance to force him to take a step back and turn. “Arial,” the assailant warned, “enough. Montserrat would have-”

“Would have what, huh!?” Arial grabbed at the front of the assailant’s jacket, yanking at them as if he could draw them closer. The assailant simply bent closer. “Montserrat is Dust. She can’t do shit to me now, and neither can that deadbeat partner of hers.” Arial shoved at the assailant but the force didn’t seem enough to get the assailant to move. Instead, the other simply took a large step back as if to humor the gesture. “If Garamond ever shows his fucking face, I’ll make sure he’s Dust just like she is. Dumping his fucking brats onto us like we’re some charity.”

“They are our family, Arial,” the elder spoke out, voice steady. They watched the signs of recognition flicker across Arial’s face; there was a threat in the elder’s words, one that even they knew better than to cross. “Unlike you, they cannot support themselves.”

Arial scoffed but said nothing more. The assailant crossed to them and he felt his brother shift a foot closer to him. They knew they were not wanted - Arial was not the only one to make that clear - but the only one they knew that actually cherished their existence was Corsiva. The one now before them seemed to care about all little things but that did not mean they were anything significant in the other’s gaze. “We are moving to the main event. Do either of you need food?”

Dutifully, they shook their heads no. Asking for food outside of meals was not allowed even if his use of magic earlier had brought a mild hunger to their awareness. They could ignore it. It wasn’t like it was a gnawing hunger, anyways.

The one before them didn’t stand immediately. This close he was able to pick up on the minute tightening of the other’s brow that was their only hint they had not been believed. “If you are sure.” The other stood. “Let us get moving before the crowd gets too thick.”

“Verdana,” Corsiva spoke out and the one before them paused. “A moment.” The elder smiled down at them. “Run along with the others.”

His brother’s hand was already in his as he turned away from the adults. His brother had no trouble keeping pace with him, staying close to his right shoulder as they followed the small group through the crowd. None of the group reached out to them or kept an eye on them. He would not be surprised if Arial was actively trying to lose them in the mass of people. Unfortunately for Arial, that was impossible.

“Come here, souling.”

Verdana’s voice was the only warning they had before the other was hefting them up onto either shoulder. They held onto each other’s forearm behind Verdana’s head for stability as they settled. Verdana kept a hand on their outside hip and leg while moving through the encroaching crowd towards the small group not far off. They were now a good head taller than the majority present which caused eyes to turn to them in surprise and amusement. Verdana was the tallest of the group but, then, compared to most, the only small ones of their group were them and Corsiva. Even Arial who was shorter than Verdana was still among the tallest of the crowd.

His brother squeezed his forearm, bringing both of their attentions to the stage. A hush settled over the crowd as three monsters stepped out onto the stage. The smallest of the trio - though it was only relative; all three were larger than all but a select few in the crowd - stayed back a few paces as the largest stepped up to the edge. The monster was adorned in regal attire, a crown nestled between curled horns marking this monster King Eragore.

“My people,” King Eragore spoke, the deep words carrying through the crowd with ease. “Thank you for celebrating with us on this most wondrous day.”

The crowd cheered. His gaze left the stage, taking in the audience now enraptured by the monsters on stage. ‘My people’. Those two words held nothing to the scattering of humans in the crowd and yet they cheered all the same. Monster ranking had never included humans and not for the first time he wanted to know why.

“It is with great joy and pride in my soul that I am able to present to you now the Crowned Prince, Asg-”

Sound shot through the silence left behind by the crowd. It tore screams from unsuspecting bystanders. Verdana turned, giving them a clear view of the end of the street to their left. It wasn’t till he saw the smoke billowing from a vehicle several blocks from the edge of the crowd that he realized it had been an explosion. There was an uneven line of humans approaching. He could make out objects held by the approaching group, watching as a few dashed forward.

“Guards!” King Eragore barked. “To the defense! Form a line! Do not let anyone pass!”

The Crowned Prince was at the front of the stage, yelling at the same time, “Civilians, start moving west, towards your right! We’ll lead you to safety!” Already the Queen was on the ground, pulling one of the flags free of the stage. The pole wasn’t much taller than she was but the flag on it snapped this way and that, making a very clear marker for the crowd to follow. “Do not shove! Aid those around you!”

The crowd around them surged towards the top of the street after the Queen’s guiding flag. He wondered if it was only due to the Crowned Prince’s words that prevented the crowd’s fear from overruling their common sense.

“Verdana, put the souling down and go help.”

Verdana looked down at Corsiva as Arial walked up, smashing his fist into his palm. “About time there was some action,” Arial stated, looking eager. “Been itching for a fight.”

“You are to follow the King’s orders, Arial,” Corsiva reminded him as they were placed on their feet. “Do not engage unless allowed to.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arial drawled, rolling his eyelights. “Come on, Verdana.”

He and Verdana were quickly swallowed by the crowd, the others of the small group already out of sight. Only Corsiva, his brother, and him were left behind. Corsiva placed a hand on their shoulder, pulling them with the flow of the anxious crowd. “This way, you two. Best we vacate the area with everyone else.”

His brother’s hand was in his without him knowing if he had reached out or if his brother had. They dutifully went where Corsiva directed even as a second explosion went off behind them. More screams echoed around them but they felt none of the panic the crowd did.

For a second time, the crowd surged around them. What hand Corsiva had on them was shoved away as a stumbling body cut between them. His brother lost his balance, crashing to the ground. He held tight to his brother’s hand even as pain filled his palm where his brother had scrapped his own right hand against the rough pavement. A raw aching started in his right ankle. He tugged his brother up and quickly changed sides. There wasn’t much he could do against the pain - his or his brother’s - but at least he could help his brother walk should the pain get too much.

A glance back revealed they had been swallowed by the crowd. He shot off a check, keeping the range close, and found Corsiva had drifted to their right, towards the edge of the street and the crowd, aiding someone there. The elder’s magic was stronger meaning that Corsiva was healing someone. He turned to follow to get his brother the same healing.

Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He shifted his weight back, bringing his brother ahead of him. His brother looked up, looking towards what had caught his attention, and as one, they reacted without much thought.

Magic surged forward, slamming into the alleyway with enough substance that all three humans noticed it immediately. None of them bore magic which made the next part far easier. Bone constructs shot out of the ground and walls, fencing the three humans in. The most solid part of the makeshift hold was the wall separating the humans from the defensive line the forward most human had pointed a gun at.

“The line.” He followed the gesture that accompanied his brother’s words and took in what his brother was seeing. They were too far to see details but they could make out the defensive line buckling under the pressure from the antagonizers. Another good shove and they would breach the line.

He adjusted his hold on his brother’s ribs as the other wrapped the injured leg around his left. With three solid feet on the ground, they launched themselves into the air, the massive bone construct disintegrating as soon as they were clear. He took control of their descent as his brother sent their magic down ahead of them. A fence of bones shoved its way out of the ground forcing the group of antagonizers back. It didn’t stop the assault - weapons were still firing and magic was still being thrown around - but it gave the defensive line a chance to regain their footing. Two different lines of bones formed on the antagonizers side, wave shaped but well constructed, both gaining the defensive line a bit more space. A third was formed behind theirs, curving back to create a makeshift cover several were ushered under.

Several short bones appeared in mid air between them and the curved wall of bones like rungs of a floating ladder. He easily descended down them, slowing their movement enough that when they touched the top of the curved wall, they had come to a stop.

Something was shouted. He didn’t understand what it had been but it was easy enough to guess when the majority of the weapons were turned on them.

They didn’t care.

With a shift of weight from both of them, magic surged forward and skyward. Four massive skull constructs formed over the line of bone. The crowd before them shrank back but didn’t retreat. The lower jaws split as they opened wide. An orb of brilliant magic formed at the back of each maw. It started small but grew rather rapidly in size giving off a noise between a hum and a whine that increased in pitch the larger the orbs got. That noise alone held a very real threat that they could not back.

The weapons pointed at them fired.

An array of bones solidified before them, their magic taking the barrage without shattering.

Beams of pure magic fired from the floating skulls into the crowd.

Odd how the screams from the antagonizers were nearly identical to what they had heard earlier from the crowd behind them.

The beams sputtered out. The skulls remained open wide as magic started to slowly gather again.

The crowd before them scattered.

Massive hands closed around the back of their necks and yanked them off the curved wall. All of their constructs shattered. The ground was unforgiving when they were thrown to it ripping a shared cry of pain from them.

“Ignorant soulings!” King Eragore barked, a hulking shadow over them. He met the King’s gaze first, aware of the buzzing, shifting crowd around them. “Do you even know what you have done! They will use that against us seeking retaliation for the souls you took!”

“We did not take any souls.” Silence settled heavily over them. He repeated, “We did not kill anyone.” He pointed towards where their line of bones had been, suppressing the wince from his throbbing shoulder at the action. There was no distinction between his pain and his brothers. Everything just hurt. “They are still alive. We simply pinned them.” Sure enough, the handful that had been caught in the beams of magic were getting to their feet. Some wavered but none looked severely injured. “All we did was increase the amount of gravity they were under until they could no longer stand.”

It had been a gamble, a risk they had been willing to take if it meant the line wasn’t broken. They weren’t used to utilizing Blue Magic - Gravity Magic - in that fashion but the slow integration of Blue Magic into the beams of pure magic had done exactly what they had intended for it to do.

The fact that their skull constructs had never inflicted damage before went without saying.

For a moment the crowd around them watched the aggressors scurry off. He kept his gaze on King Eragore, waiting. The King glared at him. He merely looked back, unperturbed, waiting. They could hold their own against the boss monster long enough to put distance between them and vanish from sight, if not incapacitate him.

“You two will be reprimanded for your actions here today,” King Eragore growled. A roll of voices started to surround them. “Especially if there is fallout from your choice of actions.”

He realized it was outrage coming from the voices around them only when some of the forms surged forward. It was interesting to watch surprise fill the King’s expression. Familiar hands wrapped around his ribs, lifting him up and away from the King. He managed to not cry out again as the pain gained an echo from his brother. Verdana tucked him into the crook of one arm before accepting his brother in the other from a stranger. The two that had thrown up the outer bone walls were between them and King Eragore, yelling at the larger monster, and they were not alone. Numerous others were placing themselves between King Eragore and him and his brother.

“My King,” cut through the noise like an explosion despite the voice’s actual volume being softer than most of those yelling. Silence fell immediately as the crowd parted ahead of the Crowned Prince. “What is going on? Why did you pull the soulings from their perch?”

All but the two from their small group moved from before the King. The two from their group merely looked to the approaching Crowned Prince, holding their ground. The Crowned Prince came to a stop just ahead of Verdana at Verdana’s side.

“Why are you not with your mother, Asgore,” King Eragore challenged instead.

He caught his brother’s gaze as they came to the same thought: there was no love lost between King and Crowned Prince despite the proclamation earlier.

“I had been bringing up the rear of the retreating civilians, making sure no one was left behind as our Queen led them to safety,” the Crowned Prince spoke. The words were formal and well measured. “I had looked back to make sure the last of the citizens had made it past when I caught sight of the soulings looking in the direction of the defensive line. They not only successfully captured three assailants in a side alley that were aiming to disrupt the line from behind, they noticed our line buckling under the force of the assault. Had they not taken the focus off of our people, we would have Dust on our hands instead of the political media challenge that is potentially ahead of us now.”

He knew immediately what the Crowned Prince had done as King Eragore bristled.

“And you think that will be better?” King Eragore growled, falling for it in the heat of his emotions.

“Is it not?” the Crowned Prince countered curiously.

King Eragore did not answer him. For a brief moment, the King glared at the Crowned Prince before turning that glare onto him and his brother before turning it on Verdana. “They will face the consequences of their actions. Expect to be contacted about it in the coming days.”

The King turned sharply and cut through the surrounding crowd, storming his way towards the cluster of civilians on the other end of the road. The crowd swarmed them as soon as the King was clear. He wondered if the circle of space that had been made around Verdana and the Crowned Prince was intentional or not.

One of those from their small group hurried forward, hands going to his brother. “Let me see them, Verdana.”

“Are they alright?” the Crowned Prince asked as Verdana lowered them back to their feet.

Verdana offered without looking up, “They will live, my Crowned Prince.”

The Crowned Prince waved him off. “Just Asgore, please. Or at least Prince Asgore if you have to be so formal.” The Crowned Prince looked to them. “And while I am glad they will live, that was not my question.”

A shudder raced down his spine as he felt the pain from his brother’s ankle fade and echoes of semi-familiar healing magic ghosted over his bones.

“They are fine, Prince Asgore,” the one healing his brother assured. “A few scrapes but nothing serious and everything easily healed.”

He watched his brother gently grab at the other’s wrists as the green healing magic soaked hands moved to his brother’s ribs. “No. That one is Decos’s.”

He shared in the other’s confusion. There was so much echoing that he hadn’t realized any of the injuries they had sustained had been solely his. Without thinking, he reached up and pressed at the point his brother had kept from being healed. Pain flared from the spot and he hissed from it. A different set of green healing magic soaked hands pressed into his chest and shoulder, blocking off the entrance and exit of a bullet wound.

“That is..." Prince Asgore started, sounding flabbergasted.

“They are a souling of two bodies, my Prince,” Verdana offered in a low voice. The crowd had not encroached into the privacy bubble it had unintentionally created. “Their soul echoes injuries and sensations between the two forms.”

He caught Prince Asgore looking at Verdana with something he interpreted as horror; which seemed odd so it was probably inaccurate. “For their entire existence?”

“It is dulling as they grow stronger. They are not as sensitive to each other’s experiences as they had been newly formed.”

The silence was not filled by another question like he had been expecting and stretched through the amount of time it took for his brother and him to be fully healed.

“Who are their parents?” Prince Asgore finally asked.

Verdana shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Montserrat and Garamond, my Prince. Montserrat Dusted shortly after the souling was newly formed 43 years ago.”

“Garamond Gaster is the other?” Verdana hummed an affirmation. “He left for overseas after his partner’s passing, then.”

“What do you mean “left for overseas”?” Arial barked. The crowd parted enough for Arial to walk into the circle assisted by some stranger. No one else batted an eye at the stranger so he assumed only he and his brother didn’t know who this person was. Arial was clutching at the right side of his ribs. “What? Are you telling me that that good for nothing heap of bones is on the front lines of some war our country is supposedly staying out of.”
“Arial,” the one that had healed his brother bit out.

Prince Asgore made some gesture as he stepped in, neutralizing the situation. “It’s quite alright,” the Crowned Prince assured the speaker before looking to Arial. “Garamond Gaster was enlisted to aid in negotiations. He has been working hard to keep us out of the brewing war overseas and has been a strong advocate for peaceful negotiations.” The Crowned Prince frowned. “Has he not been in contact with his family since his deployment?”

“Garamond was family by marriage, my Prince,” Verdana put in, cutting off Arial’s words before they could form fully. “He was the last of his small family group.”

Corsiva’s voice joined in. “He has reached out a few times but the work has kept him very busy.” The crowd barely moved yet Corsiva popped into the circle as if the crowd hadn’t existed. “My son-in-law is easily swept up by his work, which only amplified the challenge he already had with object permanence, even with those he loved and adored. It is part of my son’s strife with him, though Montserrat never seemed bothered by it.”

Prince Asgore glanced at Arial but gained nothing beyond an annoyed stare. “I can look into why he hasn’t taken time to visit home.”

Corsiva brushed the offer aside. “Garamond has utilized his leave, my Prince, don’t worry about that.”

The elder was dismissing the Crowned Prince’s worry and it confused him why those privy to the conversation held their breath. The Crowned Prince was very clearly not the King.

“If you are sure,” Prince Asgore conceded. “May I speak with the soulings for a brief moment?”

“If that is what you desire, my Prince,” Corsiva offered formally.

The frown on Prince Asgore’s face deepened. The large monster stepped to him and his brother, kneeling to be at eye level with them. It was a rather impressive feat, seeing as the monster was easily three times taller than they were. The others backed up to give them some semblance of privacy. “Hello little ones,” the Crowned Prince offered with a pleasant smile. “I am Asgore. What are your names?”

“Wing Dings,” his brother offered.

He followed his brother’s words with, “Wing Decos.”

“Are you two all well and healed now? No more pain?”

They shook their head no. The gnawing hunger was not the pain the Crowned Prince was asking after.

“Good. I’m glad.” To his surprise, the Crowned Prince sounded and looked genuinely relieved. “I wanted to offer you my thanks for your actions today, as well as an apology on my father’s behalf. Despite his fears, I believe your choice of action was not a bad one, especially since it did not cost either side any life. Still, it should not have been left to soulings to end the confrontation and I apologize for that.” There was a breath of silence, one where the Crowned Prince looked them both over. “I look forward to seeing what you two accomplish as you grow older.”

Prince Asgore made his way back through the crowd slowly, conversing with many there as he went. The majority of the crowd followed his lead towards the clusters of civilians that were wandering back.

“Come along,” Corsiva spoke to their small group. “Best we follow Prince Asgore’s lead.”

He took his brother’s hand following after the group. Corsiva and Verdana fell into conversation leaving him and his brother to be ignored by the others.

A familiar hand closed around his neck from behind pulling him to a stop. A glance at his brother and the faintest of echoes were enough to see Arial had grabbed his brother in the same manner. “Don’t expect any aid when King Eragore comes after you two,” Arial threatened. He shoved them forward and they stumbled under the force of it. “You two should know better than to get messed up in adult business.”

Arial stormed between them after the group.

His brother took his hand again. “Our actions saved lives and they are mad at us for it.”

“We have seen this before. There is more to their thoughts than the obvious.”

His brother turned a blank gaze to him but he kept watching Arial’s retreating back. “That is not what I was getting at.” He met his brother’s gaze. “If we keep doing things outside their unspoken rules, they will limit our movement more.”

“They would be welcome to try but you and I are aware of how lacking they are on that front.”

A faint shout of their names drew their attention back to the small group. Corsiva had stopped and turned back as the rest continued on; Verdana was heading towards them.

“You were successful, then.”

“Of course.” The weight of the bag resting in the cavity between ribs and pelvis rubbed strangely against his bones but it meant that what he had procured was secure from scrutiny. Even without checking he knew the bullet had missed it completely. “Wryn sent well wishes for you and is looking forward to seeing you again.”

His brother nodded. They watched Verdana approach in silence for a moment before his brother spoke, “How long do you think it will take them to figure it out?”

“I doubt the majority ever will with as unwanted as we are. Corsiva will soon enough if not already. Verdana may be the only other one.”

Silence settled between them. Verdana closed the last stretch of distance in that slow pace. “Are you two ok?”

They nodded.

Verdana reached down and lifted them up onto either shoulder. “We best get you two food. You must be starving after such an impressive display of magic.”

He glanced at his brother. That had been impressive? They had barely used a third of their magic, including what he had done to get back from his little outing.
The sirens filled the city with an eerie droning as they were slow to get to pitch. It was a sound that the world had gotten used to over the years and he hated it. He pulled out his mask as he felt the pang of annoyance from his brother somewhere on the other side of campus echoing his sentiments.

“Wing Dings!”

He paused in his walking, looking back to the familiar voice calling for him. Tessa grinned at him, bounding up to his side and allowing him to resume his walking. “Where’s your brother?” she inquired. “It’s rare to see you two not attached at the hip.”

He rolled his eyelights, amused. “Somewhere on campus. Where’s your mask?”

Tessa’s left ear drooped at that. “Mask?” The sirens hadn’t stopped and it was as if it hadn’t registered to the other until he had mentioned it. Both ears shot upright. “Oh shit!” Tessa stopped, digging through the four year old backpack that could pass as brand new. “Oh come on. Where is it.”

He looked where the wind was coming from, seeing the edges of the cloud the sirens were warning them of. Something must have changed. The sirens usually gave them more time. “We can make it inside, Tess,” he offered, looking to the nearest building. Already people were hurrying indoors.

“But I had it.” He frowned, looking back at her. There was something under the frantic of those words, a panic that seemed ill placed. “It was right here!”

He closed the distance between them and ran his fingers through the fur of her cheeks. She jerked back, startled, but he went with her motion, securing his mask into place over her nose and mouth. “Dings?” she questioned, muffled by the mask.

He offered a soft smile. “I don’t need to breathe, remember? I’ll be fine.”

The rigidness in Tessa’s body eased. “Oh. Yeah. It’s just for magic intake, right?”

Well, oversimplified, “In a sense.”

Tessa’s brow furrowed. “Why do you have a mask if you’re safe without one?”

His brother regularly asked him something similar.

“It puts other people at ease,” he offered her a grin since she would be able to see it, “though I think it has more to do with the fact that it’s harder to tell I’m a skeleton when I wear one.”

That furrowed brow deepened. “There’s nothing wrong with you being a skeleton.”

He laughed. “You are one of very few that still believe that.”

Tessa puffed up at that. “Well I’ll fight anyone that tries to come at you for it.” A gust of wind pushed into him as something over his shoulder drew her attention; she deflated. “We best hurry. We’ll be caught in it if we don’t move.”

He looked towards the sky and understood her concern.

The storms were getting worse. Over the years the plumes of toxic air had started to take on a more volatile nature and were beginning to rank among the most violent storms on the planet. As far as he could tell, no one knew why.

His long strides carried him swiftly to her side.

The storm was bearing down on them as they made it to the science building. There was a muted shout behind him. Glancing back, he caught sight of the stragglers.

“They’re going to get caught in it,” someone muttered to his right, most likely one of the staffers of the doors.

He looked to the staffers. “Do I have permission to use magic to get them here sooner?”

The staffers looked at him like he's grown a second head. It was the older human that gave him a nod. “Be quick about it, but only to bring them in.” He returned his attention to the few still out in the open. He brought his hand up. “Nothing more and don’t hurt them.”

The amount of magic required was laughable as he wrapped his magic around the three souls. With a flick of his wrist, they rose a foot off the ground before flying towards them at an incredible rate. There was a whoosh of air as he brought them to a quick, easy, and gentle stop just inside the outer doors. The staffers were quick to close the doors behind the two students and the professor.

“Thank you!” the two students gasped at him, relief clear in their expressions.

“Impressive use of Blue Magic,” the professor said, fixing the pair of glasses falling off their nose. The staffers and students meandered deeper into the building. He followed after the scattering of people. The professor fell into step beside him. “Am I wrong in concluding that it was a rather effortless task for you?”

“No,” he replied politely. “I have had plenty of practice for something like that to be a simple task.”

The professor chuckled, drawing his interest. “Yet you are barely into your second century, correct?”

Something that felt like a blend of confusion and concern weighed on him. “Humans are not able to gauge our age accurately often. How-”

The professor waved a hand, chuckling again. “Calm down, soul. You’re not the first skeleton I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” The professor’s blue eyes twinkled behind the lenses of the glasses barely clinging to the human’s nose. “In fact, I believe I know your other half; he’s one of my more brilliant students if I’m not confusing my skeletons.” Highly unlikely and the professor knew it, if the cheeky look was anything to go by; he and his brother were the only skeletons enrolled at the university presently. “Pity, really. I had told him I had wanted to meet you before the pair of you graduated but he’s ever so shy.”

That didn’t sound like his brother in the slightest. There was something else going on. “I doubt-”

“Dings.”

They both looked at the sound of his name and the professor’s smile grew. “Well speak of the Devil.”

“Decos,” he spoke in greeting. Tessa was bounding along at his brother’s side, mask in hand.

“Dr. Nullic,” his brother said to the professor beside him, nodding in greeting.

“Gaster,” the professor offered brightly. “I finally met your other half, though not in the way I had hoped. He gave me quite the show of magic not a moment ago.”

“I heard.” His brother looked to him, face as expressionless as ever. There wasn’t much in their shared soul, either. “Nothing excessive?”

“Never,” he promised. They wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“A simple bit of Blue Magic was all,” the professor said as if to assure his brother it truly had been nothing. “Brought in myself and two students before the edge of the storm hit.”

His brother turned a flatter look to the professor. “And that means your mask is where, Doctor.”

The professor grinned unapologetic, sharing, “In my car. Left it right on my dash and remembered only when the sirens went off. Didn’t have time to turn around for it at that point without risking getting caught in the thick of it.”

His brother rolled his eyes.

“Wing Dings,” accompanied the tugging at his sleeve and he looked down at Tessa. Whatever else his brother and the professor talked about was lost to him as she asked, “Do you want your mask back?”

“Not yet. You can return it when you retrieve your own mask.”

She nodded, looking back at his brother and the professor. After a moment of watching them discuss something that sounded almost like schoolwork, she reminded him, “We should get going. Our class starts in a few minutes.”

“Ah, don’t let us hold you up,” the professor urged them, waving them off. “Have a good day, you two, and thank you again for the assist, Gaster.”

“Of course.”

As soon as they rounded a corner, Tessa was grinning at him. “That’s another one.”

“Another one what?”

“Another one that doesn’t care that you’re a skeleton.”

He blinked at that. “True.” Not that he was certain it was in the way she was thinking. He was certain it was because he was a skeleton that he and his brother had the professor’s attention but he neither had proof nor an understanding as to why he suspected such a thing. “Heard anything about the storm’s duration?”

“The channels are saying the shift in direction had been unexpected but it hasn’t slowed. Should be through the area before our class is out at the latest.”

They passed into a hallway that had exterior windows and he found his gaze drawn to the scene outside. The roaring wind was pressing against the building, the reinforced windows holding as they were supposed to. Branches of lightning constantly appeared and faded in the sky above but nothing seemed to be touching ground yet. His view of the building across the wide walking path was obscured by the haze of toxic air as if it was a fog that had settled in at midday.

A classroom obscured his view and he returned his attention to the hallway. “Hopefully the alert went out soon enough that very few are caught in it.”

“Do you really think there will be a time we won’t be able to go outside without a mask on?”

Her ears had fallen by the time he looked to her. “Not in your lifetime, but eventually.”

“What about those that don’t have proper homes? Are they just going to have to wear a mask all the time?”

“Most likely. A lot of people will die from it.”

Her ears flattened backwards in her anger. “There has to be something we can do. Some place that’s safe enough for people to live without having to constantly wear a mask.”

The conversation ended at the classroom door as he held it open for her. He caught sight of the few that still thought he was dangerous even after weeks of classes shifting in their seats but he ignored them. She was right. There had to be something they could do to save the masses. The masks weren’t a permanent solution and the world knew that.

The class started and despite his desire to respect the professor and listen to the redundant class, he couldn’t focus. Instead, he had a notebook out and was writing line after line of information, of ideas. If they couldn’t figure out how to clear out the toxic air, they would have to either get above it or below it until they could. The technologies they had - magic included - weren’t quite up to par to create civilizations that could hover in the unaffected layers of the atmosphere but they could dig. It was just a matter of designing self regulating and perpetuating ecosystems that could survive underground.

It was Tessa who drew him out of his scrawling. Her ears were canted in a show of curiosity but she simply said, “Class is out. Storm’s hanging around, though, so that’ll be a fun trek.”

He glanced out the window. The winds had died down and the lightning was far off. The haze had lightened but the air would still be toxic until the all clear went out. “It won’t be terrible.” He tucked the notebook back into his bag. “Come on. I’ll walk you to class.”

His brother met him outside the art building, maskless as he expected. Despite the hate towards their kind, his brother very rarely wore a mask.

“Has Tessa returned your mask?”

He shook his head. “I think the storm’s distracted her. If I get it back before the weekend, I will be surprised.”

His brother hummed in acknowledgement but said nothing as they watched packs, pairs, and individuals scurry across campus.

“Decos.” He felt his brother’s attention turn to him without the other actually looking at him. “You were waiting to respond to Col. Jepsin this evening.”

"Correct.”

“It will be an acceptance. There is no luxury of choice in this matter and I doubt there ever was.”

His brother’s weight shifted next to him but still his brother didn’t turn to face him. “What changed your mind?”

“Other than I had a chance to think? Tessa. It came up in our conversation.” He pulled out the notebook and passed it to his brother without looking. “Was unable to concentrate on the lecture. Had a few thoughts that could work.”

“None of these are quick solutions.”

“Quick or not, they are solutions.” He looked to his brother; after a moment his brother met his gaze. “Better than anything else they’re going to come up with if we can get it to work. And a single point of entry is better than an unknown amount due to poor construction.”

“They want us on this immediately.”

He waved off the comment knowing his brother was just bringing the point up as a reminder. “If they give us our final exams now, we would pass and qualify for the doctorate. Neither of us took a class that proved to be a challenge this semester.”

A smirk filled his brother’s expression, a rare sight as he felt the amusement that drove it. “It will be entertaining to see them fight for that if they want us fully certified.”

A small smile pulled at his own expression. “We could make it a requirement that we receive the doctorate.”

“If we prove ourselves, they might just give us two.”

Despite it being a joke, he quickly found that it had some truth to it less than a week later.

He and his brother were among the oldest in the room as the meeting came to a close. Many of the attendees had looked to them for ideas and guidance because of it, expecting 106 years of existence to culminate in a strong, knowledge filled mind with a good moral compass. There were the scattered few that knew how skeletons aged and had treated them as if they were nothing more than a pair of ten year old human children playing adult, the same as the rest of their supposed family. One such person was King Eragore, dismissing his brother’s words when someone had asked their opinion. Crowned Prince Asgore expertly worked around the King’s dismissal, gaining the rest of his brother’s explanation.

He wasn’t sure if the King remembered who they were or if the disdain towards them was from some different prejudice. The only time they had interacted with the King had been at the celebration of Prince Asgore becoming the Crowned Prince. He knew the Crowned Prince recognized them; the larger monster had taken the time to greet them warmly when they had walked in. But the King?

“It seems you two have not yet learned where your place is.”

He and his brother looked up from the documents they had been reviewing. Those that had lingered to talk with them shrank from the large form behind them. King Eragore was looking down on them as if they were petulant children that had pushed too far. If nothing else, it answered his question: the King remembered them.

“With all due respects, my King,” his brother spoke, “we were invited to this meeting. Your people saw it fit to include us.”

The quiet rage in the King’s face darkened. “You are merely children. Return home and don’t come back.”

His brother’s expression and voice remained neutral. “Is it truly worth the risk to not include as many intellects as possible on this - especially certified ones - when it is every life on the planet relying on there being a viable, even if temporary, solution? Allowing as many as possible to help with that burden will guarantee as many people make it through this catastrophe as possible.”

King Eragore bristled but it was the Crowned Prince’s voice that answered his brother. “Sometimes those not certified are the ones to bring about the most successful of solutions.” Prince Asgore stopped at his father’s side. “My King, you next meeting will be starting shortly. Allow me to wrap this up in your stead.”

King Eragore bore down on the Crowned Prince as the King turned. “I expect there to be no children on the team, Asgore, or so help me.”

Prince Asgore merely bowed in lieu of an answer.

King Eragore stormed off. The Crowned Prince’s eyes did not leave the King’s back until he was out of sight. Prince Asgore looked to him and his brother. “Thank you for accepting my invitation and I apologize for putting you in such a situation. Unfortunately he and I do not share the same view on this and bringing you two on appears to have strained what little progress I had made in persuading him otherwise.”

His brother raised a hand to brush the Crowned Prince’s apology aside. “He would have to do far more than threaten us to keep either of us from assisting in this matter. This is far more important than a simple personal matter.”

Prince Asgore smiled at that. “Good. I look forward to seeing what you two and the rest of the teams propose at the next meeting.”

The Crowned Prince nodded to the small group behind them before tailing after his father. He and his brother turned back to the small group and it was like the incident had never happened.

The conference space was full for the second meeting a week later, though it was more of a conference than a meeting at that point. There was a constant buzz of chatter as people started taking their seats at the tail end of the lunch break. Already ten teams had presented their ideas and very few strayed from the initial ideas he had scribbled down in a notebook two weeks prior. It seemed no one believed they could make a solution for the toxic air fast enough to keep it from completely saturating the atmosphere.

“Are you two ready?”

They turned as one in mirrored motion to look at Dr. Laurn Alma. Behind her was Kel Taul and Professor Cant Brix-Oha. He caught sight of Yov-Pippin talking with the technician as his brother offered, “Of course.”

“Good.” Professor Brix-Oha’s voice rumbled lower than normal as the other kept his voice down. “We’re about to go on.”

The emcee stepped up to the front of the stage. Silence fell over the crowd. He half listened as the speaker welcomed them all back hoping the lunch hour had been a pleasant break before introducing their group. He and his brother followed Dr. Alma and Taul onto stage, followed by Professor Brix-Oha and Yov-Pippin. Dr. Alma started speaking as soon as she touched the designated marks, the rest of the team settling at their own marks. He half listened to the introduction. In his opinion, he thought it was unnecessary but Prince Asgore had requested each team follow the same outline of presentation.

“...ained by Wing Dings Gaster and Wing Decos Gaster,” from Taul drew his attention and he followed his brother to the front of the stage, effectively trading places with the previous speakers.

His brother started them off. “The challenge set before us all is coming up with a solution that will last long enough for us to not only find a counteragent to the toxins filling the air, but to clear the atmosphere of it completely. As many have discovered, we have two choices: either we get above it, or below it. And as much as I will miss the sun, I doubt we have enough time to try and reinvent the wheel.” A roll of chuckles drifted through the audience. “We know we have the technologies to dig and as these projects begin, we’ll have the minds to better our technologies and streamline the process. The only thing we need now is a final product to strive for.”

He shifted his stance, knowing the screen behind them had changed as he took over. “Our proposal is a singular, massive tunnel that will have a self-sustaining and perpetuating ecosystem, generating its own water, plant life, and energy. This massive tunnel simply labeled UNDERGROUND at the present time will have four different climate zones within it: temperate, polar, tropic, and arid. Each zone will be livable, though not necessarily pleasant for those that do not care for that given climate.”

His brother continued, “The idea is to take this single UNDERGROUND and replicate it all over the planet to guarantee that everyone can be safely housed. Until our technologies get better, there is no way to create an underground network of any sort without running the risk of plate tectonics causing damage to the network. Individual UNDERGROUNDs located in strategic locations on the continental plates will guarantee the longevity of the UNDERGROUND and guarantee access to all seeking refuge.”

“It’s a hefty project, one that will employ a lot of people and require a significant amount of time, material, and magic. However, going with such a large design means that these UNDERGROUNDs become more than a temporary shelter. The intent behind this is to allow the maximum amount of time to find a solution for the toxin in the air. If done right, the UNDERGROUND would be able to sustain life for several millennia and never run out of resources. Life could persist without people having to constantly worry about an impending deadline.”

“The UNDERGROUND would be powered by the natural forces within it. The design is meant to get deep enough or situated in a way that allows access to raw magma. The stretch that would be exposed to the magma would become the arid zone and within this zone the CORE will be situated.”

“The CORE is the main source of power for the different zones. The intent behind the CORE is to have a fully automated system that utilizes the energy generated by the magma and turn it into electricity. Whether that is through geothermal or some other way has yet to be finalized. The CORE will not be the only source of power. There will be water turbines in the tropic zone and wind turbines in the polar, both as backup and secondary power sources should there be any issues with the CORE itself.”

“This isn’t a perfect plan by any means. We are only a team of six that had a week to prepare something to show. We do not claim to have the best idea today but we do ask this: no matter which project gets selected, give it your all. We will need every type of mind helping to iron down the actual logistics of how any plan will work and what it will take to make it come to life.”

“The fate of life on this planet depends on it.”

The last proposal closed to a round of applause like every presentation before it. He could see the weight of it all dragging at the audience, sapping what energy any of them had left as the Crowned Prince took center stage. King Eragore had stepped on stage but remained near the back.

“Thank you everyone for your proposals. I am very pleased to see the varieties among the similar ideas and look forward to the final product of our collective planning. For the remainder of the hour, review the proposals and cast your votes for your top three picks. The last hour is reserved for the results.”

The half hour vanished and the last hour started with a lot of chatter. He and his brother had only needed five minutes to vote. They fell into discussing the different ways they could adapt the different aerial proposals had the sky’s been the limit. It had been entertaining enough that when the results were posted, they both were surprised to see a unanimous vote for the UNDERGROUND proposal. The proposal that came second had under half the votes the UNDERGROUND proposal had received.

He didn’t understand the cheer that went up and his brother echoed the sentiment.

“Well done, Team 11,” King Eragore agreed as he came to a stop center stage. “It would seem you have created something that people believe will work. Now it’s time to put it to the test. The three teams with the most votes - Teams 11, 2, and 6 - will have five years to prove their proposals will work. Those present will have the chance to choose which proposal they wish to work on. However, know that the three winning teams will gain an equal amount of support. If you choose a proposal that has reached its cap, you will be ushered to your second choice. Any questions?”

A cacophony of noise filled the hall when the King dismissed them. He and his brother found themselves in the middle of a swarm of supporters, many excited, but there were the scattering of skeptics. Oddly enough, he was the one to counter them instead of his brother who remained rather quiet at his side. The skeptics brought good points to the table and he and the rest of the team were quick to start talking them out with both skeptics and supporters.

“Five years is not much time,” Yov-Pippin pointed out hours later as they ate dinner.

Dr. Alma gave a huffed chuckle. “It is in the large scheme of things. Money, materials- between us and Team 6, we’ll end up bleeding countries dry with our proposals.”

“Not necessarily,” his brother countered without looking up. “We had been working on making it cost effective, especially in materials.”

“Utilize what we dig out to build the infrastructure, pick areas with high magic concentration to better start the ecosystem,” he added as a reminder.

Taul nodded sagely. “All we have to do is find a location for Site Zero.”

“Didn’t we already have one?” Professor Brix-Oha asked.

“We do,” Dr. Alma confirmed. “We just have to walk the site next week to make sure.”

There were surprisingly few hiccups with the creation of Site Zero that by the time the five year mark had rolled around, Site Zero had been sustaining itself for three years. It wasn’t as massive as the final UNDERGROUNDs would be but as the ecosystem had settled itself out, they had proven that expansion was rather easy to do and the ecosystem was quick to adapt. Already the polar zone was twice the original size without affecting the balance of the system and the tropic zone - though many were calling it the water zone due to the numerous rivers, lakes, and occasional rain the area contained - would expand on its own as the water eroded the rock away, making new tunnel systems as the years went on.

It was the CORE that gave them the most trouble. They had a week left and still the CORE was not finished. The stress was getting to a large portion of the team and many were starting to reach the end of their nerves. Just in the last three days he had to break up five altercations, two of which turned into full brawls. It was exhausting.

“Here.” He looked up from the papers he was staring at to find Yov-Pippin at his elbow offering a steaming coffee cup. For a moment he didn’t understand why the cup was steaming. It wasn’t until he was wrapping his hand around the warm cup that he remembered he wasn’t in the arid zone. All he had been working on the last few months was the CORE, Taul's spectacular creation when it worked, and very few drank anything hot in the arid zone, favoring the iced version of anything to counter the heat of the zone. He and his brother were no exception. “Wing Decos said to make sure you took a break and wandered somewhere other than the UNDERGROUND.”

He took a long drink from the cup, the hot liquid bringing his attention to how cool his body had become. “I will in an hour. I need to get through these pages and get them off to Bax.”

Yov-Pippin raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been staring at them for the last thirty minutes, Wing Dings. I’d be surprised if you retained anything from them in the last hour.” His coat was offered to him. “Come on. Let’s go check on Tunnel Six. Zone Two’s given the green light for Zone One to start back up on the pipe work there.”

“Oh, excellent!” He took his coat from the other, following the smaller out the door. “Did my brother say he would be coming to check on that?”

“I doubt he remembers around the CORE work. He had been heading to Zone Four to assist in another complication with the machinery when he sent me to fetch you.”

“Hopefully he is successful in finding a permanent solution for whatever the complication is this time.”

Yov-Pippin’s posture sagged at that. “We all do.”

The trek towards the tunnel that connected Zone One and Two was a quiet fifteen minutes. They arrived just as the first line of wires were connected.

“Dr. Gaster! Min Yov!”

His gaze was immediately drawn to the familiar voice. “Bax. I thought you were in Zone Five overseeing the expanding infrastructure there.”

Bax gave the both of them his customary massive grin. “Opal called me as soon as they got the green light to start work. Wanted another set of eyes on the project once it got going.”

“Zone Five’s stable, then?” Yov-Pippin piped in.

“Stable and running smooth. I’ve got good team leads that I trust to do the job right.”

“Send me a list of names that would be willing to assist other projects,” he requested. “I’ve got a few looking for good team leads.”

Bax chuckled. “Going to steal all my good folk and make me actually do work, there, Doc?”

He shrugged. “You are supposed to be working, Bax. Speaking of…” He turned his attention to the pipe work. “I only know what the end goal was and that there had been some sort of delay.”

Bax frowned at him. “Opal not keeping you in the loop?”

“More like she hasn’t had time,” Yov-Pippin offered. “Not to mention both Dr. Gasters have been primarily focused at the CORE.”

“That thing still causing troubles?”

“Unfortunately,” he said, the word heavy in his displeasure with it. “Hopefully we’ll-”

A shout went up, cutting off his words. It was brief, panicked, and drowned out by the burst of noise that chased after it.

The explosion ripped through the tunnel, throwing many people to the ground by the shockwave in the ground alone. Smoke and dust rushed outwards from the blast choking the tunnel.

There was a ringing in his skull. His vision wasn’t focusing properly but he could make out Bax. The other’s posture spoke of some injury but he was standing barking orders into the radio or at those rushing around.

He felt the rumble as the ringing in his ears persisted.

Something moved above them.

Massive bones shot out of the ground around him, colliding with the chunk of ceiling that had tried to crush him and those nearest him. The burst of unconscious magic sent a wave of awareness through him and despite the ringing still going on in his skull, he could think clearly enough to act.

He pulled on their magic. Hard.

A powerful Check pinpointed every soul location in the tunnel, echoing off of the walls, floor, and ceiling to give him sight through the smoke and dust. Magic was tangible around him as he took off running into the heart of the chaos.

A massive skull construct materialized overhead. It moved ahead of him as a long, equally massive snake skeleton started to form from the base of the skull. The ribs started raking the ground until the massive creation stilled, the nose of the skull pressed into the wall over the explosion point. The entire creation created a covered walkway all the way back to the safe area he had just come from. He braced the walls and ceiling with normal bone constructs, keeping the tunnel intact as he systematically started wrapping souls in Blue Magic and pulling them under the cover of the skeletal construct.

It didn’t take long for others to join him. Several bodies dashed past him towards the pipe. Opal was at his side not a moment later. Her magic hummed as she stood beside him, agitated and ready to act should her people need it. Others started darting from the skeletal construct to intercept those he was bringing in.

Someone shouted.

A loud rumble filled the tunnel chased by a ripple of panic.

He found himself on the ground.

Every insignificant inch of his body hurt but the worst of the pain was coming from his face. It stretched from his right socket up and he wasn’t even sure if it was his skull or his socket that hurt the most. There was a tautness in his chest that was wrong but he didn’t have time to deal with it.

Everything screamed at him as he shoved himself back up onto unsteady feet. The results of his Check were gone and he sent another pulse out.

The pulse of magic burned, the pain of it nearly buckling his knees.

There were a few injured souls nearby but the echoing off of the surrounding tunnel made no sense.

It took far too long for him to realize he couldn’t actually see. The echoes made no sense because what had once been an open space was now littered with debris from a partial cave in his constructs had held against.

“Wing Dings!”

He reached back. Massive hands wrapped around his arm, first near his wrist and then close to the shoulder joint. He hissed from the burst of pain the touch caused. If he was still standing, it was no longer because of his own power.

“Easy, Wing Dings,” the familiar voice urged as there were more flares of pain. “We’re getting you out of here.”

He tried shoving against his would-be rescuer. All he could feel was pain and the growing tightness in his chest. “No,” came out in a croak. “There’re-There are more injured. They are-”

“We can see them,” the familiar voice informed him, low and calm. “The magic you sent out is acting like a beacon around the souls. Others are helping them to safety. Let me help you.”

What physical strength he still had was laughable as he tried to fight against the request. He wasn’t leaving until the tunnel was cleared of all survivors, until they were certain that those deeper in the UNDERGROUND would be able to leave. He shoved at Prince Asgore’s chest in an attempt to get free but the Crowned Prince’s massive arms didn’t even budge.

Darkness swallowed him.
The incessant beeping of a nearby monitor was starting to grate on his already frayed nerves. Despite the lack of complete comprehension of emotions between the two of them, they could now at least recognize most of what they felt and why. Case in point: he knew exactly why a cold rage had settled in his being, tightly bound in his chest so that it did not leak into their shared soul.

His twin was an imbecile.

Between the two of them, he was far less prone to emotions beyond curiosity and annoyance, something his brother had been content with mimicking. The cold rage was definitely one he had not felt in years and it had not been his own at the time. Now, though, there was no calm or fear or even agitation in their shared soul for him to focus on instead, no thoughts that weren't actually thoughts to help keep his focus on reality instead of finicky emotions.

His twin was a fucking idiot.

A soft knock filled the quiet of the room, a warning to the door opening. The neutral expression settled over his face with practiced ease as he watched the doctor lead the Crowned Prince in.

Annoyance flared in his chest at the implication. The Crowned Prince knew where he was going. Did the staff truly think he needed a guide?

There were a few words exchanged that he didn't care to retain before the doctor stepped back out. He turned his gaze back to his brother.

"How is he?"

"Stable," he offered, his voice still frustratingly hoarse and painful. With a burn of distaste, he started speaking in hands and soul. "They say he should start to wake in the next few hours."

The silence that followed was heavy. He hated it.

Prince Asgore placed an equally heavy hand on his shoulder. Had he not been anticipating the touch, he would have jumped out from underneath it. It sent a strange, not exactly painful tingling sensation over the bones of his shoulder, across his ribs, and down his spine. "How are you holding up?"

"I am coherent and moving. Outside of that, nothing has changed since your last visit."

He vehemently ignored the look Prince Asgore sent him. "That is not what I asked."

A sigh escaped him, a mannerism that had rubbed off onto his brother and somehow onto him. "I am fine, Prince Asgore. There is nothing to be done and subsequently nothing to fret about until he awakens." He met the Crowned Prince's gaze with a neutral, albeit flat, expression. "And seeing as I am simply sitting here waiting, it is no surprise I have nothing more to share."

"Yet you are still heavily wrapped in blankets even after five days."

He turned his gaze back to his unconscious brother. "Counting days will bring you nothing more than hardship, my Prince. Especially when those counted days mean nothing in the full scheme of things."

"Wing Decos." Tension he hadn't expected filled his body at the sound of his name, the words weighed down by concern and disappointment and something he couldn't decipher. "Is it so hard to accept there are those that care for you and your brother?"

He met Prince Asgore's gaze with another neutral expression. "If you did not care for the people, you would not be the King we all need."

Prince Asgore raised an eyebrow. He didn't understand the other's amusement in this. "And yet I'm not allowed to care for individuals personally?"

"You are welcome to do as you so please, my Prince," he offered formally; what he said next, not so much. "But it would be detrimental if you chose to care for us personally. The late King presumed favoritism from the start and, after the incident, many others will as well."

“He was not the only one I carried out,” the Crowned Prince pointed out but he couldn’t tell if it was defensive or exasperated, as if the Crowned Prince had heard this time and time again already.

“But he was the first.” He expected to meet the Crowned Prince’s gaze when he looked over but instead he found Prince Asgore looking at his brother. “And unfortunately there were already rumors pertaining to your favoritism of us.” A pause, only to prove his point with, “The staff have noticed how often you visit.”

Prince Asgore sighed heavily. “Why is it so wrong to worry about the ones that had saved so many lives?”

“It isn’t.” He finally gained the Crowned Prince’s gaze. “What is wrong is letting it influence your actions and desires, allowing it to steer your attention away from the collective and your duties.” Had his brother been awake, he was sure the Crowned Prince would have gained more flowery words but he wasn’t his brother and he didn’t see the point in treating the Crowned Prince any differently than any other person. “While we appreciate your concern, we would much rather see you become King with all the support of monster- and humankind. This will blow over in the coming months. Very few live long enough for it to hold anyone’s attention for more than a year.”

Prince Asgore chuckled, gaze drifting back to his brother. “You may be right about that.”

“We both know I am.”

Silence stretched between them. The beeping had stopped at some point during their conversation and he relished the quiet.

When the Crowned Prince spoke again, it startled him out of a doze.

“I am naming the both of you Royal Scientists after the coronation.”

A slight frown pulled at his expression. “Neither of us require a title.”

That kind, curious gaze was on him again. “Have none of your colleagues come to visit?”

“Only an initial visit shortly after the incident. The priority was repairing the damage done and stabilizing the systems that had been affected by the explosion.”

“The world chose the UNDERGROUND Initiative.”

“Wasn’t the decision delayed until the end of next week because of the collapse?”

“It was, but the Tollen Project withdrew the day of the original deadline. And since ILMER left the running two years ago, that leaves the UNDERGROUND Initiative. Even with the collapse, the UNDERGROUND as a whole was barely affected. The damage was contained and surveyors are returning with positive results, saying that the damage done barely touched anything structural, that most of it was superficial.”

He started to shake his head. “But the CORE-”

“Simply ahead of its time.” He gave the Crowned Prince a flat glare; Prince Asgore laughed. “The wind and water turbines are doing what they are supposed to do and generating power in the CORE’s absence, meaning that the CORE can be perfected in time.” What humor had filled the Crowned Prince quickly fell away. “Your team has proven that the UNDERGROUND can be expanded as needed and the world has seen that progress. Unfortunately, the air quality is worsening and they are predicting less than fifty years before the storms become irrelevant. The toxic air will have simply permeated too much of the atmosphere at that point.”

Mild disbelief shaped his expression. “These aren’t quick solutions. Site Zero is barely complete, an imitation of what the UNDERGROUNDS are supposed to be. Having the work force to create enough to house the entire populous of the planet will be-”

“Wing Decos.” He flinched under Prince Asgore’s hand as it settled on his shoulder. “It will be fine. The world chose the plan your team has worked so hard to perfect. That’s a good thing.” The hand tightened on his shoulder but it remained a gentle touch. “There is plenty of time. Even the rest of the world believes that.”

He met the Crowned Prince's gaze with an expressionless one. “If you say so, my Prince."

After another moment of silence, there was another knock on the door. He didn’t bother looking towards it this time. Prince Asgore rose to face the visitor.

“My Liege, we must be going.”

An attendant, then.

“I’ll be right out, Doge. Thank you.” The door clicked shut. He felt Prince Asgore’s attention turn to him. “I’ll visit again with papers concerning your Royal Scientist statuses.”

“Simply send a staff member to do that.”

Prince Asgore chuckled, patting his shoulder. “I could but I want the excuse to see you both when you two have gotten better.”

“If that is your desire, my Prince,” he responded. It wouldn’t be worth the effort to argue the matter.

The door clicked shut behind the Crowned Prince’s departure. The room was thick with silence. He sank deeper into his blankets letting his thoughts escape him.

A nurse gently patted his shoulder through the thick layers of blankets; he almost didn’t register the gesture. He gave the nurse a flat look, unable to muster the magic to form an eyelight to see clearly.

“I have a fresh set of hot blankets for you and your brother.”

He blinked, frowning slightly as the words settled among sluggish thoughts. Realization snapped sharply into place and he turned his focus to digging himself out. The nurse helped him, hands surer and at a better angle to undo the bundling the last nurse had done. He shuddered when the air of the room finally reached him like a blanket of ice. He knew logically it wasn’t that cold in the room but his body didn’t seem to care; shivers coursed through his being and made him quake uncontrollably.

The nurse was speaking to him. He ignored them. The blanket draped over his front was blessedly warm despite it feeling almost too hot to bear against the bare bones of his hands and arms. The nurse dutifully wrapped him back up in another hot blanket bundle. There was a brief question he didn’t hear the words for but he knew the intent. He shook his head no. He was quite content to remain where he was even if he was falling asleep in a chair. His body would be sore but he had no muscles to complain or cramp from sleeping in the awkward position.

At the edge of their shared soul, he felt his brother coming back to awareness. They were of one soul. There wasn’t simply a part that was him or his brother. They existed as two that were one without being able to explain it. They would have shared experiences like this, waking up at the same time and suffering the same pain, but they were growing stronger as individuals, growing more separate despite the shared soul, and that left a wrongness in its wake that he didn’t care to delve into. That wrongness had been hovering just out of reach all week and now edged his curiosity.

His brother did not wake until after the nurse had left and even then there was very little in an outward show.

“I thought we had agreed on nothing excessive.”

The words were hoarse, painful; whatever time had passed since his conversation with the Crowned Prince had done nothing.

His brother blinked open a socket that remained half lidded and aimed at the ceiling. “I had simply reacted. The tunnel was caving in and there were people to protect.”

He felt the echo of pain and for a brief moment, they both shared a burst of concern. It wasn’t like they only had the one voice but to lose it would be troublesome.

Still, he kept speaking. “Such a display is dangerous.”

And so did his brother.

That gained him his brother’s empty socket gaze. “Such a display was necessary. I had to ensure that the majority were able to escape and those that were aiding had cover.”

“At the risk of killing us.”

His brother blinked. Despite the distance between them, he felt his brother's attention drift. “Your skull is bandaged.”

“As is yours.” His brother pulled a hand out from under the covers. Exhaustion washed over him hard and fast and for a brief moment he truly felt what his brother was feeling down to the press of the blankets and mattress against a form that was so cold. His brother’s movement only paused for a breath before continuing with the motion. The echo between them faded as he watched his brother brush steady fingers against the bandages covering the left socket and most of the skull top. He settled more heavily into the blankets as he continued, “From the sound of it, you took a rock to the skull above the right socket. The bone is permanently cracked and only time will determine if it will have any effect on our vision. Unfortunately, due to your rash actions, they are more baffled by the fact that we still live despite the cracks in our soul.” His brother’s empty socket gaze fell on him again and he clarified, “You used too much magic too quickly for the distance between us, causing our soul to crack in several places.”

A heavy pause before, “And our voice?”

“They’re not sure. The assumption is that it’s the same reason as for the exhaustion and why our forms seem to be more sensitive to temperature. From what I could gather from their long winded explanation with this exhaustion, our magic is not circulating due to the cracks. Our soul has to heal and it will take time for it to start generating and utilizing magic like normal.”

“At least, that’s the assumption,” his brother clarified.

“That is the assumption, yes,” he confirmed. “There are only three other cases remotely similar to ours in medical history and only one survived - granted, that one had been human, so only so much can be taken away from that particular case.”

“So we're the only case."

"Basically."

Silence wrapped around them lasting to the point he started to assume his brother had fallen back asleep.

"So where does that leave us?"

A slight frown pulled at his face as he turned his gaze back to his brother. "In what context?"

"The UNDERGROUND Initiative, my infraction and belief of proper cause on our agreement." His brother met his gaze. "Our current state of existence."

He shifted under the blankets, offering easily, "The UNDERGROUND Initiative has been selected. The Tollen Project withdrew the day of selection-"

"As you had suspected it would," his brother interjected.

He nodded and kept going. "Despite my ire with your choice of action, it seems to have gained us good favor. I doubt there will be any that see us as children after that display at minimum. As for our current state of existence..." The sensation was odd, something they didn't truly have words for, as he pulled at the magic in his form. It was his brother who was reminded of a sensation as it echoed between them and he was content labeling it as a dull burning sensation. It was mostly on the inside of his ribs and spine but it radiated over his back and shoulders, up the arm he lifted out of the blankets to direct the magic that felt like sludge in his being. Despite the uncomfortable sensation, it took nothing to replicate the snake skeleton his brother had created back in the UNDERGROUND, though the entire thing was smaller to fit in the room. "Outside of some scars and other residual conditions, I believe our existence has not been changed significantly."

Well, to an extent. The damage to their soul barely affected their magic but they still had to heal and that took time. A week and a half later saw barely any change and what healing had happened had been to their physical forms rather than the cracks in their soul. It left him annoyed as he and his brother were wheelchair bound for the assembly. All but a few scientists from their team were present. He and his brother were not the only ones still recovering but it irked him that he couldn’t at least walk onto stage with the others.

“Wing Dings! Wing Decos!”

His attention moved from the collective to the individual. Taul was approaching with the rest of the initial team following close behind.

His brother noticed one absence first. “Where’s Yov-Pippin?” Something heavy pressed down on the initial team and for a moment, he couldn’t quite understand it with how strong his brother’s confusion was. It quickly shifted into suspicion. "What happened," his brother demanded, voice a flat tone they hadn't used in a long time. His brother had shut down their soul with a swift vice grip, sealing all of the emotions they had learned so finitely, he was suddenly left being an observer, an outsider to the interaction.

The entire team withdrew from the words in some way and he watched, catching some of the subtler differences. Pain was universal in varied forms: guilt, regret, shame, and loss the most prominent.

The others looked to Dr. Alma. His brother followed their lead, focusing on the leader of their team with empty sockets. Dr. Alma returned the look with one as equally controlled and expressionless. “Min Yov passed away yesterday due to a complication from a sudden infection. Despite the amount of progress they had made with healing, their system was still too compromised to combat the, in the doctor’s words, vicious onset of infection. There’s an inquiry in progress to make sure that no one was at fault.”

His brother nodded, asking in turn, “Have we lost anyone else?”

“Not at this point, as far as I’ve been told.”

“Afternoon, everyone. It is time to find your seat and get settled. We will be starting in five minutes.”

Dr. Alma held his brother’s gaze as the others started drifting towards the risers at the back of the stage. “It had not been our intention to leave you out of the information. I only found out this morning and have barely been able to inform anyone else.”

“I understand, Dr. Alma,” his brother assured her, though his voice remained inflectionless. “Thank you for telling me. Yov-Pippin will be missed.”

“Min Yov will be missed by all who knew them.”

The assembly was dull as his brother refused to allow either of them access to the deeper parts of their soul. It was probably for the best, what with the news and knowing the weight that was now going to press into his brother once the hold on their soul was released.

The assembly itself was a grand show of naming the UNDERGROUND Initiative as the world’s plan to give them time to find a solution. King Asgore was proud to give every scientist from the three different teams the title of Royal Scientist, though there would be some ranking in among the title distribution. Every UNDERGROUND would have at least one original Royal Scientist to oversee the project’s progress and then lead in what was dubbed the Overworld Project. He wasn’t sure if the King had named the project himself or not, but it was a rather plain name for finding a solution to the toxic atmosphere.

The audience - nor the majority of the other scientists - didn’t seem to care as all the news was taken in stride. There was chatter and cheering and he was able to make out the distinct signs of relief on the faces around them. It seemed that as long as there was a chance, a flicker of hope, people could find a way to keep moving forward.

Work swallowed them after that. With the verdict decided, world planning had to begin. Teams were sent out to survey massive stretches of lands so that each UNDERGROUND could have all the necessary zones without fear of plate tectonics damaging the massive tunnel system for the foreseeable future.

It would be two long, grueling years before the first ground was broken. It would be another seven before the final UNDERGROUND broke ground.

No two tunnels ended up being the same. The basic zones were there in the same order - that couldn’t change - but some twisted and curved while others were ramrod straight. Two were flooded by unusual natural disasters while a third’s ceiling collapsed under its source of water; while the first two had been salvageable, the third had to be abandoned. Four others succumbed to earthquakes that had compromised the integrity of the walls - only one was able to combat and utilize the compromise bringing about a better way to form the tunnel that the other UNDERGROUNDs latched onto.

The first one to be started on would be among the last completed due to complications not with the UNDERGROUND itself but the equipment and materials being used. It had been under the watchful eye of one of the more senior scientists from one of the other teams but after countless delays and a looming deadline getting closer and closer, King Asgore was the one to pull him and his brother away from their respective UNDERGROUNDs.

Just under fifteen years after the first UNDERGROUND was started, one of the last ones to be started was completed. Others followed suit in close succession but it would be four years before all of the UNDERGROUNDs were declared complete.

The estimation for complete saturation of the atmosphere dropped significantly over that time, leaving barely two years to relocate the world populous into the UNDERGROUNDs.

“Do you think we have enough time?” one of the transfers asked at his elbow, eyes on the data coming in as the system assigned people to UNDERGROUNDs.

“It’ll be well organized,” his brother spoke, a soft smile chasing those words, “and the initial relocation will only take a few months. The time consuming part will be making sure we haven’t missed anyone.”

The transfer’s gaze slid from the data screens to his brother. “But we’ll get everyone?”

His brother’s smile grew a bit more. “There are a number of Magics that will be utilized to find anyone missed.”

“What if they don’t want to go underground, though?” came gruff from somewhere behind them. He turned enough to take in the speaker’s face.

“We’re not forcing anyone to go,” his brother spoke evenly, repeating the same thing everyone had been told in the beginning and repeated since in a level voice. “A person has the right to stay behind and be killed by the atmosphere if they so choose.”

The person scoffed but there was clear unease in their posture. He knew that all with a soul feared death above all else and would instinctively fight to survive. Only the days leading up to the sealing of the UNDERGROUNDs would prove if any of those that chose to stay behind changed their minds.

All the world’s leaders stepped forward when the world was given the green light to start relocating. Different words were spoken but all conveyed the same meaning, the same plee:

Please choose to live.

He watched the video of King Asgore’s surprisingly short speech on the matter and felt annoyance creep through his bones. There better be less than one percent of the world’s populace that doesn’t choose to go into their designated UNDERGROUND or he was going to start throwing people in them.

“We can’t force them,” his brother spoke, bringing his awareness back to the workroom. “It has to be terrifying to choose between dying and never seeing the sun again.”

He rolled his eyelight, muttering, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not for those of us that have been in them from day one but for those that have never stepped foot into any UNDERGROUND? This is asking them to give up the life they know for the unknown.”

“With their families and oftentimes friends.”

“And yet it doesn’t make it any easier.”

He fought against it, fought against the truth in his brother’s words, only to finally cave and agree.

The year Yov-Pippin had died, his brother’s action on the emotions in their soul had caused permanent damage to how they were able to perceive emotions. They had both struggled for years relearning with and without help but he never managed to regain the same connection to emotions his brother appeared to have regained.

It was well into that struggle that they discovered there was barely a hint of the other in their shared soul.

Somehow, some way, they had separated themselves in that shared soul with no way of reconnecting.

“There you are, Dr. Gaster.”

He looked up from the paperwork he was reading, taking his weight off the railing to greet the approaching King. “King Asgore,” he offered in turn. “What can I do for you?”

There was a flicker of confusion over the boss monster’s face before amusement morphed the King’s expression into something kind. “The Sealing is in a half hour. I am here to make sure that one of our strongest souls is present to assist.”

He pulled out his phone. Sure enough, the device was showing a half hour to six. “It would seem time has gotten away from me yet again. Have you already located Wing Dings?”

“Already at the site.”

“Allow me five minutes to tuck my work away and I will join you.”

They arrived at the entrance to the UNDERGROUND with fifteen minutes to spare. He caught sight of his brother and met the other’s neutral gaze. For a brief moment they held each other’s attention. He looked away first.

The event itself was small for safety reasons. There were several people there to broadcast the event live to sooth the masses but beyond that, he knew everyone present and their role in what would happen next.

He and his brother were there to make sure that if anything went wrong, there would be little to no death. After all, forcing a mountain to reform with explosives was very delicate work and one miscalculation could cause far more damage than intended.

“Charges have been set!” rang down the tunnel.

“As soon as they’re back, we’ll start the countdown, Sire,” the lead technician - Jole - informed them, though the words were directed at King Asgore.

“And you are certain you want me to press the button?” the King verified for the fifth time.

Thankfully, Jole found it all amusing and laughed goodnaturedy. “Yes, yes. It’s perfectly safe and the easiest part, honestly. Trust me, Sire. It’s mostly for the honor of pressing a button. All the world leaders will be pressing their given button in some form or fashion.”

Three technicians came walking out of the tunnel, the last one to pass through the archway giving a thumbs up. Jole looked to King Asgore, grinning. “Here we go.”

A countdown from five echoed in the silent space. At “two” a wall of layered magic formed in the archway, a barrier to keep the dust, debris, and potential toxic leakage at bay.

At “one” King Asgore pressed the button. There were two silent seconds before the rumbling started to reach them. There were no sounds from the explosions themselves that he could make out but Jole looked pleased when the chaos beyond settled.

“That should do it,” Jole announced, disconnecting the ignition lines from the button.

“We’ll give the tunnel a month as planned before checking the air quality,” Trebba, the lead atmospheric scientist, added. “If all looks good, we’ll send a team to double check the progress of the seal and see if there’s anything we have to correct or adjust. Until then, the area is cordoned off to keep any of the toxic atmosphere from getting anyone sick.”

“It won’t kill someone?” one of the broadcasters asked.

Trebba pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “It can still kill but we’re putting in a physical barrier with several layers in place of the magical one currently up to contain the worst of it. We expect there will be some minor leaking for a while since we cannot create a perfect seal - though we will be doing our best to make it as near perfect as possible - but not at lethal levels.” Her expression soured slightly. “All of this was explained as we waited for the all clear.”

His brother stepped up beside him as the bodies dispersed, most away from the tunnel now leading to nowhere. Those tasked with creating the physical barriers got to work. “And now we wait,” his brother offered quietly.

“And in the meantime, we work,” he added, though his brother knew this. Everyone in the UNDERGROUND worked in some way. Many hands made for a light load and this particular collection of the world populace was more than willing to support that ideology. He shifted his stance to face his brother despite half of his attention remaining on their surroundings. “The plan has remained the same, correct?”

His brother nodded. “There is still no new information on how long the efforts to inhabit Zone Two will take. If all goes well, it shouldn’t require my assistance for more than a few months but I have a suspicion they’ll be asking for at least one of us rather regularly over the next few years.”

The last barrier was put up and held into place as the edges were sealed against the tunnel.

“Most likely,” he agreed.
The chatter of the restaurant was soft background noise behind him as he sat at the bar. There was something in the air that almost seemed like relief despite there only being regulars in the space. No new faces had wandered into Zone Two yet but the promise of new faces arriving soon was heavy. The CORE’s completion the previous week meant that work on the infrastructure could begin in earnest and it had the entire UNDERGROUND buzzing with excitement.

Though, he supposed it would be years still before he settled into referring to it as the Underground, rather than the full string of numbers and letters that had been originally assigned to it. After all, the name had changed 130 years ago shortly after the Sealing - even each Zone. The last document he could recall referencing any Zone by its original name was 100 years old and even then it had been an oddity. The populous had latched onto the new names with such vigor, he doubted many of the long living monsters remembered the regions having different names without having to think about it. Even memories of the surface were being forgotten.

Those who were able to remember the surface - the Overworld - as clearly as they could remember the previous week were becoming extremely rare to find. The majority of the populations in the Underground were not so fortunate with long life, or long memory. There wasn’t a human alive who had been born before the Sealing; the shift from Overworld life to Underground life had shortened the human lifespan from that rough hundred year mark to half that, not quite sixty if they were lucky. It wouldn’t stay that way for much longer, though. He personally knew two humans who were approaching sixty with a spring still in their step compared to the previous generation. Those born in the Underground didn’t have the Overworld to compare it to, to weigh down on them, and he envied them that.

“Would you like another?”

He looked up to meet the gaze of the bartender - a fire elemental - who owned the pub. He offered the other a soft smile, signing in assurance, “No; thank you, though.”

The fire elemental nodded and returned to cleaning glasses not far off.

His gaze drifted to his hands resting on the counter, one of which he had just spoken with. Speaking in Hands was not unheard of but very few knew how to do it. Many that spoke in Hands would use Soulspeak in tandem to bridge the language barrier, which meant most simply used Soulspeak to communicate. While he could Soulspeak, it was innately tied with speaking in Hands, as it was for his brother. For whatever reason, neither of them could isolate how to Soulspeak without speaking in Hands.

They still had a voice - a century of speaking in Hands had saved their voice - but the damage had been too great to heal completely. They were unable to speak the common tongue for an extended amount of time before they lost their voice and were forced to speak in Hands. The only language they could speak without threatening muteness was their native tongue and the only ones that knew that language were skeleton monsters; his brother was the only other skeleton monster he had seen in the last forty years.

It was not hard to recognize it could have been a whole lot worse. The damage they had sustained could have made it so that they didn’t have a voice at all. That, more than anything, would have dampened a lot of what they had been able to accomplish in the past years.

“Wing Dings.”

It was an inquiry, soft and careful in a way that brought his awareness back to point as it always did. He offered the bartender a warmer smile. “I’m fine, Grillby. Just lost in thought.”

The fire at the top of the elemental’s head crackled and he knew Grillby didn’t believe him. “Would you like me to accompany you home, then?”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “No, no. There’s no need for you to go out of your way for me. I truly was just lost in thought.” If the fire elemental was able to raise an eyebrow, he was certain the other would have done so. The thought made the smile on his face grow. “If it would put you at ease, I’ll take a glass of water and get your opinion on my wandering thoughts.”

Grillby’s surprise was prevalent even if the elemental tried to hide it. The glass of water was before him in less than a minute, the bartender stilling across the bar from him with a curious gaze.

He hid his amused smile by taking a long drink from the glass. Even as he put it down, he let the silence hang between them simply because he could. Grillby was one of the most patient people he had ever encountered and he knew the other would not push. So, he slowly gathered his thoughts in something that counted as order letting the background noise lull him back into that pensive state. “Did you ever get to see the surface?”

The fire elemental blinked, the flame at the top of the other’s head fluttering, a show of thoughtfulness and increase of curiosity. He couldn’t help the fond smile growing. Grillby was still very expressive despite the other learning how to always maintain a calm, collected appearance. “No. I was born a few months before the Sealing, one of the first to be born at Uva Hospital.”

Uva was the name of Zone One. It meant Home. Zone Five was named Beuva - New Home. He still didn’t understand why seeing as Zones Two through Four were named Snowdin, Waterfall, and Hotland respectively, all of them in the common tongue. It was probably in some book somewhere if he truly cared to know.

Or remembered to look.

“Ah. I could not for the life of me remember how old you were. Still rather young, then?” he asked, rolling the glass on its bottom rim.

“In comparison to how long I will most likely live, yes, but I am seen as an adult by those that know the longevity of my kind.”

A faint sense of hesitation or apprehension accompanied the Soulspeak, the emotional transfer unconscious but far less oppressive than most others he often conversed with. He returned it with reassurance that he backed up with words and a gestured glass. “That is a good thing, and I can’t help but envy you that.” He offers the other a teasing smile intending to show that he thought no such thing. In fact, he was grateful that other long living races didn’t treat their younger as the skeletal race did. “The skeletal race is well known for mapping their young’s life much as humans do. Move the decimal point of our age one place to the left and you get the equivalent age in human years, growth and development nearly parallel until our prime, or so they present it, stuck being seen as a child until after our second century.”

Old knowledge, really. The number of rants he had gone on sitting at this very bar meant that Grillby - and an unfortunate number of the other staff - were very much aware of his distaste for how the skeletal race saw their own passing centuries. With skeleton numbers dropping, he had hopes that the majority - skeleton and other races alike - would adopt how the elementals and other long lived handled their aging, recognizing the years more than the supposed equivalent age. As if his point needed acknowledgement, Grillby nodded. “You yourself are approaching the end of your third, correct?”

His smile grew at that. “Yes indeed! In 30 years I will be celebrating my 300th birthday, of which I think still flabbergasts some of my human coworkers.”

“You were alive when the world was beneath the sun. For the short living, that is a time of stories, of myths and legends.”

He chuckled. “Myths and legends. Stories I understand but myths and legends? Only if they are from millennia ago. It was not that long ago.”

“Yet for many there is no longer living memory of the sun among their kind.”

The echo of his earlier thoughts was surprising but not unexpected. Grillby was of the long living, as intelligent at 130 as he and his brother had been, if not quite in the same way. He tipped his glass towards the other. “I will give you that.” He took a long pull from the glass, enjoying the cool water. Grillby refilled his glass when it settled against the bartop. He watched the other’s sure hands. “If I asked you what each region’s original name was, would you know what I was talking about?”

“The Zones, correct?”

He nodded. “Were you raised with them being called by their Zone number or the region name?”

Grillby fell silent but the fire on the top of his head crackled as the fire elemental brought his hand up to his chin. He watched the bartender ponder, taking another drink. “I know their Zone numbers,” the other finally spoke, “but whether that is from my education or from those that raised me, I cannot recall.”

A soft smile pulled across his face. “Don’t fret too much over it. I was merely curious.” He gestured to the other, offering, “That is basically the sum of my thoughts for the day; nothing overly extravagant or worrisome.”

Grillby dipped his head in acknowledgement. For a moment silence settled between them. He watched the elemental drift away to check on the other customers before returning, a question in the other’s expression. “Will you make any effort to see your brother now that the CORE is complete?”

He shrugged. “I might. I might not. There has been no need to actually see each other. We talk regularly enough over the phone.”

“Do you not miss him?”

The chuckle that escaped him was low and very amused. He picked up his glass, gesturing with it as he offered cryptically, “It is hard to miss someone who is always there.”

The number who knew about their shared soul was tiny and Grillby was not part of that number. It wasn’t that he expected the other to share the information with anyone else; more of there was simply no point in the elemental knowing.

Despite his belief on the matter, it was taken out of his hands years later.

Snowdin became a bustling hub of activity as the years went on and by the time it had been 80 years since the CORE’s completion, the outer neighborhoods were still sparsely populated. The subdivision that housed Grillby’s was one of the farthest from Snowdin proper so the population growth in the area was barely noticeable: the only newest residents was a family of bunny monsters who ran the inn and shop down the street from Grillby’s and even that had been ten years ago.

Grillby’s was as lively as ever and routine had him sitting at the bar enjoying the warm company of the space. The bartender for the evening wasn’t Grillby - the elemental was in the kitchen filling in for a call-out - but a young human male, bright with a good sense of humor. The male lived two subdivisions over, a good hour walk away just from border to border. He never bothered asking the male if the walk was longer or if the young human commuted in differently and the male never elaborated why they were working at Grillby’s instead of somewhere closer to home.

Currently the male human - Carter - was laughing at something one of the patrons was talking about, one of a small cluster listening in rapt attention to the local telling the humorous tale. He hadn’t really been listening to it, preoccupied with simply existing in the pleasant space as he finished off his glass. Carter was there before he could summon the young human, a fresh glass already in hand that quickly replaced the one he had emptied. He smiled at the male, offering, “Grillby has you well trained.”

Carter laughed, though the sound seemed fuller than moments ago despite being quieter. “He does indeed. Makes for good tips if I can stay on top of the drinks, too,” the young human bantered right back.

He gestured with his glass, his smile growing larger. “And that is the undeniable truth.”

Carter beamed at him in reply as the young human dragged a quick cloth over the counter, drifting back to the cluster. The ease of the space wrapped back around him, swallowing him as he slowly nursed the second glass. The human walked over empty handed as the last of the drink slid into his mouth. He very rarely drank more than two glasses and being a predictable creature of habit, it was no surprise Grillby’s staff had picked up on it.

“Can I get you anything for the road?” Carter offered as he stood.

He tugged his coat from the back of his chair, shaking his head. “I should be-”

A strange sensation shot through his form focused mostly in his skull and limbs that stole strength and equilibrium from his body. His vision quickly faded into barely discernible patches of hazy color - or was it light - amid darkness. He blindly reached out for the bar top before his legs properly gave out from under him, no longer able to tell if he was even upright or not. The cold counter pressed against his chest, a dull pain informing him he had misjudged the distance and slammed into the bar top. Confusion swam through his mind as he waited for his vision to come back and strength to return. He didn’t know what else to do; he didn’t even know what was happening to him.

He barely had time to register that Carter was talking to him, trying to get him to respond, before pain erupted across the left side of his face. A cry must have left his chest at the sudden agony but he hadn’t heard it as he pressed his hand to his face. What little vision he still had left was swallowed by the darkness. There was an aggressive pull on their magic that he was certain he moved with but he had no way of knowing for sure.

Something snapped somewhere in the depths of their shared soul. A pain he had never experienced before overwhelmed him.

He was cut off from their magic.

Agony was the only thing he knew for what had to be an eternity. Slowly, unbearably slowly, noises started drifting in among the roaring in his skull; when he realized they were voices, it was an abrupt shift of awareness beyond the roaring in his skull and agony in his form. He was on the brink of being hyperaware of how he laid on the hard floor of Grillby’s, of the sensation of foreign magic burning its way through his form in a desperate attempt to keep him together, of the inflections in the three- no, four different voices trying to talk over one another above him.

One of the voices he knew as well as he knew his own.

“Grillby,” he spoke, the name coming out in a garbled mess that radiated pain from his throat. Had he been screaming? It certainly felt like it.

A warm, familiar hand pressed against the top of his skull above his right temple, the fire elemental’s magical presence in the gesture telling him that the other was trying to help heal him along with the other two. He flinched from the pain both touch and magic brought but Grillby kept his hand in place. “I’m here,” Grillby assured him. “The medics are trying to stabilize you before attempting to transport you to the hospital.”

“M’brother.” It came out just as garbled and the pain in his throat worsened. He was risking being unable to verbalize anything ever again pushing it like this but he knew that he would be unable to speak in Hands to Soulspeak. The pain at the thought alone - of moving in any way - was enough to steal what little strength he even had left.

There was a stutter in the magic coming from Grillby but the meaning behind it was lost to him. He wasn’t sure if that was because his thoughts were simply too sluggish to make any sense of it or if it was because Grillby had tried stifling the emotional transfer.

As the seconds of silence from the other stretched on, ice slowly creeped out of his soul down his bones, doing nothing for the pain. The only assurance he had that his brother wasn’t dead was his own coherency. Surely if his brother had died, their shared soul would have shattered taking him with.

“Grillby,” he tried demanding. It sounded like a plea.

The other flinched. He couldn’t see the other, couldn’t see much of anything beyond the vague blurs of what could have been color or light among the darkness still obscuring his vision, but he felt it, felt the brief gust of cold against his back, the minute shift of Grillby’s hand on his head, the flicker in the magic seeping into his bones.

“I…” the other started but the words stalled out. He nearly passed out from the burst of distress and uncertainty that scattered through the Soulspeak from the single word. The emotions were quickly quelled and what the elemental said next was steady and controlled. “There was an explosion at the CORE. It is assumed that Wing Decos was at the CORE at the time, potentially at the epicenter of the event.” Vaguely he was aware of the thought that he should feel something at that statement, that there should be worry or concern or even fear, but all he felt was a hollow numbness. “A rescue team is currently attempting to clear out debris to find and pull out the survivors. So far they have not found any dead and the hope is the count stays that way.”

If there were no losses, it would be a miracle.

“He’s as stable as we’re going to get him,” one of the unnamed voices cut in.

The other unnamed voice responded. “Then prep him for transport. We need you two to move back.”

Grillby’s hand slipped from his skull as the heat from the elemental left his back. He started shivering; or maybe the shivering simply got worse, drawing his attention to it now that he didn’t have a distraction. Hands he didn’t know moved his body and it was all he could do to keep from crying out in pain as agony flared through his form.

His awareness failed to stay present. He knew he had been moved onto a stretcher, could vaguely recall the sensation of something flat against his back that his body moved with, and he could vaguely recall the impression of the light changing and the sound of the transport, but the details, the important bits of information, were lost to him.

It wasn’t until he was in the hospital that he woke up, a lethargic thing that took far more effort than it should. Noises assaulted him from all sides, some louder than others. His vision was hazy but he could at least make out the room and vague shapes of what was in it. There was an odd dark patch in his vision that itched with a familiarity he couldn’t pinpoint in his sluggish thoughts.

Bodies moved around him leaving hazy impressions of who was there that he wouldn’t remember later. One of those bodies stopped at his right shoulder, their hand closing around his shoulder. “Wing Dings Gaster?”

He tried to confirm, to respond, but nothing came out of his throat. He tried to nod but he didn't even know if he managed that as his head swam. What last grip he had on consciousness slipped away and he passed out.

It was quiet when he opened his sockets again. Or, at least tried to open his sockets. His left remained closed underneath a foreign pressure against it. The vision in his right socket was much clearer. Nothing had a crisp edge but at least the fussiness was more of a soft glow around everything. A careful glance around the room informed him that he was alone in the room and that moving - at least slowly - didn’t cause him pain.

The mounds of blankets he was under and the IV spoke volumes to the state of his magic. What state was his brother in?

Before he could focus on their soul, the volume of voices beyond his door grew noticeably louder. The door opened, breaking the muffled barrier that had obscured the words being spoken.

“-in a few minutes.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Surprise flittered through him as he looked towards the door. The first voice he didn’t recognize - probably a nurse or some other hospital worker - but the second was not Grillby’s as he had expected.

King Asgore met his gaze as the large monster stepped up to the edge of his bed. The door clicked shut, bringing the room back to some semblance of silence.

Pain flared from his throat and chest as he tried to break the silence with a greeting. It sent him into a horrible coughing fit so strong his body convulsed with each cough that sent excruciating pain rolling through every bone. By the time the coughing fit had subsided, others had filled the room. Blearily he registered his upright position leaning against something firm but warm aching all over. The worst of it was in his chest and throat.

Someone was holding a glass of water in front of his face. If words were being said, he couldn’t hear them. Instead, he reached a trembling hand up but he couldn't reach the glass. It seemed to be enough. The person holding it brought it to his mouth for him and he greedily swallowed down the cool liquid. It soothed the raw edges of the pain in his throat; he wished it would sooth more.

“Wing Dings?”

His name was oddly relieving to hear. Sagging more into the person supporting him, he looked towards the speaker. Grillby was standing at the side of the person supporting him. Worry was full on the fire elemental’s face; even the fire at the top of his head was flickering with it. “Are you able to speak in Hands?”

“He shouldn’t be speaking in any sort of manner,” someone off to his right countered sharply. He hadn’t even bothered to take in everyone that had surrounded his bed and he felt no inclination to do so now. “Using magic would be detrimental to him and his soul.”

It had been in his favor that he hadn’t looked at the one speaking for it left him with a perfect view of Grillby turning a withering glare onto the person, fire crackling dangerously as the color seemed to fade. “I am aware. Hands is not a magic based way of communicating.”

He stopped listening when the person started arguing with Grillby. It wouldn’t go very far; if Grillby didn’t verbally rip the person a new one, then the person’s colleagues would. If they knew anything about Hands. Instead, he turned his focus onto the hand resting in his lap still trembling. It would be stuttered speech and a lot of the signs would come out wrong but that was all reliant on whether or not he had any more strength to raise his hand out of his lap.

A large, fluffy white hand gingerly wrapped around his elbow and easily manipulated the joint to raise his wrist from his lap. There was something very familiar about the hand but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. “That won’t work well,” he informed his assistor, though he wasn’t sure the last bit of it was understandable.

The chest beneath his head rumbled with a chuckle. “I am a touch rusty in my understanding of Hands. Grillby, was it?” He watched the elemental look to the person supporting him. “Am I correct in assuming you are more practiced in the language than I am?”

Grillby’s fire calmed, returning to its proper color. “I am fluent, Your Majesty,” Grillby informed the person, speaking in Hands to showcase the fact even as Soulspeak carried the meaning.

Something nonverbal passed over his head before Grillby turned to him. He didn’t give the elemental a chance to speak as he tried to articulate, “The King holding my elbow is only going to hinder me.” He was annoyed when it came out as, “Elbow not help,” around the garbled gestures. While Soulspeak for him and his brother was inseparable from Hands, they could speak in Hands without Soulspeak; an infuriating fact had it not been for the predicament he was currently in. Whoever had spoken earlier had not been wrong. Using magic now would be dangerous if simply speaking had caused his body to react so violently and Soulspeak was innately magical and from the soul itself. Without knowing the extent of the damage to their soul, even he was not willing to risk damaging it even more.

Grillby frowned and he suspected even that wouldn't be understandable. Before he could raise his hand to try again, Grillby looked to the King. “Your attempt to help him speak in Hands is appreciated but it will only make it more difficult. There are many more motions than simple wrist movements.”

King Asgore lowered his arm back to his lap, asking, “Would it be better if it was propped on a pillow or blanket? If we can minimize the amount of effort he has to exert to speak, we should.”

There was no hint of embarrassment or the like in the King’s voice and he wondered if that was a front or the truth. He raised a hand only to have his entire arm shake with the effort. “Pillow,” was horribly messy even after the second attempt. Fortunately Grillby understood.

“That would work.”

He expected them to just tuck a pillow under either arm. Instead, the whole thing became an ordeal as the hospital staff raised a portion of the bed so that he was sitting upright propped up by the bed and a few pillows instead of slumped against the King. The change in position gave him a clear view of those assembled in the room and the only faces he recognized were Grillby and King Asgore. To his surprise, Carter was standing near the door with two others who looked familiar; they were either regulars at Grillby’s or some of the fire elemental’s staff he hadn’t gotten acquainted with.

“Now that he’s settled, let’s actually talk about why we’re here.”

He turned his gaze to the speaker, the same doctor that had spoken up against him speaking in Hands. The speaker was a human male that was looking down his nose at him. He returned the look with a flat one of his own, not caring that the male clearly disliked him for whatever reason.

“You’re fortunate you didn’t suffer anything more severe, Mr. Gaster,” the doctor informed him flatly. “Despite a few new cracks in your soul, the only thing of note is the magical exhaustion.” Outrage was quick to fill the room without sound, pressing in on everyone present as if it were an actual substance. It confused him, leaving him wondering at what context he was missing. The doctor didn’t seem to notice, dismissing him and the shift in energy as if both were nothing more than an annoying insect. “If you are able to refrain from utilizing any magic, you will be able to leave by tomorrow evening.”

“Dr. Jenkins,” King Asgore started but one of the other medical personnel stepped in.

The medical personnel physically placed themself between him and the now named Dr. Jenkins, their back to him. “I believe you have another soul to attend to, Dr. Jenkins,” the interrupter spoke evenly, their words careful, gentle even. “I can take over in your stead.”

Dr. Jenkins sniffed before stepping out, tailed by one of the other medical personnel. The new speaker looked to him after the door clicked shut. Their expression held nothing for him to read. “I am Dr. Willik, Dr. Jenkins’s partner in stabilizing your form. Despite the briskness of Dr. Jenkins’s words, he did succinctly summarize your current state, though your release is contingent on your magic circulating and your strength returning.” Their expression tightened at the edges. “There has been some damage to your form but nothing life threatening nor hindering any of your normal functions.” They tapped under their left eye and the faint memory of pain drifted across his awareness. “There is a crack on this side of your face, from socket to mouth. From what we can tell, it hasn’t affected your sight nor the movement of your mouth. However, your ability to vocalize is a different matter. As with your last brush with death, speech has become an impossibility at this time, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Had the soft smile not accompanied the latter words, it would have come across as a slight rather than the apologetic fact that they were presenting it as. “We’re moderately optimistic that you’ll recover as you had the previous time with little to no effect on your ability to speak. While we are optimistic, it is best to keep that in mind that it is just as likely that you will never be able to speak in anything beyond Hands and Soulspeak as well.”

The doctor’s stance straightened minutely, a more professional air falling about their shoulder. “As for an update on your other half: your brother’s form is surprisingly undamaged beyond a few minor abrasions, a couple of burns, and the crack you two share. He was still unconscious when I checked in on him thirty minutes ago and we are not expecting him to wake for another few hours at least.” The words stalled briefly as the doctor frowned. “From what I gathered, he is incredibly lucky to even be whole, let alone alive. The stories of what he had been pulled from did not paint a pretty picture. Once you are able to move about, you are free to see him whenever you like but my suggestion is that it waits until tomorrow. You both need as much rest as you can get.”

He was not inclined to disagree.

The doctor placed a hand on the covers. “And please don’t take Dr. Jenkins’s attitude personally. His brother was one of the personnel who had been missing after the explosion at the CORE and he just found out his brother’s condition before we stepped in. While not professional on his part, no one is handling this well.”

The doctor and the other medical personnel excused themselves and exited the room. Grillby’s staff followed after them. King Asgore tugged at a few of his pillows almost absentmindedly and yet he found himself settling more comfortably into the bed because of it.

“What happened?” he asked. His hands felt like lead.

Grillby frowned, clarifying, “At the CORE?”

He nodded. “And to my brother.”

“Ah.” King Asgore looked very uncomfortable when the question was directed to the larger monster. The King’s eyes settled on him, the hesitation apparent. “Are you sure you would not prefer to hear it once you have rested some more?”

“I am sure.”

The hospital was quiet in the early hours of the morning. Or, more the ward was. He could see the flickering of emergency lights playing off the side of the building through the slits in the blinds. The majority of the ward was asleep, a state of being he wished he could be in, but the edge of their shared soul was buzzing with his brother’s awareness and it was making it very difficult to sleep.

It did not help that the cold had seeped into every bone despite the numerous heated blankets they had piled upon his person after they had stabilized his form. It made everything ache in a way that made sleeping difficult.

His brother’s presence in their soul rapidly increased as the other opened his right socket. There was no eyelight but he knew his brother could see. He could feel it.

“36 dead.” Their native tongue resonated oddly in the room, a strangely hollow sound that had nothing to do with the damage to their voice and everything to do with his own exhaustion with everything. He pulled in a breath in an attempt to gain a little more strength. “36 dead with you being the only survivor from the epicenter. Depending on who you ask, you are either extremely powerful or unfairly lucky.”

His brother’s gaze finally settled on him but there were no emotions for him to see. The bitter echo of regret that skittered down his spine was quickly followed by annoyance; he hated the reminder of the damage he had caused shutting down their emotions so absolutely all those years ago.

“According to the initial reports, there are no clear signs as to what had caused the explosion at the CORE. While a more thorough investigation is currently underway, many are holding out hope you will know what had gone wrong.”

There was a pause as he felt his brother’s attention shift. “Something failed but whether that was on our part or the machinery, I cannot recall. The majority of the specifics are lost to me.” His brother’s attention returned to him. “I was the only survivor?”

He frowned. They had spent nearly a century apart but he knew his brother - could always pick up the nuances of his brother’s intent in speech alone - but there was nothing in that single inquiry and the soul they shared was vacant beyond his brother’s presence. “At the epicenter, yes.”

His brother hummed and returned the half lidded gaze to the ceiling. “Unfortunate. That will set us back.”

Electricity prickled his bones as a frown pulled at his face. “Decos,” he started but he had no idea what he intended to ask.

His brother looked at him anyway. “There are only so many that are knowledgeable about the CORE to the level the higher clearances require. I had done what I could to mitigate the worst of the damage but even I knew going in I would be unable to prevent all of it and it will be years before the repairs are complete.” For the first time since his brother woke up, emotion pulled at his brother’s face; annoyance pulled at his brother’s face. “They knew the risk of following. I had informed them that I could contain the failure on my own without their assistance but it had been their choice to accompany me. A tragedy they brought upon themselves.”

There was some truth in that. He had witnessed it himself a few times the lack of self preservation that portions of the population exhibited. Granted, sometimes a lack of self preservation was needed to run into a burning building to help others out but even then there was a line of safety that firefighters didn’t cross. He could see his brother’s logic, could understand where his brother was coming from, and yet he mentally balked at the unspoken intent behind those words. “A life lost should not be taken so lightly,” he found himself countering, trying to gain some semblance of empathy from the other. “They were your colleagues.”

“They are replaceable,” his brother countered with no inflections. It was fact and even he knew it. “There will be another in their place within a month.”

Had he been any other person - had he been having this conversation with anyone else - he might have jumped to his feet yelling in outrage at the implications, but this was his brother, the other of their shared soul, and he had known that the articulation of this attitude was long overdue. There would be no swaying his brother from the path he had chosen. He had tried, stars how he had tried, for the past century to no avail and this would be no different. Still, he found himself trying one last time. “Life is precious.”

“Life is fleeting - even our own. What does it matter when it ends when life always ends? They knew what they were getting into working at the CORE and more so for those that had followed me into danger knowing that there was the chance I could not protect them as well. At least they were of use for the few short years they existed. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
The corridor was annoyingly crowded. The drone of voices filled his skull incessantly and it was slowly grating on his already short nerves. It would only be a matter of time before he started finding some… unconventional ways of silencing the noise. Vague impressions of his own times in college drifted at the edge of his consciousness and he turned his attention to the lack of tangible memories as if it would be enough to ease his growing annoyance.

To no surprise, it was rather ineffective and he glanced at the nearest clock for the third time. If his brother was going to take so long, he would have waited elsewhere instead of the herd of a busy corridor.

“Professor!” It wasn’t the first time he had heard the call and he ignored it just as he had all the others. Well, tried to. “Professor Gaster!”

His name drew him like a flame did a moth; he found his gaze falling onto a small rabbit monster that came skidding to a stop at his side, a stranger that seemed far too eager to get his attention. But, then, the monster hadn’t wanted his attention, now, had it? The monster only became smaller when those tall ears fell back and hung down the length of the monster’s back. It pressed a folder to its chest, large eyes belaying its sudden confusion and fear.

The severe expression on his face stayed unchanged, one that many had told him made him look constantly pissed and rather intimidating - if it kept others from badgering him, all the better.

He suppressed the urge to sneer at the rabbit monster. Fear. It was disgusting how quick monsters and humans alike were to fear. Be it change or the unknown, neither group of sentients handled either well.

“Ah, Cesele.” His own voice reached out towards himself, yet he had not spoken and he certainly did not know anyone in the corridor. He turned a flat look onto the speaker letting his displeasure show. His brother met his gaze briefly before focusing on the rabbit monster now between them. His brother’s hands came up with an encouraging smile, continuing on in Hands and Soulspeak. “What can I do for you?”

The rabbit monster glanced at him again, shrinking away. “I, uh,” was stammered out but nothing useful was given. He met the monster’s gaze, watching as it cowered even more.

“Is that your project?” his brother asked, gesturing to the folder pinned to the small monster’s chest. The small monster nodded. His brother smiled. “Fantastic. And right on time.” The small monster didn’t hand over the folder until his brother had nearly taken it. “I will get this graded and back to you with everyone else's. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a previous engagement to get to. I will see you in class.”

The rabbit monster gave him one last, fearful glance, before taking off down the corridor.

“I believe we had come to an agreement about speaking the shared tongue.”

His brother’s expression was fond as the other started digging into a pocket. They gained many sidelong glances from those passing. He didn’t spare any of them a look. “We had,” his brother ceded. “But one moment of a few words is not going to take away our voice.”

He could feel the scratching in his own throat. Had there been the normal distance between them, he would have never known his brother was ignoring their agreement until it was too late. They had not healed like last time and they were both hyper aware that they never would.

The lock on the office door gave with a click and his brother entered. He followed after. “You were late.”

“I had a few students who needed my attention after class.” His brother shrugged. “It had only been a few moments.”

His look darkened. “A few moments. Have you forgotten we are on a tight schedule today?”

A sharp rapping came from the doorframe. He turned finding a human in the doorway, hand still raised from knocking. “Dr. Gaster,” the human spoke, revealing that this human wasn’t another student, let alone a simple civilian. “I am here to take you to Uva upon King Asgore’s command. This is an urgent request from His Majesty. It is best for us to leave now.”

“Urgent request?” his brother parroted, curiosity coloring the words.

He raised his hands, letting his brother’s musings go unanswered. “We shall follow you,” he responded, his gestures precise in the air before him.

The human gestured into the busy corridor.

“Wonder why he changed our meeting,” his brother spoke once they had stepped outside the building.

The human’s brisk pace was leading them to the nearest road access. “Speculating will do us no good. Best wait and find out once we arrive.”

“Ah, good. Wing Dings, Wing Decos,” King Asgore greeted as they approached the small gathering 20 minutes later. “I am glad to see you both have made it here with no trouble.”

“Is something wrong, my King?” his brother inquired with a confused little smile pulling at his expression, hands fluid, almost like an afterthought.

“I am afraid so. Come. The remainder of those I have summoned will not be here for another half hour but this cannot wait.”

He shared a glance with his brother as the King turned away. Whatever this was, it was serious.

They followed King Asgore through to the outer edge of Uva. The farther along they went, the greater his suspicion became that their destination was somewhere near the sealed entrance of the Underground.

It wasn’t just near the entrance - it was the entrance. The tunnel that led to the seal was barricaded and not a single person going beyond the barricade was without a respirator and full body suit. “There is a leak, then,” he surmised.

“It is not that simple,” King Asgore corrected.

Both he and his brother turned a disbelieving, concerned look to the King and found a monster there with the weight of the entire Underground resting on his shoulders.

“This is something beyond repairing the seal,” he challenged.

King Asgore gestured towards the barricade. “As far as they have discerned so far. I have people working on evacuation plans for Uva. Currently the goal is to discover how large of a problem we have ahead of us before we do anything drastic.”

His brother took a step forward. “The toxic atmosphere was potent, Asgore. I doubt a few hundred years changed that. Even if the leak isn’t severe and we are able to contain most of it, relocating Uva now may save us having to force everyone to evacuate without their belongings or salvaging what we can. Acting now may save lives.”

King Asgore’s expression fell. “I remember, Wing Dings. I will look into the evacuation preparations and move it along but I will hold off on calling for a full evacuation until we know for certain.”

His brother ceded.

The King showed them where to suit up before leaving. He tracked the boss monster long enough to see the King speak with another personnel. His brother drew his attention away from the interaction by pressing something into his arm.

“Here.”

He looked at whatever his brother was offering him and gave the other a flat look when he recognized what it was. “You are aware we do not breathe, correct? Or has your time teaching caused you to forget?”

“The more at ease they are, the easier this will be for us,” his brother pointed out. “Besides, it would be better to be safe than sorry. While you may not feign breathing, one careless pull of air could be enough to keep us from ever working again.”

Careless. He snatched the respirator from his brother’s hand with a glare. He was never careless. Every action was precise and calculated and his brother knew that. Still, his brother did have a point about the ease of playing along. The fewer delays they had to deal with, the better.

The respirator was heavy on his face. When he caught his brother’s gaze over those helping them into the full body suits, he gave the other a very flat, very annoyed look that his brother simply smiled at. Just because his brother’s argument had been sound didn’t mean his patience with the stupidity of it all was going to stretch farther than it normally did.

King Asgore’s comment about a leak had dredged up the idea of the clouds the sirens had blared for, a fog of toxin that drifted around but hadn’t fully saturated the air yet; instead, they passed through a newly constructed airlock into a tunnel thick with the toxic atmosphere. Visibility dropped to barely ten feet ahead of them if they were lucky. Memories of their earlier years slammed into him, of an Overworld he hadn’t thought about in years. His brother staggered steps at his side was tell enough for him to know his brother had been reminded of the same thing.

He wasn’t sure if the pulse of magic had been driven by his or his brother’s desire to see.

“Stars above,” his brother hissed, footfall falling brisk against the floor as they both recentered with the use of magic. They could feel the walls on either side, were certain of where the floor was, and they took the lead much to the apprehension of those that had passed through the airlock with them.

They passed the five minute walk with only their footfall filling the silence between them. The roll of voices drifted at the edge of either of their hearing but the haze and the suits muffled the sounds.

The passageway turned and the sound of voices grew. A check and numerous souls lit up around them. Years of honing their control guaranteed that no one present would have been able to detect it outright; there were a few that grew apprehensive to some degree but none outright reacted.

The toxin was far denser in the space they knew ended a few yards ahead.

“Excellent!” a muffled voice shouted. “More personnel! Please, come closer, come closer. You’ve still got a good few feet before you run into anything.”

“Dr. Talbit, sir, is it such a good idea to meet in the thick of this?” one of the people behind him asked. “Isn’t this stuff supposed to be deadly?”

“No supposed to about it, Jack,” the muffled voice returned, a person finally coming into view as they finished approaching. The muffled voice belonged to a stout human with salt and pepper facial hair visible in their full face respirator. “We’ve had three deaths already from this stuff; the most recent one barely had any exposure to it.” The stout human turned beady eyes onto him and his brother. “You two must be the Dr. Gaster King Asgore mentioned. He said you two would remember the Overworld and this stuff.”

“To a point,” he clarified, the Soulspeak naturally going to those within hearing range even if they couldn't see his Hands.

His brother added, “We were alive for the tail end of the Overworld Years, yes, but we were also young and busy working on the UNDERGROUND Initiative. What we remember of the atmosphere itself is probably no more extensive than what you already know.”

The stout human nodded. “Long living memory, no matter how faint, is always welcomed. So!” The human clapped their hands together. “Let’s get to work, people, and see if we can’t get answers for our King and the people!”

It was an hour after the last of the summoned personnel arrived that they found something truly damning. The seal was certainly showing signs of degrading but what holes were in the seal didn't match the volume currently in the tunnel. One of the last to arrive was a geologist - one that even he acknowledged was exceptional in the field - and they were the one to find the crack in the ceiling. To everyone’s horror, the fissure went beyond the airlock. It was quickly determined that nothing was coming out of the fissure beyond the airlock towards the whole of the Underground but the fear didn’t died.

He and his brother took the geologist and two other scientists along the ceiling of Uva on a set of skull constructs, tracing and marking the fissure until its end halfway down the other side.

“This is bad,” the geologist muttered, marking the end point with a large X in the orange paint. “If we don’t evacuate now and seal this entire area off, we risk losing the entire Underground.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do, Lyre?” one of the other scientists asked as his brother drifted over with the other two scientists.

The geologist shook their head. “I wish there was but this is far worse than it looks. All it would take is one good quake and the ceiling would either collapse or separate enough to let more toxic air in. Our best option is to evacuate Uva and seal it off completely. The only saving grace in this is the fact that it’s cutting across Uva, rather than towards Snowdin.”

“We can’t just bury this,” the scientist challenged. “Look at where that’s gotten us now!”

“Beth,” the remaining scientist spoke, their voice soft, coaxing, as they touched the first scientist’s arm. “It’s ok. It’ll be ok.” The first scientist shook off the touch but with nowhere to go, the first scientist wrapped their arms around their torso and turned their back to the second. To the second scientist’s credit, they didn’t look put out by the reaction. “For now, let’s return to the others and inform them of what we’ve found and our suggested course of action. At minimum, Uva has to be evacuated.” The second scientist looked to the first. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll find a way to keep this part of the Underground open.” They turned their gaze back to the rest of the small group. “Until then, though, we will support your findings. If you truly believe this runs a risk for not just this area but the entirety of the Underground, then I’m behind full evacuation and sealing.”

The geologist sighed heavily. “I truly hope we find a different solution, too.”

The evacuation of Uva went through to the end of the following week. Uva was a mad house of activity but the rest of the Underground stepped up where he doubted it would. Humans and monsters alike came forward to help pack and relocate entire households' belongings into temporary homes across the remaining four zones. The majority were slated to settle in Beuva but a surprisingly large number chose to settle in Snowdin, much to the zone’s delight.

Once half of the residents were evacuated, crews started to prep the zone for sealing, which meant the zone getting stripped of anything that could be reused elsewhere. By the time the evacuation had concluded, half of Uva was nothing more than barren cave with turned soil where houses and roads used to be. As time went on, personnel working the stripping project and the sealing project commented how unnerving it was to walk the empty streets among the abandoned buildings, even if they were slated for deconstruction.

“Quite the turnout, huh?” some random human commented as the crowd waited before the remaining tunnel that led to Uva. It had been the main thoroughfare, which made it the largest tunnel out of the four access points. The stage sitting some ways before it wasn’t huge but it seemed tiny resting at the foot of the massive archway bookended by the massive stone doors sitting open. There were a few stragglers making their way back through the tunnel towards Snowdin and the waiting crowd.

“That should be the last of them,” his brother informed him, joining him in the crowd without fanfare.

“Then that means the ceremony should be starting soon.”

His brother nodded. “In theory. Barring any other complications.”

“Did you find anyone who was not supposed to be in there?”

“Thankfully no. Two years is apparently long enough for the short living to lose interest in exploring.”

Not that there was anything to explore. Beyond barren ground, the only things remaining of Uva were the phantom impressions of roads and homes, as well as whatever paths the personnel had marched out over those two years. “If we are lucky, this will be the only zone we lose.”

A hush settled over the surrounding crowd when King Asgore and a number of other important figures stepped up onto the stage. He didn’t care to pay any attention to their words. Instead he focused on the double doors as they started to close. There were countless barriers between Uva and Snowdin that had been installed to keep any more leaks of atmosphere from happening. The doors themselves were more symbolic than actually being required - not that several feet thick slabs of stone hurt. What seemed to be the main speech ended just as the doors shuddered closed behind the stage. There was the rolling sound of shifting stone and the glow of heated earth in the door seams before silence chanced across the masses.

As the heated earth cooled, the only indication there had ever been a passageway was the set of carvings that had decorated the door faces. The very air seemed to press down on the crowd as the silence thickened; even the speakers seemed to hesitate.

Just how small would their world get before they made it back to the Overworld?

Smoke. It was the first thing he became aware of as he came to. It was acrid with burning chemicals and burned his sockets, his nasal cavity, even his mouth, as he brought himself back to awareness quickly. There was no sluggishness to his thoughts like he half expected, no temporary lack of memory of what had just happened. He opened his sockets and took in a fuzzy view of the lab from the floor; he wasn’t about to waste magic to sharpen his vision when what he saw was clear enough. What half of the lab he could see was disheveled - paper and glass was scattered everywhere - but there was no actual damage to the space.

He knew that wasn’t the same for what lay out of sight.

The glass was grit between the palms of his hands and the floor, the sensation of it grinding against bone and floor sending a shudder up his arms and down his spine. It was a nuisance at best and certainly didn’t stop him from getting to his feet.

The lack of balance would if he wasn’t careful. He grabbed at the table momentarily forgetting what had originally been on it and felt the heat of a flame against the bare bones of his hand and through the sleeve of his lab coat. He looked over as the darkness that had encroached on his vision faded, watching the off colored flames dance happily fueled by the chemicals still burning. His gaze focused beyond the flickering flames to the other half of the lab when he took a step back.

It was completely destroyed.

It looked like someone had set off a bomb on that side of the room. If it wasn’t metal or glass, it no longer existed. What metal and glass remained was melted to some degree if not bent or shattered from the force that had caused the mess. There was no evidence to what had caused the explosion. Not even the fire nearest him nor the other two burning on the damaged side of the room gave any information beyond abnormal fuel for the flames closest to him.

Spent magic didn’t leave evidence.

His brother was still unconscious at his feet by the time he managed to make it over to where his brother had been thrown. Now moving, bones that ached from the force of the explosion were complaining loudly, stilting his movement to an annoyingly slow pace. It didn’t stop him from getting down on one knee and rolling his brother towards him. The amount of effort it took to roll his brother over, though, was mildly concerning.

The lab coat his brother wore was smoke stained and dirty but there were no signs of actual flames touching the fabric, nor any cuts from shrapnel or constructs. He didn’t feel any aches in his bones after moving his brother that weren’t from his own bruising which ruled out fractures. The fact that his brother was still unconscious, though, was increasing his concern for his twin.

He shook his brother’s shoulder. “Dings.” He choked on his brother’s name, coughing as it agitated what of the smoke had settled in his body. For the third frustrating time in their life his throat burned in a very telling way and speaking their native tongue was not going to help. “Wing Dings,” he said again, letting his brother’s name be a hoarse croak that hurt. “Wake up, Dings.”

Nothing.

All he gained was another coughing fit and an increase in frustration. He staggered back to his feet and nearly fell flat on his face when the world moved more than it was supposed to around him. The counter bit into his ribs as the pinpricks rushing from the base of his spine down his legs banished the strength from his lower extremities. Their magic was too low for him to do anything about it leaving him to wait it out. The fatigue was short lived and he pushed himself back onto his own legs as it started to fade. His strength was far slower to return but his legs stayed underneath him and that was all that mattered.

The tap ran clear when he turned it on; it was cold against his face as he drank from the stream of water. The cold water soothed some of the aching in his throat and in his chest. It should be enough for him to speak louder. He rinsed his face of the remaining lingers of smoke before he turned the tap back off.

There was a muffled sound off to his right. Frowning, he looked over and flinched back from the light that filled his vision. Blinking back spots, he tried to look past the hand he had raised out of reflex but only saw faint shadows in the light.

The muffled sound repeated, though this time it was longer. The light vanished and he lowered his hand. His vision was still light burned when a figure approached him, careful hands wrapping around his shoulders. It took a few seconds of blinking to get the light burns to fade enough to make out the person’s face.

King Asgore’s face was marred with concern but there was relief at the edges of the boss monster’s expression.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, unsure if it was concern or annoyance that he felt towards the King. The burning in his throat was far less than when he had first spoken his brother’s name. Before the larger monster could tell him that what he had said was unintelligible, he raised his hands and rephrased in Hands, “Your Majesty, you should not be down here. Let the trained rescuers actually do what they were trained to do.”

King Asgore shook his head but whatever the King said, he didn’t hear the words. It was like there was a box of glass around his head with walls five inches thick. It muffled the King’s voice and any other sounds that had to exist in the room. Had he the magic for it, he would have rolled his eyelights.

“You will have to use Soulspeak, Your Majesty. The explosion has temporarily robbed me of my hearing.” In theory. The look of worry that flashed across the King’s face, however, informed him quite well that King Asgore had not taken that news all too well. With a hard look, he cut into whatever the King was starting to say. “Your Majesty, I am alive and undamaged. My hearing is not reliant on something that can get irreversibly damaged. It will come back; it will only take some time.”

In theory, the King didn’t need to know that.

Hours later he found himself wishing his theory hadn’t been proven correct. A ringing had settled in his skull after the muffling had subsided but it was too faint to be anything more than a headache. What made it worse was the fact that any noise that was soft, quiet, and of a deeper tone seemed to only amplify the ringing which, in turn, amplified the headache he had pounding at the front of his skull. His only saving grace was the fact that his brother’s hospital room was dark and secluded. No one had stopped by in the last two hours and he was relishing the peace for what few moments longer it lasted.

The door latch gave and he looked over at the curtain blocking the door from view. Light spilled across the curtain stretching out before folding back in and extinguishing with the door closing. There had been several shadows so he wasn’t overly surprised to see two people step out from behind the curtain a moment later.

“Wing Decos Gaster, I presume.” He nodded towards who he was assuming to be the doctor by outfit alone. “I am Dr. Jeremia Halben, one of the doctors who looked your brother over upon arrival. Has he woken up yet?”

He shook his head and ignored the subsequent flare from his headache.

“Well, until he wakes, the only thing that we can inform you is that he appears to be whole and sound. There was a little bit of smoke damage - nothing worse than what you yourself sustained - and that’s been cleared out just fine. Once he wakes and we’re able to chat with him, we’ll be ready to let you both return to your lives. Any questions?” He shook his head again. “Perfect. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask; Harris here will be your nurse for the next few hours so you can ask for him directly if you need to.”

When Harris was replaced by the next crew, they tried getting him to rest. The flat look he had sent each person who tried seemed to work well enough because he never had to resort to Soulspeak. He was too agitated for sleep and the ringing in his skull certainly wouldn’t let him sleep even if he had wanted to.

He knew something was wrong well before the doctors did but the specifics came from the doctors.

“The concerns for his mental state had been minimal, solely contingent mostly on his waking,” Dr. Halben said six days later. “Over the last three days, it has become apparent that there is some memory loss, but whether or not it’s permanent has yet to be determined. Now, the signs of cognitive issues, though. Those are starting to be a bit more prevalent and it will take some time more before we know the full scope of what cognition setbacks he has suffered, along with whether or not he can overcome them.”

The ringing in his skull finally made sense.

In the beginning when it never stopped, he had believed there had been something wrong with him despite the doctors assuring him there was not. Now, though, he knew that the ringing wasn’t from something he was suffering. Focusing on the ringing only filled his skull with noise but when he half paid attention to it, it almost sounded like jumbled thoughts. Somehow, someway, the cognitive injuries his brother had sustained were showing up in his own skull as a sort of ringing. At least it meant that it would go away once the doctors healed his brother.

They were supposed to heal his brother.

It had been a very long time since he had been overwhelmed by emotions. Usually there was a sort of muted sense to them whenever they swelled within his chest. What boiled out of him and burned out of his control had not been like that.

Six months. Six months wasted at the hospital only for all the specialists in the Underground to tell him that there was nothing they could do for his brother. None of the healing magics worked and there was nothing to influence with chemicals or hormones. All they could offer him was an apology and potential ways to reteach his brother everything he had lost over the months before sending him home with a twin brother whose mental state was worsening by the day. He had been rightfully pissed but it had been manageable; the doctors were just doing what they could within the limitations of their knowledge.

It has been King Asgore’s hesitation that had sent him over the edge.

His entire left side still ached from where he had hit the floor after one of the King’s attacks had slammed into his right side yet he had been too stubborn in the moment to stay down. Rage, bewilderment, and fear were a potent mix to fight with but King Asgore weathered it all with a level of patience that only infuriated him more. When it was all said and done, King Asgore walked him home to make sure he made it home safe with the magical exhaustion.

The ringing in his head got worse.

There would be times where he could ignore it, and sometimes not even notice it, and then there would be other times when all it did was fill his skull with noise making it impossible to think straight. Work did little to dull the noise but it was better than letting it drive him crazy and when he couldn’t think straight because of it, he threw himself even harder into his work, all of his efforts focused on finding some way of helping his brother.

He made his greatest breakthrough that way.

He labeled it Dissociative Acute Amnesia. It wasn’t exactly something that could be bottled - not that it stopped him from figuring out how - but he labeled it that anyway. It had fascinating results on those he tested it on and he spent a good number of years remaking people by simply taking away a few memories and replacing them with different ones. A number of monsters and humans died from the first trials but he had expected as much and made sure there were easy ways to cover up the deaths. The challenge came when he started trying it out on those not restricted to his lab.

Filling his brother’s shoes was sickeningly easy. The flux of emotions was still uncontrollable but faking them in the presence of those who cared enough to notice discrepancies was child’s play. Until he perfected Dissociative Acute Amnesia, he couldn’t let his brother beyond the world of their home. Already what little he had given his brother - what little he had changed - had returned some of his brother’s ability to think and speak. The ringing was still there but the edges were quieter and what few words his brother could manage had been enough for him to know it was helping the noise in his brother’s skull as well. A few more living trials and he would be able to properly repair his brother’s mental state.

The entire Underground was in an uproar.

Everything had been going well. He had been doing experiments for years without anyone catching on, manipulating the population around him one person at a time. Just because a few died from it didn’t excuse the fervor people sought him out. Forethought made it so that their home was forgotten in the trees of Snowdin. Forethought was the only reason he had any time at all to correct the mistake.

“Decos?”

He didn’t look up from his scrawling, magic thick in the air as he multitasked. A vial flew past his brother’s head, a hand construct wrapped securely around the glass taking it to where he needed it. “In a moment, Dings. I have to finish this before they arrive.”

His brother shifted in the doorway as a tug at their soul made him sigh. He finished the last line of text before facing his brother. The magic kept moving; he did not have time to give his brother his full attention. Not yet, at least.

“Anything I can help with?”

His brother was standing on his own, albeit listing to the left, but the gaze was half focused and the soft smile tired. The unease that had tugged at their soul lingered on the edges of those lightly spoken words. He pulled a smile to his face, suggesting, “If you are able to manage it, I could do with some food.”

His brother nodded and shuffled off. If his brother managed to stay on task, it would be one of the better days for his brother. The memory loss had gotten so bad that it was now commonplace for his brother to forget what he was doing mid-task, distracted by a wayward thought or by another task. Dissociative Acute Amnesia was still being perfected and he didn’t want to risk his brother’s retention of cognitive functions anymore than they were risked. Memories could be added back later.

It also allowed him to work unobserved most of the time.

His attempt at removing them from the collective memory could have been more effective but it was enough. The dispersal of magic and chemicals had been imperfect, leaving some to remember more than others. It certainly gave him plenty to study and work with for when he ever needed to follow through with repeating the dispersal.

Some of those that were long living he personally made sure forgot about him and his brother - the King and a fire elemental that his brother had become friends with being two of a very short list. A good century of staying out of sight would take care of the rest.

Time wore on and he took his time perfecting both Acute and Dissociative Acute Amnesia.

It was a good century and a half before he noticed the aches and pains. The onset had been extremely slow to the point that he hadn’t thought to care about it until his brother collapsed in the kitchen and sent excruciating pain through both their forms.

He glared at the test results quelling his frustration with the situation as best he could. He pressed a hand against the massive glass cylinder to keep himself steady as much as it was to reassure himself that everything would work out just fine. He turned a softened gaze to his brother floating inside. Lacking any real skill with healing magic had driven him to resort to other ways of keeping them both healthy. He was very pleased that all the work that had gone into doing so had paid off. The injury sustained in the kitchen was healing well but his brother’s body was deteriorating. Whether it was from the Dissociative Acute Amnesia or something else he couldn’t tell without doing more research. So far the deaths in the trials had been something other than deterioration like what his brother was suffering.

Had there been any hope of his brother’s condition getting better, he would have just done what needed to be done and moved on, but that was not the case. His brother’s body would fail long before there were any mental repercussions from the Dissociative Acute Amnesia at this point and he could not afford to be his brother's keeper to the extent needed for someone deteriorating so badly.

He could get his brother some sort of nurse or aid, someone who would keep an eye on his brother for him and who would be a good assistant in the labs when his brother was resting. It would take some work and a good amount of Dissociate Acute Amnesia but it would be worth it.

All he had to do was find a skeleton he could whisk away.

Or make one.
Movement drew his attention from wherever it had wandered. A figure had appeared in the doorway, one he only half recognized, and he couldn’t help the serene smile that pulled across his face. There was a familiarity to the figure like years had passed since the last time close companions had seen each other. Only, those nonexistent years had not been kind to the skeleton monster standing in his doorway. “Good morning, TN. Have a good night?”

“Of course, sir,” the figure replied, returning his smile with a soft, much smaller one.

TN’s sockets remained emotionless.

He didn’t comment on it.

“I’m glad.”

He never commented on it, just as he never commented when the other appeared far too old for a single day passing. The first time it had happened, he had been too lost to really understand what had happened. But when it continued to happen sporadically, he took notice as best he was able to with his own ability to hold onto time properly.

Trying to do anything about it, though, only made the problem worse. His brother would never lay a hand on him but TN did not have whatever protection he had. It was a fact that was well exploited in the beginning when he was still coming to terms with what he could and could not remember and why.

Regardless of the reason for it this time, the punishment had been severe. TN was easily almost a century older than the day before, nearly the equivalent of a decade for any short living. TN’s height had easily doubled and what childness had clung to the other’s bones was long gone, eaten away by time that hadn’t passed properly. He pushed himself to his feet, once more unable to pull his thoughts from how his brother was causing it; was it magic or the consequences of things his brother should have let lie?

“Shall we get this day started, then, since you are here?” he asked in lieu of all the millions of dangerous questions he should be asking instead. “Will my brother be joining us today?”

“Dr. Gaster has not stated any changes to his normal routine.”

Which meant that his brother would be in the lower labs. He nodded, patting TN’s shoulder as he made his way out of his bedroom. “Then let us make breakfast and make sure he eats.”

The tiny glass of inky black medicine clicked against the table when TN put it down next to his plate. He had been taking it for over two centuries now, though this particular dosage hadn’t changed in the last half century. What the medicine was had changed since then, as had the quantity. He remembered the countless bottles he had gone through in a matter of a week in the beginning and now it was half a shot glass worth each day, half in the morning, half in the evening.

He took it without fanfare. The dosage he was taking now - the medication itself - hadn’t changed in the last half century and while part of that he suspected was from his brother believing it was perfected, he knew the other was from his willingness to play his brother’s game. It had taken him too long to learn what behaviors his brother watched for when it came to changing the dosages; he wasn’t about to lose that advantage now.

His gaze settled on TN as he returned the tiny cup to the table, watching as the other gathered a tray for his brother. TN had been introduced those fifty years ago, so maybe it was more a matter of his brother no longer paying close attention than it was his ability to play his brother’s game.

After all, feigning memory loss meant he was able to learn things he shouldn’t know.

During the first twenty years, TN would talk to him when he was either falling asleep or just before the medicine was supposed to take effect. Oftentimes there would be a secret of some form - a whisper of the pain his brother caused TN, hints of the truth behind TN’s existence - that it hadn’t taken more than the first year for him to realize that his brother had created TN, had managed to create life.

At that rough twenty year mark, though, TN had woken him one morning almost a full century older and the whispered confessions never continued. If there had been any point in the last half century that had been the hardest for him to continue his ruse, it had been then. He hated that it had gotten easier over the years, not that it meant he was unaffected when it happened anymore. TN’s appearance that morning had that urge returning as an undercurrent he knew would not leave him for the rest of the day.

A frantic knock at the door drew him from his musings but he did not move to answer. TN crossed over the kitchen threshold as he watched, answering the front door that was out of sight from where he was seated. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come knocking, not that it meant it had been a long time since the last time, but he knew better than to answer the knocking. His brother had never said he couldn’t; it wasn’t worth the risk. All he had ever seen these last two centuries was the house.

Fleetingly, he marveled at the fact that he hadn’t gotten stir crazy yet.

“Oh thank the stars,” someone said, their voice thick with relief. That relief was quickly replaced with a frantic urgency. “Dr. Wing Dings Gaster lives here, right? Is he in?”

Mild surprise flickered through him as he heard his brother’s footfall approaching from the basement stairs. He was rather certain he knew the reason why his brother had chosen to take up his name as an alias despite the actual knowledge sitting just outside his reach.

A second voice quickly added in the same frantic urgency, “Please, we need his help.”

“I am here, Tracy, Addison,” his brother said as he approached the front door. The path from the basement to the front door went right past the kitchen threshold and it offered him a clear view of his brother feigning an expression of concern. The only reason why he knew it was an act was because he knew his brother. No one else - aside from TN, most likely - would be able to tell. “What seems to be...oh.”

The first voice was talking before Decos’s words had died on their own. “Please, Dings. The Royal siblings have already died and the hospitals have lost four other children already.”

“We would have gone there but you were closer,” the second voice explained even as the sound of shuffling feet informed Dings that his brother had ushered the pair inside. He carefully stood, cognizant of the weak parts in the floor and deliberately leaving his chair in place.

“I will see what I can do but I am not that kind of doctor.” He tucked himself into the space between the cabinetry and the outer wall that hid the broom and mop with practiced ease and care. “Are you sure you want to bring them both here?”

“If anyone can find a way to save them, it’s going to be you,” the first voice spoke with such conviction, Dings knew this was more than coincidence now. Neither he nor his brother dabbled in that area beyond a curious glance and even now he knew his brother had not returned to it.

“Alright,” his brother spoke, bringing the brief breath of silence to a close. “Follow me. We’ll take the two of them downstairs to the lab and see what I can do. Roman, take their older boy from Tracy. Addison, I can take the younger.”

“No,” the second voice quickly said, strangled with some emotion he couldn’t piece apart. “Please. I-I want to carry my baby boy just a little longer. I’ll be ok.”

“I’ll help her, Dings,” the first voice said. “Just lead the way.”

The footfall moved past the kitchen towards the basement but he didn’t move from his hiding spot until long after the sound of voices had vanished.

When the medicine wore off that evening, the memories of the day were easy to piece together. The two people who had come looking for his brother under his name left around midday without whoever they had brought. His brother had gone with them only to return a few hours later alone.

It took him a month before he found evidence of whoever those two people had left behind. His brother had been overly cautious with making sure whoever had been left behind was not discovered, be it by him or a wandering soul. The room itself was one buried into the depths of the labs beneath their home, someplace that risked him being caught if he dared linger too long. The only light in the room came from the two massive cylindrical tanks. Streams of bubbles and the suspended form contained within each one was the only hint the tanks weren’t filled with air. His brother had numerous experiments that utilized the same style of tank all throughout the labs so their existence and what they contained hadn’t really drawn his attention. The notes he found, though, did.

Two human boys had been brought and left with his brother - one twelve, the other fifteen - both dying from Overworld atmosphere poisoning. Whether there truly had been any hope for the boys or not his brother hadn’t noted. The only jarring notation he found was about having two subjects that had the potential of surviving a procedure. The procedure itself was never named but there was enough to piece together that his brother was attempting to create skeleton monsters out of human remains. What the end goal of such an experiment was was never written down, either.

If either boy retained a sliver of who they had been before they had been placed in his brother’s hands, it would be astonishing. Decos had kept detailed notes of what he had done to the two boys, unaware of the evidence he was leaving about the level of violence he was willing to commit for some goal Dings couldn’t find. The only way Dings remained unaffected by the notes was because he had read similar horrors in others and had long since learned how to detach himself from them.

It was years before Dings was introduced to the two skeleton monsters that had once been human children. Decos had been callous with introductions, stating Subject One and Subject Two as if that were their names. It took very little prodding from Dings to get his brother to cede to normal names for the new additions to the household. He hoped the look he caught from TN over Decos’s shoulder was gratitude.

Names came from the boys themselves, much to Decos’s apparent annoyance when Dings had informed him of the names. The boys had retained each other’s human name and Dings was not above the level of petty that feigning no memories allowed him at times. While the names had been whispered between the boys in private, caught only by chance of Dings’s passing, Dings had made it sound as if they had been his idea. The boys had been forewarned and hadn’t suffered any consequences as far as Dings could tell.

Subject One was called Samuel, while Subject Two was called Patten, and once the whole names debacle was handled, Dings treated the boys as he did TN: with as much care and love as he could without risking their safety with his brother.

It took some time before the boys were comfortable enough to be themselves around him. He quickly learned that both boys were highly intelligent, but where Patten was interested in the sciences, Samuel’s interests were broader. There were still the sciences but Samuel enjoyed moving, creating, and oftentimes those combined into elaborate puzzles drawn out that were as much a game as an obstacle course. Patten never really liked puzzles, not even crosswords or number puzzles, but he went along with whatever Samuel was doing if Decos wasn’t monopolizing his attention.

That was one thing he quickly discovered: Decos had taken to Patten like the boy was some protégé and was slowly manipulating the dynamics between the pair. Decos went as far as dismissing Samuel because the older boy - which Dings discovered Decos was calling the younger now - was more adept to physical activities and liked sports and moving which were things Decos dismissed as frivolous despite the boy’s show of equal brilliance to his brother’s. Dings did what he could to teach Samuel other things, like cooking and sewing, if for nothing more than to give the boy something to do and feel proud of.

The longer the boys worked with his brother, the more damage he saw. It was unusual for any of it to be physical - neither of them suffered through suddenly aging overnight like TN had - but the psychological damage was starting to show more and more. Samuel started doubting his own intelligence, believing what Dings could only assume was hours upon hours of dismissal and comparison to Patten and held to an expectation that not even Decos himself could meet. It in turn had the boy closing off almost completely, feigning a happy go lucky personality to hide it all. For Patten, it was almost worse. The smaller of the two had always been happy, excitable, even downright playful and mischievous as children their age should be, but as time wore on, Patten grew quiet, still, and cautious. Everything Patten did was calculated, controlled, and it left Dings with this growing desire to get both boys as far away from Decos’s reach as he could manage.

Dings woke one morning viscerally aware that his time in the world was coming to an end. It was like a resolute weight on their soul that held a date and time he couldn’t see but he could feel it. It was soon - startling so - and he knew if he was going to do anything for the boys and TN, it had to be now.

TN settled in the doorway as was the routine and Dings gestured for the skeleton to approach. “Close the door behind yourself, TN. We have something to discuss.”

The unease that settled over TN was disheartening but not surprising. TN did as instructed and came to stand before him, patiently waiting for whatever Dings had to share.

“I want your assistance in getting Samuel and Patten out of here away from my brother.”

They formed a plan within the hour; TN left the house at the top of the following hour. It was too risky for Dings to go and acquire what they needed but sending TN held its own risks. The only thing they were trusting was Patten and Samuel could hold Decos’s attention long enough for TN’s absence to go unnoticed.

It worked. TN returned three hours later with a comment of success and Decos being none the wiser. The next part was informing at least Samuel of what was about to transpire.

“Why can’t I tell Patten?” Samuel challenged, though there wasn’t much fight in it. Dings knew the boy had already surmised that telling his younger - to Samuel, older - brother would be tempting fate and having Decos learn of the ploy. But the eagerness to have someplace safe to call home was far too great for the child to not want to share it with his brother.

“You will,” Dings assured him. “Just not yet.”

If there had been much of a timeline they were following, it was immediately destroyed when TN stumbled into his room the next evening, severely injured and having aged nearly half a millennia.

Decos had finally figured out what Dings had days prior.

He started for the door, commanding, “Go get Samuel and Patten and head for the house. I’ll go handle my brother.”

TN’s hand was a shackle around his wrist, painful against bones that were starting to die. “You have to come with us.”

Dings was sharply reminded of how young TN actually was despite the years it appeared the other had lived. TN was shaking, fear clear in the other’s expression even as TN tried to be resolute with Dings’s plan. He offered TN a soft smile, covering the hand still clasped around his wrist. “I will. But you and the other boys’ safety has to be priority.”

TN made to fight him on the matter but Dings was quicker. With a quick pull and twist, his wrist was free from TN’s grasp and he shot towards the basement like a bullet.

Patten looked up from the notes he was copying when he heard someone hurrying through the halls. Getting up, he poked his head out of the door into the hallway in time to catch sight of Wing Dings nearly jogging down the hall, glancing into different rooms as if he was looking for something. Patten stepped out of the storage room, asking, “Do you need help finding something, Wing Dings?”

Whether it was his voice or his words that drew Wing Dings’s attention, he had it fully. The older skeleton crossed to him, a careful hand settling on his left shoulder. He still flinched from it. “I need you to go find your brother, Patten. When you do, find TN.”

“But what are you looking for?” Patten pressed, trusting that Wing Dings would not scold him for his curiosity.

Wing Dings only gave him a soft smile. “Go. I’ll tell you when I meet up with everyone later.”

“Ok.” He watched Wing Dings start off again, continuing on into the labs. “It may be best to avoid the main lab. G isn’t in the best of moods right now.”

Wing Dings slowed to a stop to look back at him, expression so emotionless, Patten felt a thrill of fear that he had misidentified the monster before him. But in a blink, there was a small smile back on Wing Dings’s face and appreciation soothed the edges of the older’s expression. “I will keep that in mind. Off with you, now.”

And with that, Wing Dings was gone.

Patten waited, listening, but when Wing Dings didn’t return, he turned the way Wing Dings had come and took off at a run.

He nearly ran into his brother at the bottom of the stairs leading up into the main house. Samuel’s hands quickly wrapped around his upper arms, supporting his weight with ease until Patten could get his feet back under him. “Sam! Wing Dings said I had to find you. What’s going on?”

Samuel shook his head, tugging on Patten’s arms. “Later, Pat. We have to go, right now.”

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

Samuel’s neutral mask cracked but Samuel refused to let it slip. “Later. I promise, but we have to go now.”

Patten struggled in Samuel’s hold, breaking free and putting a good few feet between them. Magic filled his body, rolling forward at the sudden influx of emotions, and he did what he could to quell it, to try and control magic he was still not used to. It flared his eyelights. His brother’s magic became visible to Patten, a ghost image over his brother’s body and a pinprick of light where his brother’s soul rested out of sight. He could pick up on Roman’s magic in the house above them heading their way. He didn’t dare remove his gaze from Samuel to try looking for Wing Dings or Dr. Gaster. “No. Right now. Tell me right now what’s going on so that I can be of help!”

“Patten-”

“Please, Sam,” he pleaded, watching as TN’s magic came to the top of the stairs. “Abbreviated is fine. Just something for me to work with.”

“We’re getting out of here.”

His magic fizzled out. “What?”

Samuel’s mask fell completely allowing Patten a glimpse of the determination and fear his brother was currently dealing with, not to mention the numerous other emotions his brother was probably dealing with. “We’re getting out. TN has a house for us by Dings’s asking and it’s going to be our new home. We won’t be anywhere near Dr. Gaster again.”

“But…that’s not…” Patten shook his head. “How is Dr. Gaster not supposed to find us, though? The Underground isn’t very big.”

There was a flicker of realization in Samuel’s expression and Patten had his answer. It curled into his thoughts as it must have for Samuel because when Patten turned on the foot he hadn’t realized had already taken a step back, Samuel was kicking off the stairs.

Patten felt the press of Samuel’s fingertips through his sleeve but his brother missed and Patten took off down the hallway as fast as he could go. There was a press of magic, an attempt from at least one of the skeletons behind him, but he slipped out of that touch, too, careening around a corner and aiming for the one place he didn’t want to be.

He smelled the smoke before he saw it and even then it was faint under the stench that slammed into him. Trying not to gag, he kept going, soul pounding in his chest as his mind quickly surmised what he was about to find. The main lab was a massive room that opened suddenly before him. Light danced off the equipment from telltale flames scattered throughout the space. What was usually a pristine room was a wreck from a terrifying display of anger Patten had only heard from the echoes that had made it to him. Dr. Gaster’s voice had been the loudest of the noises but whether there had been anyone else during the chaos, he didn’t know. Even now he could hear Dr. Gaster - or was it Wing Dings - over the din of fire crackling and something sparking in the distance. The haze in the room didn’t help. Barely a few steps in and his head was already reeling from the chemicals in the air.

He shot around a pile of debris. The floor was unrelenting as he fell backwards in an attempt to stop as quickly as possible. Barely inches from where he had skidded to a stop was a substance that looked like ink but hissed like acid. The substance stretched out before him splattered over everything within a given radius, and near the epicenter of what had probably been a blast was a single standing form. He couldn’t tell if it was Wing Dings or Dr. Gaster.

Movement at the halfway point between him and the epicenter quickly drew his attention. A form pulled itself from the substance that coated it, globs of the black stuff dripping off, filling the space with soft smk sounds with each droplet that collided with the substance still spread out on the floor. When the head came up and looked right at him, he knew that he was looking at Wing Dings. Which meant-

The construct nearly hit him had a second one not intercepted it at the last second. Patten gave a startled yelp at the sudden noise, flinching when both bone constructs when spinning past his head. There was a shout, words of some kind spoken, but whatever they had been were lost on Patten as they scraped against the inside of his skull like nails on a chalkboard. He tried to get up, to get away, but the substance had inched under his heels taking the traction out from under his shoes.

His sudden movement drew the two figure’s attention again. With a sudden burst of terror, Patten moved to scramble back at the farthest lunged forward, magic flaring in the goop covered body that Patten innately knew was his death.

The form between them surged upwards, colliding with the first. The forms toppled into the mess, splattering it even more. Patten scrambled upright, watching in horror as Wing Dings tried to get the upper hand on Dr. Gaster.

Wing Dings wasn’t going to succeed.

Patten took a step forward. He wanted to help. He had to help. Wing Dings had been nothing but kind to him and his brother. It wasn’t right that he had to die at Dr. Gaster’s hands, too.

A familiar hand closed around his upper arm.

“Patten!” his brother shouted, tugging at his arm. “Come on!”

“We can’t leave him!” he shouted back, fighting his brother’s grip. The regret and acceptance that marred his brother’s face made his soul sink with dread. He yanked harder but his brother had always been the stronger one. “No! Please!”

“Brother, please! We have to go! If we don’t, Gaster will get us and this will all be for nothing!”

“Not without-!”

“There you two are!” Roman came up from behind his brother like wind and scooped Patten up before Patten could react. Patten could see partially healed cracks and abrasions covering Roman’s bare arms and face. Something behind Patten exploded, pressing into all three of them with a burning heat. Roman muttered, “Time to go.”

Roman pinned Patten to his chest, leaving Patten with a clear view of the undulating mass behind them as Samuel ran at Roman’s side. It was nothing more than a black mass backlit by a raging fire that was quickly consuming the room. He yelled in fear and frustration and his magic swelled to respond.

He barely got the magic gathered with a formed intent before something shot through his right socket.

What magic he had gathered shattered in his control and turned on him. White hot pain erupted from his socket and the sudden hold around him was excruciating.

He screamed.

When he came to, his skull was pounding and something uncomfortable was pressing against his right socket. He tried to reach up to figure out what it was but was met with resistance. Pain skittered up his arm but it was like an itch. Something more was weighing his arm down. When he managed to get some semblance of an eyelight in his left socket, he realized it was a blanket.

He didn’t recognize the room. For a moment, fear pulsed through him until a figure stood in his line of sight. It was strange. He felt like he should know the person but all he could remember was that this person was safe, that this person was helping.

“How are you feeling, Sans?”

The words sounded strange in his skull, foreign yet he understood them anyway. It made him want to rub at his right socket. “Sans?” he parroted, the odd language feeling weird in his mouth.

The figure’s expression was strained around the kind smile. “That is your name. You are Sans and your brother is Papyrus.”

“Brother?” He didn’t remember having a brother but he liked the idea. He wondered if his brother was older or younger.

“Yes, brother.” Worry pulled at the figure’s expression as they ran a hand over his forehead. “You still have a fever. You are due a dose of medicine so I will be right back with it and a cloth.”

The figure stepped away before he could figure out how to ask who they were.

When they returned, they had a tiny glass filled to almost the brim with an inky black liquid that he recoiled from. The figure’s hand rested against his forehead again, stilling his movement. “This will help with the fever. It will be alright.”

He gagged when the taste of the medicine slammed into him but the person didn’t let him spit it back out. When the last drop had slid down his throat, the person pulled back and he vomited over the edge of the bed. The person had been quick, getting a trash can under him in time, and he wasn’t certain he felt better seeing only spent magic rather than the inky black gunk he had just swallowed. The person was certainly relieved. “Good. I am not surprised you were sick afterwards. Your brother Papyrus was equally ill after his dosage.”

“My brother is sick, too?” he asked, not liking the strangeness of the language.

“Yes, though not as bad as you. Yours is from an infection in your socket. His is just the flu.”

Exhaustion rushed through him so hard and so fast, he didn’t even realize he had passed out until he was waking up again. This time magic didn’t struggle to fill his left socket and when he moved, the blankets didn’t feel like some heavy restriction. He sat up, hand immediately going to his right socket. There was a soft square of gauze over it held in place by a few pieces of tape. He poked at it, leaving it be but trying to remember why it was there.

“Good morning, Sans,” someone said, drawing his attention to the only door in the room. He stared at the older skeleton, watching as they crossed to him with a tired smile on their face. “I have your next dose of medicine.”

“Medicine?” he parroted, feeling oddly like they’d done this dance before. But, no, that wasn’t right. The person before him was unfamiliar enough to be new to him, certainly.

“For that nasty bug you caught the other day. You were seriously ill all of yesterday and through the night. I was concerned I would have to take you to the hospital.”

Something in those words seemed off but he ignored it in favor of taking the tiny glass from the person. “But I’m better now?”

“Nearly,” the person assured him. “Just need another full night of rest and another dose of medicine and you should be well enough to leave your room.”

He threw the medicine back without prompting, shuddering at the nasty taste. He stuck out the conjured tongue as he made a face and was grateful it wasn’t black despite the taste lingering. The person chuckled, offering him the glass of water in their other hand. “Ah, good job. Not puking is a good sign.”

“Surprised I managed not to after that.” He took the water and downed half the glass before passing it back. Lethargy pulled at his bones and suddenly sleeping sounded like the best thing ever. “‘m tired,” he found himself slurring.

The person chuckled again. “Then sleep, Sans.”

When he woke again, it was to a quiet house. He got up but everything ached like he was trying to get sick. Not liking the sensation at all, he rubbed at his right socket where an odd itch had settled in the depths. He crossed the oddly unfamiliar room to the only door and pulled it open. Beyond the door was a landing that was probably no wider than he was tall with a rail that came up to just above his elbows. He leaned against it looking down and that sick feeling intensified.

The space beneath him was arranged with living room furniture and the window behind the couch had its curtains drawn back to show the snow falling outside. The front door was to the left of the couch from where he stood and the stairs on the right wall. There were two other doors on the landing beside the one he had walked through. Beyond that, there wasn’t much to note about the place.

He tried the door next to his only to find a small bathroom. It looked rather unused. He moved to the last door and found a second bedroom. The bed looked used, blankets strewn about, but beyond that, the room held very little else and no person.

He closed the door with a frown. He had been expecting someone to be in the house somewhere but he couldn’t quite place who. The stairs barely made a sound as he walked down them, finding that there was a door and a doorframe on the wall under the landing. The doorframe was full of light and what hints he could see of tile and wood had him guessing it was the kitchen. But the other door was a mystery. Opening it revealed an empty room barring the few pieces of what looked like random junk sitting in one corner. A storage space, then, or a room to utilize later.

The kitchen held the only other soul in the entire house. Seated at the table was a skeleton he knew immediately and smiled warmly at his brother. “Hey, Pap.” The nickname, as habitually as it had come off his tongue, sounded wrong. When his brother looked up at him, he let that warm smile grow into a grin. “Wow, bro. You look as bad as I feel.”

Papyrus chuckled, rubbing at his skull. “Patt-” His brother’s words cut off as bewilderment crossed Papyrus’s face. “Sans,” his brother stated deliberately. That bewilderment quickly turned dejected and Papyrus let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, Sans. I look bad because I feel bad. Everything hurts and I can’t get my thoughts straight enough to piece together anything.”

“What’s got you in a knot?” he asked, sitting down in one of the other two chairs.

Papyrus pushed the note on the table towards him.

Prescription:

One dose of medicine every twelve hours until bottle is empty between both patients

Sans looked to his brother for an explanation but Papyrus shrugged. “Like I said. I can’t piece anything together. I think we’ve been sick for a few days. That note is dated four days ago if the calendar’s to be believed and the bottle itself-” Papyrus gestured towards a dusty brown glass bottle as long as Sans’s forearm- “is nearly empty.”

“Has it been twelve hours since our last dose?” Sans asked, looking back down at the note.

“Probably. I had an alarm go off. It’s the only reason why I’m awake right now.”

Sans gave a non-committal hum as he wadded up the note and tossed it towards the trash can. It bounced off the wall into the bin without touching the rim and he stared at it for a good moment before he lowered his arm back down. “Shall we shoot it back then and get it over with?”

Papyrus grumbled something but the lankier stood and got some glasses from the cabinet anyways.

The stuff was a horrible black color that made Sans’s nonexistent skin crawl. He shuddered under the sensation and threw the medicine back without a second look. Papyrus must have followed suit because when Sans smacked the glass back into the table trying not to heave on the taste, Papyrus was recoiling with an empty glass in hand.

“That shit is nasty,” Sans croaked out around the urge to vomit.

“Language, Sans,” Papyrus reprimanded weakly, quickly crossing to the sink. Papyrus didn’t even manage to rinse out his glass before the nausea became too much. Sans rubbed his brother’s back, urging his own nausea to stay quelled in wake of his brother being sick in the sink. The water from the tap kicking on startled him from a dose he hadn’t realized he had fallen into and he looked back at Papyrus. The other was washing his face; the sink was already rinsed. “Though I do agree with your sentiments. That was vile.”

Sans rubbed the back of his hand against his right socket, the glass of his cup clicking against bone as he tapped himself in the face with it. “Last round of it so we’re great.” He ground against the urge to cuss some more. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out on my feet. Can we go back to bed?”

Papyrus shut off the water but didn’t move very far. Concern cut through Sans’s sudden lethargy as he watched Papyrus rest his head on an arm at the sink’s edge. “Hey, Pap. Let’s get you upstairs into bed. Bound to be far more comfortable than the kitchen sink.”

He didn’t get a verbal response but Papyrus did stand. Papyrus looked even worse than before and it was all Sans could do to not ask again if his brother was doing ok.

He couldn’t remember making it to his bed the previous night but he certainly felt like he had slept like a rock. Getting up, he got a good stretch in before heading downstairs. He stepped lightly passed his brother’s door, letting his younger brother sleep more if he was indeed sleeping. The house felt too barren, too new, that Sans settled on going shopping for furniture once Papyrus was up.

The kitchen light came on with a flick of the switch. The fridge was startlingly empty and his plan to go out quickly went to the need of getting groceries, which only led his thoughts down a twisting path that had his soul hammering in his chest by the time Papyrus wandered into the kitchen almost thirty minutes later.

“Sans?”

He jerked at the sound of his name and whipped his head around to Papyrus. He had been staring into an empty cabinet. “Morning, Pap,” he offered, unable to pull a smile to his face. “Hey, real quick: do either of us have jobs?”

Papyrus’s relaxed expression tightened. “I…don’t know for sure. I would think so with having to pay the bills and for food.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but I can’t remember having a job.”

Sans stepped around his brother into the living room. There was a box near the door that was still taped shut, the only box in the room. The only other ones he had seen had been in the storage room. “Hey, Pap, do me a favor and go check out the boxes in that spare room.” He gestured wildly towards the door as he crossed to the box. “I’m going to check this one out first.”

If Papyrus had responded, he didn’t hear it. His magic was sluggish to respond, like it had been a while since he had used it - or like he wasn’t used to using it but that would be stupid - but it formed a sharp bone construct at his beckoning and he sliced through the tape easily enough. Inside he found an envelope, a ring of keys, and a couple of random things - at least two pairs of shoes were at the bottom - with packing paper shoved in among the crevices. He pocketed the keys and took the envelope to the spare room.

Papyrus had begun emptying the boxes of content. Most of it was clothing, though he spotted a pair of fluffy pink slippers and a sports cap. Currently Papyrus was pulling out a few towels from one of the remaining boxes. “Found an envelope,” he stated.

“Does it contain anything?” Papyrus asked, pulling out what looked to be a jacket.

Sans pulled the flap from inside the envelope and found a bundle of pages. “Looks like a letter, maybe?”

It was more than that. Contained within the envelope was the deed for the house, a list of items that had been ordered for future delivery they would have to keep an eye out for, and information for a bank account under each of their names. Sans stared at the amount total for both accounts. “I don’t think we’re gonna have to worry about work for a while.” He passed the bank statements to Papyrus. “Don’t know how far that’ll actually go but we’ve got to be good for at least a few days.”

Papyrus frowned at the pages, moving them until he was able to read before his own sockets went wide. Papyrus’s gaze snapped up at Sans. “I would hope it lasts us longer than that. This is too large a number to only last us a few days.”

Sans shrugged. “Let’s go get groceries and we’ll see.”

Going through the boxes had made sure they had warmer gear to wear out in the snow. Stepping out revealed the house was secluded from what looked like a small town without actually being secluded. The walk into the small town center was pleasant and everyone they passed was even more so. Sans was quickly finding himself growing concerned with how little he was being able to piece together about the world and the tense way Papyrus was holding himself hinted that his brother wasn’t doing much better.

The bunny running the shop was a bit too curious for Sans’s liking but he managed to sate their probing questions with simple, repeated “just moved here” and “still settling in” talk until they were able to pay and leave.

They definitely had enough money to last them a good few years even if they weren’t careful with their spending.

Putting the groceries was a quiet affair, as was lunch and tidying up the house. Neither of them said anything until dinner.

“Sans,” Papyrus asked, breaking the silence, “was there anything in that envelope that gave us any explanation?”

Sans plucked the envelope from the table. “I don’t think so.” He opened the envelope wide and to his surprise, found a small piece of folded paper tucked into one of the corners. “Hang on. I missed something.”

He didn’t recognize the handwriting at all. He quickly skimmed it. “Well, I think we’re missing a page but it’s written to us, unless there’s another Sans and Papyrus around. The writer goes on to say how sorry they are, that they hope this is enough to get us started and make amends, and that they hope we are better soon.” Sans turned the page over. “No signature and no second page.”

“Well, I did find this in the trash can,” Papyrus said, placing down a crumpled prescription on the table. “There was an empty glass bottle on the table that I tossed so whatever we both had, must have been serious.”

“Serious enough for memory loss?” Sans challenged.

Papyrus shook his head. “But we haven’t forgotten everything. We know where we are, what the name of things are, what things are. It’s not like we don’t know anything and we’re starting from scratch.”

“But what of parents, or possible siblings,” Sans countered. “What of previous education, where we’ve been, why we moved in the first place.” He found himself pressing the heel of his hand into his right socket as his chest ached. “We can’t have come from nowhere. There has to be more. We have to know more than this.” He brought his gaze up to his brother’s, pleading, “Don’t we?”

Papyrus gently pulled him from his chair, crushing him to the taller’s chest in a crushing hug. Sans buried his face in Papyrus’s chest finally feeling the panic his brother must have seen. “We’ll figure it out. One way or the other. It’ll be ok.”

He laughed, ashamed it sounded thick with tears. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one to assure you?”

He felt more than heard Papyrus’s chuckle. “You can tomorrow. For now, let us calm down and deal with what we have to now. We’ll worry about the past tomorrow or the day after.”

The following morning neither of them could really recall what had them stressed out. But, then, they had both been awoken by furniture arriving and by the time that ordeal was over, the post had arrived with a letter of acceptance to Snowdin College for the both of them. Before they knew it, months had passed before either of them thought back on that evening of panic, and it was so muddled in time when they did, they couldn’t remember what had driven the panic in the first place.

The past filled itself in as time went on. As the short living lived and died, the memories of their sudden arrival were equally short lived. The small subdivision with its misspelled library sign had always had Sans and Papyrus as residents and that was just how things were.

After a good decade of college for both of them, Papyrus started hopping from job to job as Sans interned at Snowdin Labs. Sans kept up on learning simply to be able to handle the demands of the projects he chose to help with. It wasn’t until they had been in the house for nearly forty years that Papyrus finally settled into the Royal Guard. It was good work for him, kept him active and helped him make some friends Sans wasn’t sure were the greatest influences, what with how disastrous Undyne’s cooking was, but she had a good soul and meant well and Papyrus trusted her which was good enough for Sans.

Two years before the fiftieth anniversary of moving into their house, Sans was introduced to an Alex Fatum, some human scientist that was supposed to become his lab partner. Sans wasn’t holding his breath on this one, but he also wasn’t above giving the guy a chance. After all, Fatum could surprise him and actually be worth keeping around. Or he could end up just being another partner Sans goes through.

[ArtisticVicu]

Harry Potter and the Altered Timeline
It's the same story, the same string of adventures. The only difference: Severus Snape chose to become a large influence on how Harry Potter grew up.

He just didn't expect his choice to include becoming roommates with Black and Lupin.

To keep Harry safe from the very world that had labeled a child The Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wixen World, and from Albus Dumbledore who would doom the boy despite all the old wizard's good intentions, Severus reached out to Madam Gold - the head of the global organization IPPA - who aided in a discreet relocation to a different continent entirely, good jobs for Black and Lupin, and a solid, blended education for Harry until Hogwarts.

With Black as one of Harry's guardians, Severus highly doubted Harry would make it through his seven years at Hogwarts, one of the safest locations in wixen Europe, without getting into all sorts of troubles. Hopefully the life threatening situations would limit themselves to one encounter, if any, for those seven years. There was only so much Severus could do to keep the boy safe and he would never expect Harry's friends - other children - to keep the boy safe. That responsibility was for the adults to succeed and fail at.


There had been no warning, no news of what was going on, when the Dark Mark inexplicably faded. Everyone bearing the Dark Mark knew what that meant but to what extent and by what means would only come to light in the following hours. For most, it was a dangerous waiting game until more information came.

Waiting wasn’t something he could afford to do. As soon as the realization had sunk in, he rushed out the door heading towards someplace he had no right even approaching. The faded mark on the inside of his left arm drove him to step foot into Godric’s Hollow before the sun had even risen.

Godric’s Hollow was cold, snowy, and very much asleep in the early hours of that November 1st. Remnants of the previous night's festivities were the small, sometimes random but often plentiful, tracks in the snowy lawns, the decorations still on windows and doors, and the faint scent of smoke barely clinging to the air. He could hear the faint scraping of someone cleaning off a car a street over, the only note in the stillness that anyone else was awake at the ungodly hour. It left him far too aware of the pulse in his ears, the lack of air in his lungs, and the skittering of electricity under his skin barely registering underneath the dread of what he was expecting to find.

He had never been to the house. What little reconciliation he had done with Lily - and in turn Potter - before the pair had gone into hiding had gained him the home’s rough location but nothing more. There had been the Gryffindor hope that they would be able to pick up where they had left off once the war calmed down. He had wanted to push but had chosen to respect their desire for time.

If there was any regret, it was obscured by other emotions.

The gaping hole in the roof and the tang of spent magic in the air was a good indicator he had found the right house.

The door was open ahead of him. Already he could make out a foot on the floor as he approached. He and Potter had only managed to become neutral acquaintances but that didn’t stop the bitter guilt from clawing at his chest when he stepped around the prone body. Madam Gold had been right; Potter was not the same boy that had enjoyed bullying him at Hogwarts and neither was he. Holding onto what had happened wasn’t going to serve anyone and yet here he was very tempted to fight against that belief. If he and Potter had just stayed enemies, he wouldn’t be grieving some half known stranger dead at his feet.

He paused long enough to close Potter’s eyes, the only display of emotion he was willing to show for the man.

The stairs creaked as he ascended to the second floor. He had no idea where Lily might have fled to but he knew if he wanted answered, the best place to start was the gaping hole in the roof.

She was lying in the middle of the nursery, glassy green eyes open wide and her hair a red halo around her head. Grief he hadn’t been ready for slammed into him. He stumbled and hit his knees at her side. There was no heat left in the body and barely any movement left in the limbs. Wails of pain and grief ripped themselves from his chest as he held her lifeless form.

He should have never given the Dark Lord the words he had caught out of sheer chance. But even he knew that hadn’t been an option at the time. Hindsight being 20-20 was good and all but it changed nothing. He had done this, had signed Lily and Potter’s fate by following a man he could not separate himself from. Oh, he had tried to correct the wrong as soon as he had realized just how much it affected those he cared about, but it had not been enough. Not even Dumbledore had been able to protect her and rage rushed through him at the thought.

The rage burned through his body far too quickly. It took a large chunk of the raw grief with it leaving him exhausted and sad. With the utmost care, he laid her back down on the floor and got to his feet. He had to go. If he knew Dumbledore well enough, the man would already know what had happened, if not soon, and he didn’t dare stick around for anyone to find him at the scene. He gave the body of his dear friend one last look before starting for the door.

A noise behind him made him jump. He found the glowing tip of his wand pointed at a child before the gesture had even registered in his brain. He jerked the wand tip up and away from the child, meeting strikingly green eyes on an injured face.

The injury looked like lightning stretching across the child’s face. The worst of it was on the child’s forehead above the left eye, blood oozing from a lightning bolt shaped scratch. The rest of the injury was raw, branching over the child’s face like a branch of lightning does in the clouds or electricity through wood.

For one heart-stopping moment, he didn’t understand what he was looking at. Why was there a child there? The child had to have been no more than a year old, a mop of dark hair on its pudgy little head, a red and raw injury on its face, and striking green eyes that were staring at him. Just staring. The child made no noise, made no effort to get any more of his attention, and the realization of who this child was sank into him. It was quickly followed by a thought.

Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter, had just survived the Killing Curse.

Harry Potter, a child of barely more than a year, was the first person to ever survive the Killing Curse.

He was at the crib railing unable to remember making the decision to approach. Dumbledore’s people would be there soon enough to get the boy, he was sure of that. But what if the old man wasn’t sending someone. What if all his assumptions of what Dumbledore had put in place to try and protect the Potters was wrong?

Where would Dumbledore hide the boy if someone did come?

The child- Harry didn’t make any noise as he picked the boy up. He moved to cast a quick spell on the boy’s bleeding forehead and raw abrasions before thinking better on it. Instead, he cast the Patronus Charm, flinching at the doe that came prancing out. “Lupin. Black. Get to Godric’s Hollow as if your life depends on it,” he ground out, voice shockingly hoarse to his ears. “Lily and Potter are dead. Their son somehow miraculously survived. If you don’t get here before Dumbledore does, you will not see him again.”

Not that he had proof of that but he wouldn’t put it past the old man to bury Harry in some hollow somewhere till he was old enough to attend Hogwarts. Too many people - with good and bad intentions - would want the boy. He flicked his wand and sent the Patronus off. It vanished through what remained of the outside wall.

He entered the small bathroom across the hall. To his utter relief and mild surprise, he found muggle medical supplies among the magical ones in the cabinet. He pulled out the non-magical supplies and gathered them on the counter by the sink before sitting Harry down. He bent over so that his eyes were level with the boy’s and spoke calmly, “I’m going to clean your face and put a bandage on it.” Half a second later, he mentally berated himself. The child was barely one. If he understood a single word coming out of his mouth, he’d turn his entire wardrobe into a rainbow of colors and patterns more akin to Dumbledore’s tastes. He carefully ran his hand through the boy’s hair, tracking how far back into his hairline the abrasions went and if it branched out more.

To his consternation, it did, but there wasn’t much he could do about it beyond rubbing some ointment on any of it that was raw. Proper care would have to wait for when they had more time.

He grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with warm water. He carefully ran it over the boy’s face gaining a high pitched whine of pain for his choice of action. Automatically words spilled from his lips. “I know it hurts but you have to keep quiet for me.”

Those striking green eyes found his face and stared. Either the boy understood and fell silent or he managed to just not cause the boy any more pain, forever watched by those green eyes. Setting the dirtied washcloth aside, he put ointment on the worst of it before pressing a bandage into place. He used one of the large adhesive ones rather than following through with his initial desire to wrap the boy’s head. If Lupin and Black didn’t arrive soon, it would serve him better to have the boy as inconspicuous as possible.

With the worst of it covered, he picked the boy back up and went into Lily and James’s room. He didn’t want to go back into the nursery. Any supplies the boy needed could be easily purchased. Instead, he grabbed the warm blanket from the bed and haphazardly wrapped the boy in it, bundling him up so that the fall chill couldn’t touch him.

The stairs seemed to creak louder than when he had ascended them. Harry pressed closer into him and he was certain the boy was out by the time his foot connected with the ground floor.

He could see two forms moving quickly towards the house through the still open front door. He discretely got his wand in his free hand. It wasn't until he was outside the wreckage of a home and could make out the two distinct forms of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black that some of the tension in his back eased. Instinct had him sneering at the pair but he didn’t stop walking towards them.

They got to him as he passed through the front gate and he found himself at wand point. He rolled his eyes as Black demanded, “What are you doing here. And where’s Harry.”

Severus gave him a flat look, tempted to curse the man just because he could. “What do you think the bundle I’m holding is, Black,” he spat in retaliation. He turned his sharp gaze onto Lupin. “You’re welcome to go double check but there isn’t much time. I doubt Dumbledore will waste any time sending someone. If you want to keep the boy with you, you’d best take him and go.”

Confusion crossed both their faces but it was Lupin who lowered his wand first. “Severus,” the man started, startling him with the use of his first name, “what are you talking about? Aren’t you here on Voldemort’s orders? Aren't you part of...” there was a vague gesture towards the damage of the house, "that?"

He wanted to bash his head in on the nearest hard surface. Why was he even trying with these idiotic Gryffindors? He glared at them both, even as a little voice in his head pointed out the question he had glossed over was a valid question. “If you think Dumbledore won’t send him off to be hidden away from everyone in the Magical world then you are both stupider than I originally thought.” Both of them bristled at that but he waved them both off. “Look, we don’t have time. Either take the boy and hide him yourself or let Dumbledore send him off to Merlin knows where until he’s able to go to Hogwarts.” He shot a pointed look at Black. “Even then I don’t think he’ll let you see Harry much.”

“But I’m his Godfather!”

He arched an eyebrow at the man. “I’m well aware. Why do you think I contacted you two first?”

Lupin’s gaze was searching when he realized the werewolf was staring him down. He grew defensive under that light brown gaze but the man spoke before he could tell him off. “Why are you helping us rather than just letting Dumbledore handle all this?”

He wasn’t sure he had an answer for that but one curled into his thoughts and over his tongue before he could check it. “The only living family Lily has left is that stuck up sister of hers and Petunia is the last person - Muggle or otherwise - that Lily’s son should ever know.” His disgust showed as he added, “Even if you are Potter’s friends, she trusted the two of you enough with Harry to name at least one of you his Godfather so take him and run. I’ve done my good deed for the century.”

He made to dump Harry into Black’s arms but the boy shifted in the blankets, bringing his attention away from his issues with the two men before him. The boy’s face scrunched up which he was sure only agitated the injury on his face. He shifted the boy’s weight to free one hand and he brought the cold appendage to the boy’s face. Harry nuzzled against his palm as if the cold hand felt as good as a warm one in normal circumstances.

He wasn’t sure if the heat coming from the boy’s face was from his hand being cold or if the boy’s body was starting to fight off any potential infections.

With care he was oblivious to, he passed Harry off to Black, warning the man, “His face has been injured from what I’m assuming was the Killing Curse he survived so don’t press against it if you can help it. The bandage is covering the worst of it but there’s still raw abrasions in his hairline and down his face. He’ll need to be checked by a mediwitch at some point. There’s no telling what residual magic may still cling to him.”

“Severus.” He jumped, looking to Lupin as Sirius’s attention went to Harry. Lupin had a strange glint in his eye. “Why aren’t you taking Harry?” Sirius must have straightened up at that because Lupin shot past Severus’s shoulder, “You being Harry’s Godfather notwithstanding.”

Severus gave Lupin a flat look. “I don’t care for children. Besides, unless I am horribly mistaken, both of you would have been around the boy plenty enough to know how to take care of him.”

“We don’t really have a suitable place to take him.”

Confusion washed over Severus and he looked between the two men. Black was gently bouncing the boy. “What do you mean you don’t have a place to take him? Where the hell have you two been staying?”

Black shrugged as Lupin explained, “You said it yourself, Severus: Dumbledore would hide Harry if he got his hands on him. If Dumbledore would go out of his way to hide Harry from the magical world, don’t you think we owe it to Harry to do the same? Neither Sirius or I own any home outside of wizarding neighborhoods that are suitable for a child.”

Black’s expression turned curious and thoughtful. “He’s not wrong. The old place is a stone’s throw from Diagon Alley.” He shrugged. “But it’s under some serious charms. I haven’t been there in a long time so I can’t vouch for its condition, nor what’s still trapped inside.”

Lupin glanced at the man before focusing back on Severus. “If we’re hiding Harry, that means we’re hiding him from Dumbledore, too.”

It was a question. How it was a question, he had no blasted clue, but he knew there was one in there. He huffed, annoyed. He hated this, hated the spot Lupin had put him on. He glared at the werewolf, demanding, “You do realize you are asking a known Death Eater for assistance in hiding the person who has just defeated the Dark Lord.”

There was movement to his right, their left, and all three heads whipped around to stare at the end of the street. There was a chance they hadn’t been spotted yet but whoever was approaching would get a good view of them soon.

“He’s Lily’s son,” Lupin spoke, bringing all of their attention back to center. The words and the next held the urgency they were all now feeling. “And I like to think that trumps even your loyalty to Voldemort. Otherwise you wouldn’t be trying to hide Harry from even Dumbledore’s grasp.”

He realized what Lupin was insinuating with that last statement, came to the conclusion that Lupin was saying he had already arrived at, at the same time Black did and both men looked at Harry. The boy was sound asleep again but they all knew that if Dumbledore got ahold of Harry, the boy would be weaponized as soon as the Dark Lord returned. And he would return. Despite the defeat that evening, there was no doubt in any of their minds that this wasn’t the end of the war. It wouldn’t be that easy.

He gave in. “Fine.” He shoved his hand into a pocket and pulled out a piece of card stock the size of a Muggle business card and a cheap pen; he didn’t remember why they were there, not that it mattered now. “But you have to do as I say or you jeopardize everything I’ve done to keep myself safe.” He scribbled out an address, working to make it as legible as possible with the awkward angle. “Go to this address. Use Muggle means to get there and no magic inside unless it’s an emergency.” He glared at Black. “If you can’t live like a Muggle until you come up with a better location, I’d suggest picking a different hole to hide in.”

Lupin looked up from the card, asking before Black could snap some comment, “Will you be coming with?”

He fought the sneer that leapt to his face and wasn’t sure he managed the straight expression he had aimed for instead. His ability to mask properly was failing him in the wake of the emotional chaos. “At some point.” He glared at Black even as he dug into another pocket. “I don’t trust you two to not damage the place.”

“Oh, come on,” Black snapped, rolling his eyes. “You think that-”

Severus grabbed his wrist. The man jerked back but the bundle of child and blanket shifted forcing the man to not fight him. He pressed a key into Black’s palm, hissing, “Don’t break anything or so help me I will skin you alive for a new hearth rug.” He turned to Lupin, putting distance between him and Black. “Expect me in a few days. I will run interference with Dumbledore and bring any sort of mail you may get.” He shot a warning look between the two of them. “Remember: absolutely no magic.” As an afterthought he explained, “It’s a flat far removed from any wizarding community. Any magic expended there will create a target you won’t be able to hide.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Black responded, waving the hand clenching the key around.

Lupin held his gaze, offering in turn, “We’ll see you in a few days.” There was a glint of something in that light brown gaze he couldn’t decipher. “Be careful, Severus.”

He nodded, watching the two men walk off at a brisk pace.

He glanced to his right. Whoever was out for an early morning stroll was most likely unable to discern more than vague shapes when it came to him and the two retreating men. Just to be safe, he headed along the road to his left and turned onto the next road over. He walked down it far enough to not be seen before apparating away.

Word of what had happened got ahead of him. Those that had once feared the Dark Lord celebrated the tyrant’s downfall; an inexcusable amount threw the Statute of Secrecy out the window to do so and Severus was far from surprised when he found that the muggles were catching on.

Lily and James Potter were spoken of with reverence. Harry was named the Boy Who Lived and worshipped for it but no one knew what had happened to the boy. He hated the title they had given the poor boy but at least the world wasn’t quick to figure out where he had gone.

It was five long, grueling days before Dumbledore managed to pin him down instead of the few hours he had anticipated. The conversation was the last thing he had to do before he could make the promised appearance at his own flat and he was looking forward to it being over.

Dumbledore’s office looked unchanged since the last time he had seen it and he wasn’t sure if that was comforting or off-putting. Dumbledore massaged the bridge of his nose under the half moon glasses, still very clearly agitated. “Severus, I have been very patient with you but enough is enough.” He allowed himself a raised eyebrow and nothing more. Dumbledore seemed put out by it but kept talking. “Wherever you have the boy tucked away will not be strong enough to protect him.”

He didn’t respond when the older man let silence hang between them. It was a moment before Dumbledore sighed. “Severus. Please. He will be safer with his aunt. Blood magic-”

“With all due respect, Headmaster,” he cut in, quick but as respectful as he could manage. “The boy is well and safe where he is and will be far happier than he could be with Petunia Dursley, blood magic be damned.”

A bad taste settled at the back of his tongue saying her married name. He had checked in on her after “kidnapping” Harry to make sure Petunia hadn't become some goddess since their last interaction. He had done it on the chance that Dumbledore’s plan for the poor boy was to send him to live with her.

Petunia hadn’t changed. She wasn’t as vile as he had remembered but the parts of her personality that had always rubbed him the wrong way were still there. The walrus of a man she had married wasn’t much better and it would be a miracle if their son didn’t become just as bad. After watching her dote on her “Duddey-kins”, he was certain that if Harry had been dropped on her doorstep with nothing but a note - honestly, what had Dumbledore been thinking with a plan like that?! - Harry would have always come second to the rotund child, if he received any love at all. Harry was a saint of a child compared to Petunia’s son and that was from the first 15 minutes alone of watching the small muggle family from afar.

“Severus.” He prided himself in being able to hide that particular flinch. A disappointed Headmaster was nothing compared to what awaited Lily’s son if he gave in now. “You cannot guarantee he will remain safe from rogue Death Eater hands. When the time comes, he will-”

He cut that argument off immediately, allowing his annoyance at that show. “I guarantee he is as safe as he would have been with Lily’s sister, if not more. He is not being left unattended while I am here, Headmaster. Do you honestly think I would be that careless?”

The urge to roll his eyes at the man’s mild surprise nearly escaped his control. “It would seem you will not budge on this matter.”

It was pointing out the obvious but at least they were finally getting somewhere. “Correct.”

The older wizard sat back in his chair. “Alright, then. In exchange for allowing you to keep Harry safe as you see fit, you will tell me who you have helping you watch over him. Additionally, you will take up the Potions Professor position here at Hogwarts when Horace retires.”

He gave the other a flat look. “You are aware I have turned that position down twice already, not to mention Slughorn is perfectly suited to the position.”

Dumbledore waved him off. “I will not compromise on this point, Severus.” The man gave him a steady stare over those half moon glasses, the jovial glint that was normally present gone. “Horace is retiring after this school year leaving me short a Potions Professor. You have become an exceptional Potions Master and having you here would benefit the students greatly. Not only that but it will make it easier for me to ask about Harry without having to drag you halfway across Europe. Knowing who is helping you will ease my worry.”

“You already suspect who they are.”

That jovial glint was back and he hated it. “I have my speculations, yes.” The man’s expression threatened to break out into a wide smile. “Are you confirming them, then?”

That time he did roll his eyes. “I will teach Potions only if you refrain from reaching out to either of them about Harry or to Harry himself until the boy is at Hogwarts. If you need to contact them, I have somehow become their post owl in this arrangement and will make sure they receive whatever missive you want to send.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore announced, clapping his hands. Severus rolled his eyes again before massaging the bridge of his nose, half listening as the Headmaster went on about something that was probably important.

He left that office an hour later shaken to his core. He stared at the bundle of letters in his hand for a long moment before he made the long trek to the apparition points outside the castle gates.

A hearing. An actual hearing. Despite the reassurance Dumbledore gave him, dread and apprehension bubbled up and tried to choke him. There was no way that even with Dumbledore’s word he was avoiding Azkaban.

Making it to the flat was a miracle all on its own. The spare key turned easily in the lock under a surprisingly steady hand. He barely registered that the place was lively instead of eerily quiet like it usually was until he had closed and locked the door behind him.

“Severus.” “Bout time, Snape.” Both calls greeted him, pulling him out of his reverie. He blinked at the two men. Lupin was stepping out from behind the kitchen counter as Black greeted him from the living room floor. Harry was seated in front of him playing with some blocks Black was apparently helping him stack. Both men were wearing muggle attire he had never seen before and appeared to be in good health.

He caught Lupin’s expression shifting first. Black wasn’t far behind and spoke out before Lupin could. “Woah. What’s wrong with you? You look like death warmed over.”

“Severus.” He turned his attention to Lupin. He should have hated the concerned look on the man’s face, of how it carried on the man’s voice, but something was choking his emotions. “Is everything alright?”

He swallowed against the cotton in his mouth. “Dumbledore isn’t pleased Harry’s gone missing but we’ve reached a compromise. He won’t take the boy as long as I teach Potions and keep him updated.” The celebration he had expected to follow never came and it left him feeling oddly raw. He gestured with the bundle in his hand. “I have a number of letters for the both of you and snippets of news.”

Lupin crossed to him and took the bundle without dropping his gaze. Instead of moving away, the man touched his arm and he flinched from the contact. Lupin’s hand stayed in place. “Anything else?”

Severus found himself glaring at the man. “Not of any concern to either of you.”

He stepped out of the man’s touch and started for his room.

“We left your room alone,” Black called after him. He paused in the alcove that held his door, the bathroom door, and the door to the spare room. He looked back. Black added, “We took over the other room but your door’s been closed since we got here. Remus kept us as contained in the bathroom as possible but we may need a second one if you’re planning on sticking around.”

There was a part of him that wanted to respond with something snarky but his mouth wouldn’t work. So, instead, he turned and went to his room, closing the door behind him.

When he left his room in a state that wasn’t seated in shock a good number of hours later, Black was missing and Lupin was sitting at the kitchen table. The wood surface was decorated by the contents of the bundle he had brought in. A frown pulled at his face as something seemed off about the table.

He gained Lupin’s gaze. “We bought a new one from the muggle shop not far off. The other wasn’t going to be big enough for three grown men and a growing kid.”

He gave Lupin a flat look. “You do realize it is just you and Black here, right?”

Lupin shrugged. “We can put the round one back if you’d prefer. We broke it down and stored it.”

He rolled his eyes. The table was simplistic in design and despite it having been bought by Lupin and Black, he had to admit it was rather nice and fit the space far better than the round one that had been there originally.

Lupin shuffled some of the pages around. “Dumbledore mentioned you have a hearing coming up.”

What little peace he had gained vanished at those words. The muscles in his legs, arms, and chest tightened and he crossed his arms to hide the physical response under a display of annoyance. Dumbledore needed to keep that long, crooked nose out of other people’s business. He had been serious when he had told Lupin - and subsequently Black - that it had been none of their concern. “And what of it?” he bit out, glaring at the other man.

Silence stretched momentarily between them as Lupin held his gaze steadily.

“Do you want either Sirius or me to go with you?”

He found himself staring at the werewolf. It took far too long for his brain to process that. “You’re joking, right?”

Lupin shook his head, picking up a page from the table. “It was actually a suggestion from Dumbledore but we figured it would be better to ask you than to just follow his words.” Severus snatched the offered page and started skimming. Lupin let him read most of it in silence before adding, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

He scoffed at that. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

“Having someone there who you know is on your side will ease the strain of the trial.”

“I will be fine.”

“Severus.” He flinched from the unexpected hand on his forearm - he hadn’t even realized the man had stood - but Lupin’s hand didn’t let go. “Take Sirius with you.” He opened his mouth to immediately strike that idea down but Lupin cut him off. “He’s well known for being on Dumbledore’s side and having a number of those that would be in attendance seeing old school rivals getting along would speak greater than if I was there.” Lupin gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Sirius’s name still carries weight, Severus. Let him use it for some good.”

He frowned. That sounded almost like, “Are you saying Black volunteered himself?”

Lupin looked to the letter he was still holding before looking at the table. “It hadn’t been outright. He had been pissed that Dumbledore would even suggest we do anything to help you out but I think that was old habits from school and the suggestion being shoved at him after a lot of other information.” The man idly pushed pages around. “He had thought it over, though, and had commented that if either of us were to join you, it should be him. Said it would look halfway decent if nothing else due to the old blood ties. It would give you backing by old blood, even if he’s the black sheep of the family.”

He didn’t have a response to that feeling like he was trying to keep his footing on a sheet of ice. It was far easier to change the subject than face whatever that implied. “Where is Black anyways?”

“There’s a street fair a few blocks over that has decorated the street with all sorts of lights and he wanted to check it out. He used Harry as his excuse so we’ll see how long they’re actually gone.” Lupin focused on him, gaze searching. “You left two letters in that bundle that had been addressed to you. Sirius read them before I realized they even existed. When he passed them to me, he looked shaken. I read them as well.”

Severus pulled out one of the chairs and sat down just to put distance between him and Lupin. The desire to cross his arms over his chest in a defensive manner nearly made it past his control. “The information in them pertained to the both of you. It only seemed right you were brought in on the conversation.”

“North America, though?”

“The specific community you and Black would be moving to would be far removed and far different than anything you’ve heard when it comes to what state any of those countries are in. I have worked with Madam Gold for some time and I would strongly suggest not turning away her generosity. She’s willing to offer you both jobs on top of the housing arrangement, an offer you won’t get anywhere else.”

“But that puts a larger gap between you and Harry.”

He met Lupin’s steady gaze, touched and distraught at the notion. “As if that matters. What matters is Harry’s safety and he’ll be far safer in another country than staying here. It also guarantees you both work without you two having to put yourselves within easy grasp of potential killers should news of you two taking care of Harry gets out.”

Lupin’s jaw worked but whatever words the man was rolling around never fell past those closed lips. Instead, the man turned his gaze back to the table and pulled the other letter closer. “This Madam Gold wishes to come and speak with us - all three of us - about housing and work in addition to bringing along a trusted medical professional.”

“Harry still hasn’t been seen for the injury, correct?”

Lupin nodded with a fallen expression. “It seemed safer to not take him to St. Mungo’s after everything but I only know the basics when it comes to the muggle medicines. I’ve just been following your lead, mimicking what you had done for him that first morning.”

“Madam Gold will bring in someone from outside the country. They won’t care about what’s going on in our part of the world and will keep their mouth shut.”

A soft smile pulled at the other’s lips. “That much faith in this Madam Gold?”

“She has earned that much respect from me. Despite what any of you may have perceived, the Dark Lord was not the only recruitment I went under. Luckily for me, Madam Gold’s recruitment was completely voluntary, meaning I could leave with my life without some visible mark and regret.”

He hadn’t intended the last handful of words but it was beyond his tongue before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure if Lupin understood that or had simply respected his privacy on the matter because the man simply asked, “When should we be expecting them, then?”

“Tomorrow, some time around nine in the morning. I figured it would give us time to get up and get going for the day without being too late.”

Lupin nodded, gaze on the letter in hand. He gained a mild amount of amusement watching as what he had said dawned on the other man. Those light brown eyes landed on him again. “You’re staying the night, then?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to crash in the bed I purchased in the home I am currently paying for?”

“No, no,” Lupin quickly assured him. “Just surprised was all.” The man looked back down at the letter in hand but he doubted the man was seeing any of the writing. “Despite everything,” those eyes returned to him and he hated that he couldn’t decipher the man’s look, “despite the changes I can see, I fully expected you to still be that wrathful boy we knew back in Hogwarts and retaliate against Sirius and myself with the viciousness Death Eaters are known for.”

Severus huffed and caught the surprise at his reaction. “Oh, I’m sure it will be a very…eventful stay.” His expression returned to a more neutral one. “But I think having Harry in the middle of all this will temper any sort of confrontation.” That neutral expression flattened. “Not by much, but enough that an actual brawl will probably wait until morning.”

He blatantly ignored the comment about seeing changes. That was a headache inducing conversation best left for another time - or never, if he had a say in it.

Lupin chuckled at that. “Oh good. We’ll all need a good night’s sleep to be able to deal with tomorrow.”

He silently agreed as he let his gaze drift off. Seems Lupin had the same sentiment about the change comment.

“When is your hearing?” He tensed at that. “Dumbledore didn’t say.”

“Three weeks. The 26th.”

Lupin nodded, falling silent.

Black returned with an unconscious Harry tucked into his side, stroller folded and tucked under the other arm. Belatedly he noted that, between the two of them, they had remembered to attain muggle coin to buy what Harry would need and anything else the two men wanted. Black smiled sheepishly at Lupin until he realized Severus was sitting at the table. Surprisingly, Black managed a curt nod and he returned the gesture out of habit. There was no way a simple letter from Dumbledore changed the man in a matter of hours.

“Snivellus.”

And there was the proof. He rolled his eyes. “Black,” he countered coldly. “Have a pleasant walk?”

Black frowned at him. “Yeah,” the man offered, drawing the word out in his confusion. “The street fair was cool to explore. Harry liked all the lights they had strung overhead.”

He raised an eyebrow. It seemed his return quip had gone over the man’s head. Dismissing the desire to make it more obvious was easier than he expected. “If you didn’t try any of the stalls, take Lupin with you the next time you go. He’ll be able to point out the ones you would enjoy.” He blatantly ignored the two varying expressions of surprise aimed at him. “I’ll be staying the night.” He stood slowly. “And if you are so heavily invested in tagging along like some show dog,” he met Black’s gaze steadily, doing his best to keep his expression neutral and closed off, “the hearing is on the 26th. When Dumbledore gives me the remaining information, I will let you know where to be when.”

A different surprise crossed Black’s face. “You’re ok with me tagging along?”

He waved the man off. “I could care less whether you did or not. Just don’t make a scene if you do. Now, if you will excuse me, it’s been a long few days. I’m going to bed.”

“Night,” Black called after him, the word hesitant.

“Sleep well, Severus,” Lupin offered more sincerely.

A shudder shot down his spine as soon as the door to his room was closed. He felt cornered with the two men there and not even the door to his room seemed enough to provide him space from them. Had Madam Gold not requested his presence, he would have been at his other hovel dreading the coming hearing. Just for the day, he told himself as he readied for bed. Then he could leave and never see the three of them again.

Harry’s curious expression filled his mind and he blatantly ignored the pang of regret. The boy was safe and well protected. After tomorrow, there would be no reason for him to ever interact with the boy until their paths crossed at Hogwarts.
Whatever dream he had been caught up in shattered at the sound of a child screaming. Instinct had him on his feet with his wand in hand before his senses caught up with him. He could hear movement in the spare room where the screaming had morphed into wails.

Exhaustion washed over him and he rubbed at his face. A glance at the digital clock told him they still had an hour before the sun rose at minimum, yet the thought of returning to sleep to only continue the dream made it very tempting to just start the day despite the early hour. The movement in the other room hadn’t completely stilled even as the crying died out. It wasn’t like he would be making much noise if he did stay up.

Slow feet padded from the spare room to the kitchen. His door opened with very little sound and he crossed to the kitchen on quiet feet. Black was filling the coffee pot with water which peaked his interest. He let the corner of the wall take his weight. “Has he been having nightmares every night?”

Black glanced at him shutting the water off. “Pretty much.” The man turned and poured the water into the tank to boil. “He sleeps through the night; just ends up waking us up at ungodly hours.”

He frowned. Black plucked the coffee filter and the coffee grounds from the cupboard. “Does he sleep much after?”

Black shrugged stuffing the filter into place. “Fitfully. Most of the time we just get up and get going and crash for a nap sometime after noon.” Black gave him a shrewd - and very tired - look. “If you’re going to want more sleep, here isn’t the best place for it.”

“You making enough to share?” cut through the beginnings of an argument as Lupin stepped around Severus.

It effectively deviated Black’s attention. “Usually do.”

Lupin went right for the mugs. “You joining us, Severus?”

Confusion pulled at his tired face. “Is that a genuine invitation or simple politeness?” he asked, the words sharper in his disbelief than he had intended.

“You don’t have to,” Black pointed out, sounding like he hoped Severus would leave them be.

Lupin glared at the man before turning a calm and surprisingly awake gaze onto Severus. “You are more than welcome to have some. There’s always a good mug and a half left in the pot once we’ve filled ours. Not to mention it is your coffee we’re using.”

He took his weight back. Despite the doubt of his presence being wanted, Lupin made a very good point. “Sure,” he offered finally and Lupin grabbed a third mug from the cupboard.

The barstool was cold but it was better than standing. He leaned his weight into the bar top counter behind the sink, watching as the two men danced clumsily around each other in the kitchen.

“Harry wake you, then?” Lupin finally asked as a hot cup of coffee was placed within reach.

He picked the mug up. “In a sense.”

Black gave a faint laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The coffee - black and still very hot - tasted as good as he remembered. He had forgotten about the grounds while keeping up appearances in the wizarding world. He was glad it was still fresh enough for them to use. The look of disgust on Black’s face as he drank it straight was almost as satisfying. “The dose of Dreamless Sleep Draught I took wasn’t strong enough. I was awoken from a very…” It hadn’t exactly been a nightmare but it certainly hadn’t been pleasant. “...a very off putting dream. I would most likely have woken on my own accord about this time had the boy not.”

“Do you take it often?” Lupin inquired, leaning against the counter by the sink.

He glared at Black when the man hopped up onto the opposite counter, ankles brushing against the lower cabinet doors. “I try and not take it every night. I and a small group of others have managed to create one that allows some dreaming to occur so what I am taking is far less harmful if taken regularly.”

Surprise crossed both their faces. If he wasn’t mistaken, he had just impressed them both. “Where’d you manage something like that?” Black asked, leaning forward. How he didn’t slip from the counter was beyond him.

He rolled his eyes, bringing the mug up to his lips again. “I’m a Potions Master for a reason, Black. Or did you forget that fact?” Honestly. Had Black been hit one too many times by the Confundus Charm?

Black glared at him. “Oh, sorry,” the man drawled with bared teeth. “I didn’t realize that would have been offensive, oh Great and All Knowing Snivellus.”

Lupin smacked the man upside the head with barely enough force to make sound but it caused Black to slip unbalanced from the counter. It was a miracle coffee didn’t go everywhere. “Don’t antagonize him this early in the morning. I do not have the patience for it regardless if he does or not,” Lupin berated. Black muttered something but hopped back up onto the counter, sulking. Those amber eyes turned to him with a neutral expression. “How did you manage to figure out how to counter the negative draws of long term Dreamless Sleep use? I thought many had tried and failed at adapting it due to its addictive nature.”

He lowered the emptier mug slowly to the countertop letting his gaze drift between the two men. “The addictive aspects are easy enough to eradicate,” he offered. “It’s the dream blocking aspect that is the challenge. It makes figuring out the right dosages for public use. Case in point: I’m still working on that part.”

When nothing came past their gaping maws, he picked up his mug and took another long drink.

“You’re testing it out on yourself?!” Black demanded, sliding off the counter again. The man took a step forward but whatever he had planned on doing or saying was cut off by Lupin. Lupin turned with a step forward, shoving a hand into the man’s chest. “Sirius, calm down.”

“Remus, you can’t seriously th-”

“I am just as appalled by the thought as you are, Sirius,” Lupin assured him, voice even and calm despite the hard look sent Severus’s way. Severus simply watched them. “But that doesn’t mean you need to leap at him for it.”

Black adjusted his stance enough to take his weight from Lupin’s hand muttering something too quiet for Severus to hear. If Lupin heard - and he most certainly did - the man didn’t comment on it. Instead, he turned to face Severus head on. “Are you testing the potion on yourself?”

Severus managed to maintain eye contact but just barely. “Only after it has been thoroughly tested by myself and numerous others. This particular batch is perfectly safe, simply finicky on the dosages.” His expression flatted and added before the two could get going again, “I am under dosing, you idiots.” He huffed into his coffee, grumbling, “Honestly. What do you take me for, a Hufflepuff?”

He had self-preservation, thank you very much.

Lupin must have concluded that on his own because the man relaxed even as Black riled himself back up. Unfortunately for Black, Lupin resumed the conversation. “How long until it can be released to the public?”

Severus wrapped his hands around the mug once it was back on the counter. “A few more years at least.” The loss of hope at the edge of Lupin’s expression shot confusion through him. “It’s still too strong in the normal vial sizes and there has been a request for child sizes to help with nightmares, trauma, or long hospital stays.” Oh. His expression closed off. “Unfortunately, I wouldn’t feel comfortable giving Harry any of what we have now, even if we could get the dosage right.”

Black clued in at that. “Do they even make child safe Dreamless Sleep?” the man half joked.

Severus shrugged. “Half a vial usually works for younger children but Harry is still too young for even that.” A bitter thought crossed his mind. It must have shown on his face because concern flittered in the other men’s expressions. “Until he has been checked over in a few hours, I don’t want to risk using anything with magic on the boy.”

“So that’s actually happening?” Black asked, looking from Lupin to him. “Remus had mentioned it but I hadn’t honestly believed you’d actually follow through.”

The man looked sheepish under both of their glares. Severus sighed, standing. He walked around the counter as he spoke. “I would say I’m surprised but after all the shit through school,” he shot a nasty glare at Black even as Lupin’s hand drifted towards him as if to keep him from fully approaching Black, “I’m not.”

Black glared right back but was kept from responding by Lupin speaking up. “And we are very grateful that you are willing to help Harry to such extents despite our shared history.” The werewolf shot the other man a glare as Black moved to say something and the man thought better of it. Lupin turned a much calmer and pleasant expression onto Severus. “You said nine, correct?”

He nodded. The rinsed mug clinked against the other clean dishes in the drying rack. “If not a few minutes earlier. Madam Gold is overly punctual at times.”

“Which gives us just over four hours,” Lupin commented. “Who wants breakfast?”

Despite the ungodly hour, both men agreed to breakfast.

The knock on the door seemed to amplify the unease that had filled the flat over the last hour. Black was on the floor of the living room with Harry playing with the blocks again. Lupin turned the water off at the kitchen sink and started to dry his hands on the dish towel he had draped over his right shoulder. Severus stood up from the couch where he had been scouring through the required documentation Dumbledore needed to allow him to teach potions at Hogwarts and answered the door.

Two people stood on the doorstep, one of whom was very familiar.

“Severus,” the familiar figure greeted, a gentle smile on the aged face. “It is so good to see you again.”

“And you, Madam Gold,” he returned politely and honestly. He stepped back, gesturing inside. Out of the corner of his eye he noted that Lupin and Black were standing near the far wall, Harry between them on Black’s hip. “I am glad you found your way without too much trouble.”

“Only trouble was the traffic,” Madam Gold chimed, amused. She glanced at one of the clocks. “Though it would seem we still ended up a touch early.”

He glanced at the same clock as he closed the door; it was only ten till. “We had just settled in to wait for your arrival so it’s nothing to be concerned about.” He stepped around the two figures. “Madam Gold, this is Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and young Harry Potter. Black, Lupin, this is Madam Gold, head of IPPA.”

Black frowned, shifting Harry higher up on his hip. “Ipuh?”

To Severus’s surprise, Lupin actually explained for him with a thoughtful expression. “It’s the common acronym for the International Population Protection Agency. Though their involvement here in England isn’t widely known. I doubt very many actually know what it is.”

Madam Gold offered with a tight smile, “That is in part due to how IPPA normally operates and largely in part due to your Ministry fighting us at every turn when we offered our services during the height of your second or so war against a Dark Lord.” The woman gave a large shrug, palms open to the ceiling. “Not that it mattered overly much to us. If you lot don’t want help aiding your citizens through messes like that, we’ll go help those that do want it.”

“I think I’m still missing something,” Black spoke up. “What exactly is IPPA?” Those dark colored eyes turned onto Severus. “And how did you get involved?”

Severus arched an eyebrow. Madam Gold answered for him. “IPPA is an organization made around the idea of protecting both magical and non-magical populations from the fallout of natural disasters and wars. Oversimplified: we’re a large relief organization, though there are some aspects that are in place to help neutralize confrontations, but that requires a bit more willingness from both sides.” The vicious grin that joined the latter half of that comment put everyone on edge. It vanished quickly enough but Severus was not surprised neither Black or Lupin relaxed. “Beyond that, our goal is to find a way to allow the magical and non-magical populations to continue a peaceful living while looking into how technology and magic both isolated and blended can benefit both sides.”

“Wait,” Black cut in again. “Isn’t that against every Statute of Secrecy on the planet?”

Madam Gold grinned again, this one jovial and less off putting. “You’d be surprised how easy that is to get around.” She looked to Severus, her curiosity evident on her expression. “You didn’t share much, did you?”

“I have been rather busy. This is only the second time in a week that I’ve actually been face to face with these men,” he offered easily enough. It wasn’t a complete lie.

The glint in her eyes told him she was well aware what that full truth was and he glared at her for it. Her curiosity split into an amused grin. “Leaving that to me wasn’t wise, Severus. Now you can’t control what they learn about you.”

He was well aware of that but having her point it out made him feel foolish. She focused on Lupin and Black, her expression professional. “I have with me Dr. Trill. They are well versed in both magical and non-magical pediatric medicine and will make sure young Harry Potter is nice and healthy.”

Dr. Trill stepped forward with a soft smile on their face. “If you want, we can do this on the couch.” The doctor looked to Severus. “You said in your letter that Harry was subjected to a severe curse?”

Severus looked to Madam Gold. She met his gaze but gave him no feedback. He looked to Lupin and Black in turn as the men moved to the couch and was surprised when it was Black who nodded to him. “He survived the Killing Curse.”

The raised eyebrows and glance at Madam Gold was the only sign of surprise and disbelief the doctor shared. Even with the impossibility, the doctor took the information in stride. “Now I understand the urgency and secrecy,” Dr. Trill offered in lieu of their silence. “Where was he hit?”

“The forehead, if the gash was anything to go by.”

Dr. Trill crossed to the couch where Black had settled with Harry. Remus stood at the end of the couch in an obvious attempt to stay close without crowding the doctor’s work.

“We removed the adhesive bandage this morning,” Black put in as the doctor used the coffee table as a seat.

Dr. Trill’s gaze went to the scar first, looking it over before meeting Harry’s steady gaze. “Hello, Harry. I’m Dr. Trill. I’m here to give you a check up and make sure you are all nice and healthy.” The words were spoken softly but that was probably more for proximity than anything else. Harry stared at the doctor. Dr. Trill smiled softly. “I am going to touch your head to look over your injury and ask your guardians some questions as I do so.”

Harry kept staring at the doctor. Black shifted in his seat. “Do kids his age understand you when you tell them that?”

“For the most part it helps to create a sort of connection.” Dr. Trill scooted closer. They cupped the right side of Harry’s face to steady the boy’s head as they started gingerly tracing the scarring through the hair. “Often I will ask if they understand but he’s younger than when I would expect a yes or no to that complex of a statement. Has the scarring been bothering him?”

“Not that we can tell,” Black answered. Severus settled in a dining chair, letting Black - and probably Lupin at some point - answer the doctor’s questions. Madam Gold sat across the table from him, settling to watch as well.

“Any bleeding or other discharge?”

“Only from the scabbed area. It scabbed over by morning after the incident.”

Dr. Trill hummed. Lupin shifted his weight, piping in, “Is it alright?”

Dr. Trill met the man’s gaze, pulling their hands from Harry’s head. The boy’s gaze snapped back to the doctor’s face. “From what I can see, it looks like it’s healing just fine but to know for sure I want to remove the hair from around the scarring.”

Black’s eyes got comically large. “Why?”

The doctor furrowed their brow slightly. “He still has healthy, thick hair in the affected area but I want to make sure there isn’t any damage being hidden by the hair. It can’t be done magically and I am ill equipped to do it myself today.”

Severus stood up. “I should have a straight razor and an electric one in the bathroom. If you are alright waiting the alloted time to cut his hair.”

The doctor nodded. “I am here on Madam Gold’s time today so I am available until she sends me off.”

Madam Gold chuckled at that. “Give the boy his haircut. You’re the only thing I had scheduled for the day.”

He returned with two different boxes. Black looked moderately stressed by the prospect. If Lupin was uncomfortable with the situation, he was doing a much better job at hiding it. “This seems a bit excessive,” Black voiced, glancing at Dr. Trill who had wandered over and taken Severus’s vacated seat. Severus noted Harry had stared staring at Madam Gold. She was meeting his gaze with an amused smile on her face.

Harry’s eyes were strikingly green compared to Madam Gold’s green, almost to the point of looking unnatural. But hadn’t Lily’s green eyes been just as strikingly green? Or had Lily’s been closer to Madam Gold’s?

“The doctor does have a point, Sirius,” Lupin tried as a way of soothing some of Black’s agitation. “No one has survived the Killing Curse before and giving Harry a haircut to guarantee we didn’t miss something seems like the least we can do for his health and safety.”

“You don’t even have to cut his hair,” Severus pointed out, setting the two boxes down on the coffee table before taking the doctor’s seat. “I’ll shave his head and you can just sit there and keep him entertained while I work.”

“You sure? I don’t mind doing it,” Lupin offered.

He popped open the electric razor and handed the man the end of the plug. “I’m already sitting here.”

Lupin took the plug and plugged it into the socket next to the couch. Black eyed the electric razor as if he didn’t trust it. Severus raised an eyebrow at him. “I take it you’ve never used one.”

Black glanced at Lupin who settled on the arm of the couch. “Not one like that.”

He looked to Lupin, curious. Lupin actually chuckled, offering, “We - me and Lily - were curious to see how James and Sirius would react to having to use one. Sirius managed far better than James, surprisingly enough, but it wasn’t the smoothest introduction to electric razors and there’s never been much need for him to use one since he favors a straight razor when not using magic.”

“Facial?”

Lupin nodded.

He focused back on Black. “This is like the one you used, just larger. And unlike your experience, I actually know how to use it well.”

That didn’t help Black’s distrust - regardless of if it was towards him or the electric razor - and he didn’t care. The one he needed to trust him was still staring at Madam Gold. Somehow she was entertaining the boy by holding his gaze. “Harry,” he spoke. The boy blinked and he took it that he had the boy’s attention. “Harry, I need you to look at me.” Those green eyes met his but the boy hadn’t turned his head back. Annoyance and discomfort prodded at him. He showed the electric razor. “I’m going to cut your hair with this. Turn and face me fully.”

The boy blinked. He waited for what felt like an excessive amount of time. When it seemed he would have to direct him again far less gently, Harry righted himself. He shook his head brushing the annoyance aside and turned the razor on.

He made quick work of the boy’s hair with the large electric razor but left stubble around the scar. He didn’t dare cut closer with the awkward electronic. He pulled out the straight razor from the other box and made sure to use plenty of the muggle shaving cream where he raked the blade between scarred skin.

When he finished, Harry was completely bald, the only hair left on his head being his eyebrows. The boy barely seemed to notice beyond the initial rub after Severus announced he was done. Dr. Trill walked back over as Severus repacked the razors.

The scarring was larger than Severus had first assumed. The worst of it was the thin, lightning bolt shaped gash on Harry’s forehead, the part that he had bandaged that first night. From there, the scar branched out in both directions like lightning reaching through storm clouds. A large portion of what had branched downward covered Harry’s left eye, the top of the cheek, and crossed over his nose. A thin branch touched the top of his lip but most of it looked as if it would become hard to see as the scarring healed. What had branched up reached back and branched out along the left side of Harry’s skull, stopping in line with the point of Harry’s ear. Dr. Trill felt along the scarring, a slight frown on their face.

“Do you know how large it was when he was hit with the curse?”

“The scarring on his face hasn’t spread,” Black offered, sounding unsure.

“I know it had branched into his hairline but I don’t remember how far in I followed it,” he stated evenly. He frowned. “Are you saying the scar may have grown?”

Dr. Trill shook their head. Their hands went rooting through pockets. “No. There is residual magic lingering in the scarring but if you haven’t noticed any growth, then I’m not concerned about it.”

“Residual magic,” Severus and Black parroted, though his comment was out of disbelief rather than the alarm Black had squawked his.

“It isn’t anything that is harming him but it does pose a mild threat until he turns three or so.”

“Why is that?” Lupin asked before he could.

The doctor draped the stethoscope across the back of their neck. “Well, until he’s three, his magic lines, magical network, whatever you wish to call the pathways that magic takes in our bodies- until his magic has filled those lines and has created a sort of immune system to foreign magics, magic used on him has the potential of agitating what damage is already there.”

“Then why not heal the damage?” Severus asked.

The doctor looked to him but their expression was nothing more than attentive curiosity. “His magic lines have yet to fully develop, which is perfectly normal. It’s why we tell parents to expect accidental magic after the age of three. Going in now to try and repair any damage would only create more damage. It’s not anything life threatening and it certainly won’t delay his growth in any way.” The doctor’s expression turned thoughtful. “Though it may affect hair growth. It might not get that long on that side or it may just make tracks in among the follicles but it shouldn’t cause baldness.” The doctor tugged the stethoscope off their neck, looking back at Harry. “What residual magic remains will fade with time. I suggest being on the safe side of things and not using any magic or magic containing products on him until his magic lines have reached that fully developed stage.” They offered the stethoscope to the boy when he didn’t stop staring at it. Harry immediately reached out, tiny hands tracing over every inch of the stethoscope. “I’ll list out a few muggle products you can use on his head that will help the scar fade as well as help his system clear out the residual magic. I also suggest that you cut his hair down this far once every four weeks or so. It should help encourage stronger hair follicles as well as let you care for the scarring and check it over during the coming months.”

“All of this until he’s three?” Black verified.

“Three’s the expected age but I have seen children have their magical lines fully develop younger than that. I can drop by every six months or so and check if you would like.” Dr. Trill glanced at Madam Gold. “From my understanding, it doesn’t seem like it would be that difficult of a thing to coordinate.”

Black opened his mouth but Lupin put a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. Lupin offered the doctor a soft smile. “We appreciate the offer. Is there a way to reach out and schedule those visits if we decide to follow through with that offer?”

Madam Gold spoke up in the doctor’s stead. “I’ll cover that bit if you are up to letting Dr. Trill finish young Harry’s physical. If you two are comfortable with Severus staying with Harry, we can start our conversation now so that we’re not imposing on your time for too terribly long.”

The two men shot him worried looks. He met both with a steady gaze. “It is up to the both of you. I already know what the discussion will be about, not that I won’t be able to hear you from here.”

Madam Gold smiled at them, amused. “While I am sure you are just as comfortable where you are at as I am, the only hiccup of you two staying over there is that you can’t look over the documents I have brought without someone playing messenger.”

Reluctantly both men made their way over to the table and joined Madam Gold. Severus took Black’s spot on the couch, half listening as he kept an eye on Dr. Trill and Harry.

Madam Gold started with an overview of the offer from IPPA in answer to Severus’s request for assistance. She went into detail how the offer could keep Harry and them safe by relocating Black, Lupin, and the boy to one of the North American blended communities and the safety procedures that would accompany the move. The offer included a house, jobs for the both of them, and public education for Harry once he reached school-age. There was even offered Early Childhood Education and Kindergarten classes before First Grade to help Harry acclimate to school life if they were interested. Most of it he already knew so the conversation at the table didn’t require any of his input until he was getting Harry back into his pants and shirt.

“But what of Severus?”

His head whipped around, shocked that it had been Black who had called him by his given name. Lupin he was half used to at that point but Black?!

Madam Gold looked from Lupin and Black to him. “There is work available for you at IPPA but, last I remember, you turned it down due to opportunities here.”

“And it would be the same if you offered it to me again,” he confirmed, confusion pulling a frown across his face.

For whatever reason, Black was having a hard time with that simple concept. “So you’re staying behind?”

He didn’t understand. “Of course I am. Or did Lupin forget to mention what I agreed to do so that the two of you could hide Harry away from prying eyes?”

That concerned frown didn’t ease off of Black’s face as the man looked back to Madam Gold, standing. “Excuse us for a minute. Remus, you too.”

Remus’s face showed the bewilderment Severus was feeling when Black crossed right to him and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to his feet away from the couch. “Black, what the bloody-”

“Be good for Dr. Trill, Harry. We’ll be right back,” Black called over his shoulder, not even sparring Severus a glance.

Lupin followed as Black dragged him into his own room. The man made him sit on the bed as Lupin closed the door.

“There is no way we’re just up and taking Harry away from you like that,” Black hissed at him.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem, Black,” he countered, the words sharp in his confusion. “I have given you a very lucrative opportunity that is costing you nothing.”

“Exactly!” Black threw his hands up. “And you don’t see it!” The man lowered his hands only to point one at Severus but the gesture was nothing more than Black talking with his hands. “Look. From what Madam Gold has told us, we’ve got a good few months here before we’ll be able to move. Come here between whatever tasks you go off and do and then decide that you don’t want to at least visit Harry once in a while. We’ll even make sure you have your own room and a dungeon if absolutely necessary.”

If his hunch about this was right, this had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Harry. He shook his head slowly, countering with caution, “Harry doesn’t need me. Even if I’m loath to admit it, he has two competent guardians in the both of you.”

“But you need him.” To his utter bewilderment, this was about him personally. He stared at Black completely lost. Black rolled his eyes, explaining, “I’m not taking Lily’s son away from you.” He tore his gaze away from Black. He had been vehemently ignoring that fact and now Black was shoving it in his face, taunting him with it. Black either didn’t notice or couldn’t stop. “Not after you’ve been the one to not only get him out of that house but assured his safety with people that would love and care for him. Please Severus.” He found his gaze snapping back to Black’s face at the sound of his name as a plea on Black’s tongue but it did nothing to cut through the defenses he had thrown up. “If not for your sake, then at least be around for Harry.”

“I’m not moving to America,” he stated, the words bitter and flat. Why was Black so adamant about this? What the hell had he missed in the last week, let alone the last few hours, that had Black looking out for him in this bizarre way?

“Not asking you to,” Black pointed out.

Lupin spoke up from near the door. “You could floo in on the weekends once school starts up and spend the majority of the holidays with us. You could take the holiday weekends and come back here if you needed to.”

Severus wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit or curse something. “Do you know how much of a hassle that is? And need I remind you long distance floo travel is not the most comfortable mode of transportation.”

Lupin shrugged. “Madam Gold spoke of having a work around for that when we were discussing the possibilities for when Harry got his Hogwarts letter, especially if Sirius and I have jobs in North America. It’s probably what prompted Sirius’s question, actually.”

It was another ten minutes of back and forth before Severus found himself getting backed into a corner, convinced on the matter but not wanting to be. A desperation he was not proud of had him snapping, "Why are you even pushing this? Not even a week ago you had been willing to curse me without a second thought and now you're acting as if you have my best interest in mind. After everything you put me through at school and you expect me to believe you had a change of heart in a week."

"They asked us to give you a chance."

Lupin's voice had been quiet cutting through the room as a stark reminder the other man was there. He hated that for a breath he had forgotten.

"What?" he bit out more as a statement than a question, unable to glare at the man like he wanted to.

"Lily and James," Lupin explained. "Before they went into hiding, they asked us to give you a chance. They spoke of how you were doing what you could to make amends for past mistakes, asking to mend bridges if they were willing. James was aware that you only truly intended to mend the bridges between you and Lily but he knew the only way for that to happen fully was to face what had happened at Hogwarts." There was a pause, as if Lupin needed a steadying breath to keep going despite appearing as calm and collected as ever. "So he asked us to give you a chance if you ever reached out. He spoke at length of how you had changed, were changing, and wanted to make sure we at least tried as well."

"So that's all that this is," he verified. "A favor for the dead."

"No!" Black cut in, sounding and looking appalled at the thought. "This is making sure you get what you deserve after everything you've done for us, for Harry! Even if J-James hadn't spoken up, we'd still be doing this!"

The crack on Potter's name shot awareness through him. Despite the week and the topic, two people had died barely a week ago and he highly doubted that was enough time to mourn anyone. He hadn't stopped long enough to even humor the idea of mourning Lily too busy trying to make amends and protect her son.

They spent another ten minutes on it before he finally gave in. In the end, there wasn't a good reason he shouldn't exploit the opportunity set before him, to make sure that the boy didn't get raised by Gryffindors alone. Even Harry seemed to prove their point as he crossed to the boy and Dr. Trill as Black and Lupin returned to their seats at the table. The boy looked right at him as he approached and dropped the toy he had been playing with in favor of reaching for Severus.

Had he been able to maintain his hardened heart against the world, he probably would have been able to ignore the way he gladly reached for the boy and probably would have managed to dump the boy into Black’s lap once he had moved to the table. Instead, he sat in a vacant chair and let Harry nestle against his chest, forehead against the side of his neck.

He would deny the fact that he wrapped his arms around the boy willingly, soaking up the trust and unconditional love young children were capable of showing between disasters.

Housing plans weren’t settled but the jobs were narrowed down by the time Madam Gold left. Dr. Trill had departed shortly after they had returned from the room and had returned briefly to drop off the documentation surrounding Harry’s check-up. While Black and Lupin were discussing the remaining job options, he read through the paperwork from the doctor. Near the bottom of the stack was the short list of non-magical substances they could use for Harry’s head. Muggles were still very resourceful when it came to their lack of access to magic and he was reminded of such as he read a few of the items and their uses. A number of them would be easy to find at the nearest supermarket. He would have to send Lupin if he couldn't manage it himself. He didn’t trust Black to recognize any of it but maybe over time...

“Severus?”

He blinked, bringing his head up. Exhaustion gnawed at him like he had taken a nap he hadn’t intended to take. Lupin was standing next to him, patiently waiting for him to gather himself. He was shocked to find Harry still on his chest, still tightly tucked up under his chin where the boy had chosen to settle. The boy’s back was rising and falling slowly indicating he was still sound asleep; explained why Lupin’s call of his name had been so gentle.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

He frowned at that, glancing at one of the clocks. It was going on five in the afternoon. “I can leave before then.”

Amusement pulled a smile onto Lupin’s face and he hated it. “That’s not what I asked. Are you staying for dinner? I think the plan was spaghetti because it was easy but we can always order out or make something else if you’d rather.”

The part of his brain that was still asleep finally clued in on what Lupin was getting at, of the conversation the three of them had shared hours prior - of the promise to at least try living together in short bursts for Harry's sake and his. “Oh. No, spaghetti is fine.”

He wasn’t sure what plans he had made after the chaos that followed Madam Gold’s arrival and he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to remember them. It could all wait until morning and if not, damage control worked just as well.

Lupin wandered back into the kitchen where Black was already working, the tap running at the kitchen sink. The pair of them talked in low voices. Fragments of words and the occasional sentence drifted towards him as he watched. For a brief, unconscious moment, he was content with the idea of never truly being alone in his own home again.
He could not wait to have the flat all to himself again.

Black flopped down on the couch so close, the man nearly sat on him; Black’s entire side pressed against his. “So,” the man draped an arm over his shoulders, a shit eating grin on that smug face that was far too close, “how’d you manage to get roped into IPPA?”

“Get off me,” he growled, shoving at the man. All it gained him was Black’s arm off his shoulders. A week - barely a fucking week - and already the man was doing his best to test every single one of Severus’s boundaries, a constant contradiction to the man’s desire for him to remain in Harry’s life at the start of the week.

Lupin’s voice drifted over the sound of running water from the kitchen sink. “Leave him be, Sirius.”

Black’s grin shifted to Lupin without missing a beat. “Aw, come on, Moony. I’m not doing anything.”

Severus caught the movement at the sink stilling out of the corner of his eye and looked over in time to see the glare Lupin sent the man.

Black was up and walking away from the couch as if Lupin had set the seat of his pants on fire. “I’m up,” the man proclaimed, hands in the air. “I’m up.”

The movement at the sink resumed and Severus returned to the paperwork before him, most of it for the teaching course he was taking. It was a self led certification and, while it seemed excessive, he had yet to find it pointless which had to count for something. It swallowed him easily enough, taking his attention away from the others for a handful of minutes.

“I am curious to know as well,” accompanied the clinking of a tea cup against its saucer as it was placed on the coffee table before him. He looked up, finding Lupin’s curious gaze on him. “About how you ended up in IPPA.”

“It is not some fanciful tale, if that is what you are wondering,” he offered in lieu of a proper answer as Black walked back in. The man was dragging a wash cloth over his jaw and throat freshly shaven. “And nothing like being recruited by the Dark Lord.”

Lupin sat down at the other end of the couch, a mug nestled between water worn hands. “I would hope not. Madam Gold seems like a reasonable witch.” Lupin met his incredulous gaze with patience and ease, that curiosity still ever present. “After everything, you can’t blame us for wanting to know. Especially since we are being actively recruited into the organization.”

Irritation rolled through him but it gave easily under the obvious truth, not to mention telling them now allowed him to control what they learned rather than whatever they would find once employed. “They had a booth at the Magic and Greater Evocations Expo I attended shortly after entering the Potions Mastery program. Madam Gold had been present for one of the talks I had participated in and stopped me as I passed the IPPA booth sometime after.”

Black spoke up. “I thought the MAGE Expo stopped before we entered school.” The man looked between him and Lupin, apparently startled by his disbelief and Lupin’s surprise. “What? I’m from an old family. The MAGE Expo was a big deal.” Black’s expression darkened. “And not always in a good way.”

“They shifted from bi-annual to every five years,” Severus informed him calmly. “The next one is being held in Africa, though the exact date and location has yet to be announced.”

“Will you be attending?” Lupin asked.

He shrugged, picking up the tea cup. “It is solely dependent on what the main focus is and whether or not I’m able to travel. I do start teaching next year and that makes attending near impossible save for the few weeks during the holidays, Dumbledore’s permission and finding a suitable substitute notwithstanding.” The air gained a strange weight as he took a long drink. The silence that had fallen remained as he placed the cup back on its saucer and he looked to the other men, raising an eyebrow. After a moment he prompted, “Anything else?”

“So that was it?" Black asked. "You got hired at a MAGE Expo?”

“Not quite.” He plucked a new packet of paper off the coffee table and sat back. He met Black’s gaze. “She encouraged me to apply to IPPA’s Development of Technologies and Magics department once I had my Mastery but I never did.”

“Why?”

He gave the man a flat look. “The war had just begun and I was already branded a Death Eater. While I was trying to stay alive under his reign, the rest of my time was spent working as a Potions Master at the Ministry or for other institutes like St. Mungo’s.”

“Severus,” he looked to the werewolf, “did you ask IPPA or Madam Gold for help?”

He shook the pages straight; belatedly he noted they hadn’t needed it. “I was not about to jump through the insanity of IPPA regulations and delay hiding Harry.”

Lupin and Black shared a look over his head.

“So that’s it?” Black questioned, sounding annoyed. “You don’t actually apply for the job and instead ask the head of the company for a favor?”

Annoyance rolled through him. “I still work for IPPA. Just like any other organization, they outsource for skills and resources they don’t have. The Dreamless Sleep Draught project is organized and sponsored by IPPA despite the work happening at the Ministry. At the end of the day, it is IPPA, not the Ministry, that pays me.” This time he didn’t care that the pages were already straight. He snapped the stack again as he glared at the pages rather than Black. “And I asked Madam Gold for a favor because we have worked together before and I could trust her to be discreet.”

“Some favor,” Black muttered before turning the conversation to something Severus had no desire to participate in.

Somehow the weeks slid by under his nose and the day of the hearing arrived far quicker than he cared for. He found himself wide awake two hours before his alarm with no desire to try and go back to the fitful sleep he’d come out of. An hour later, he jumped when a hand landed on his bicep. The mug of cold coffee had somehow managed to hold his unfocused attention so absolutely that he hadn’t heard Black leave the second bedroom. The man looked as sleep deprived as he felt. Black gave him a sheepish look around the tired. “Sorry. Was trying to see if you wanted a fresh cup. You look like you could use coffee in your system rather than as a mirror.”

He gave a huff of a laugh as he pushed the cold mug to Black but didn’t comment. He knew the man was trying to ease his stress but there was no helping that. A fresh mug of coffee was placed before him on the bar top what had to have been minutes later but felt like seconds. Droplets of water clung to the side of the mug; Black must have rinsed it out before refilling it. Black’s words drifted in with it. “Here.” There was a pause before, “Think you could manage to eat something?”

He took a sip of the black coffee. He made a face at it. “I don’t even want the coffee,” he offered in lieu of an answer.

Black understood anyway. “Toast it is.”

Black put the pieces of bread before him: two for him and two for Black, all of them golden brown. Black stood at the counter next to the sink and put grape jelly on both of his pieces. Severus picked up one of the plain pieces but only managed a small bite of the corner. Black sat down beside him once everything was put away and picked up a jelly-coated piece. “Do you know what you’re wearing?” the man asked before taking a large bite.

He gave Black a dark look. He had done that the previous night in an attempt to sooth his nerves - it had done nothing of the sort. “Of course.” It felt odd to just leave it there. “Do you?” he retaliated, words sharper than necessary.

Black shook his head, seemingly unbothered by his gruffness. “I haven’t figured out if I want to wear the green shirt or the red one. I’d much prefer the red one but it’s the wrong shade of red. I do have a blue one that’s a better shade and it’s a better style than the green one but I’m not sure if I want to pass up the opportunity to make a statement.”

“A statement?” he found himself asking over the rim of his mug, mildly interested. It wasn’t like coaxing him to talk was making Severus’s mental state any worse and for whatever reason the man beside him was making small talk all on his own.

“Yeah, a Gryffindor showing up in Slytherin colors,” Black chimed happily, striking some pose with half eaten toast still in hand.

He snorted, putting his mug down. Gryffindors. “If it was that blue shirt Lupin washed last week, I suggest the blue one. I’d rather not cause half of the audience to have heart attacks because you walk in looking like the Slytherin you were supposed to be.”

Black shoved at him with no real force, grinning. “Spoilsport. Taking away the only fun I’ll have all day.”

Severus shook his head as he picked up his other piece of toast. “You asked my opinion and that is my opinion. Last I checked, you are free to make whatever stupid decisions you want. Just don’t associate yourself with me when they blow up in your face.”

Black laughed at that. It wasn’t loud - if he had to guess, Harry and Lupin were still both sound asleep - but it was full and for whatever reason eased some of the tension he was bearing. “Sweet.” The man took a long swig of coffee before asking, “What about you? What are you wearing?”

He swallowed the bite in his mouth and chased it with coffee before he answered. “My Potions Master robes. A show of my usefulness if they keep me out of Azkaban.”

That immediately dampened the lighthearted mood Black had managed to create.

Black touched his arm and he was proud when he managed to suppress the flinch. Severus met the man’s gaze as Black shifted forward on the barstool. “You’re not going to Azkaban, Severus,” Black informed him with such certainty, Severus could almost believe him.

“We’ll see,” he said instead, refusing to give into the Gryffindor hope.

During the hours up to the hearing time felt like it dragged but as he stood before the doors to the courtroom, it felt like that mundane conversation over toast and coffee had happened mere moments prior. Dumbledore stood at his side in violently purple and yellow robes, a stark opposite to the Potions Master robes that were predominantly black accented with white, gold, and silver. The contrast between them was dizzying.

“Don’t worry, my boy,” Dumbledore assured him. “Everything will work out in the end.”

“What is it with Gryffindors and their blind faith?” he muttered in turn, agitated.

Dumbledore smiled as the doors opened. “What else is there to do but take a leap of faith?”

His tongue remained lead in his mouth at the sight of the full room, destroying any chance he had at responding.

Shock. He was fairly certain he was in shock as he stepped out of that horrible room. They had read off the charges against him and given him a sentence that had frozen him down to his core. Even Dumbledore’s pleading on his behalf seemed feeble in comparison and would amount to nothing as his sentence was discussed and then voted on.

He had been let go by one vote in his favor.

Someone was calling for him. He hadn’t actually heard anything but he knew someone had said his name. He looked around unsure if it would do any good. The hallway was still full as some of the audience rotated out. Movement at the edge of his peripheral countered the ebb and flow of the crowd around him and he looked over, drawn to see as he was certain someone called for him again.

Black was practically jogging towards him with a grin on a paled face; the blue shirt was vibrant against that paled skin, a contrast to the sleeveless robe of green velvet that looked almost black. He clamped down on his control, forcing his body steady as the other man came to a stop just within reach. He was too tightly wound to flinch when Black’s hands grasped at his upper arms. There was a vague sense of confusion when Black didn't let go. It was easy to know the touch was purposeful but he couldn’t figure out to what extent. There was no joking in the other’s expression and the grip was firm with intent. Maybe Black was just as unsteady as he was and simply seeking some sort of stability.

If it was stability Black needed, he was looking for it in the wrong place. Severus wasn’t even sure how he was still standing at that point. He couldn’t even hear the man’s voice despite clearly seeing Black’s mouth move.

The world moved without his consent and when it settled, he found his face pressed into Black’s chest. That confusion wasn’t vague anymore. A part of him wanted to recoil, to shove the other away but it couldn’t gain any traction as he realized what Black was doing. The conflict in his own thoughts drowned out the world as his body reacted without his permission, seeking what Black was willingly giving.

Outside the courtroom where his life as he knew it had nearly ended, Severus had a death grip on the back of Black’s robes as the man held him just as tight. It was the first real hug he had received in far too long and he hated how desperately he needed it.

When Black took a step back, Severus was surprised his legs remained under him. “Come on,” Black coaxed as the noise of the hallway grew again. Another session must be letting out. “Let’s get back home before someone tries to talk to us for three hours about the weather.”

The lame joke coaxed a halfhearted huff of a chuckle out of him as he gladly fell into step beside Black. They wound their way through the Ministry and despite knowing he would be back eventually, he was looking forward to being home and not seeing those halls again until he had to.

The weeks up to the last day of December were a blur.

A large portion of those weeks were filled with Black and Lupin touring potential homes and neither man had let Severus avoid it. After viewing what felt like a staggering number of houses across the small handful of communities in the Americas, Black and Lupin settled on one in the blended community associated with IPPA’s North American Headquarters. Despite them dragging him along, it had surprised him when it had been his input that had tipped the scale for the given home. As much as he understood it was per their agreement, it was still very much Black and Lupin’s home, not his.

On top of the move, Severus suddenly had to scramble to be prepared to teach the coming spring semester - Slughorn wasn’t returning after winter break and Severus didn’t care enough to know why. It quickly became apparent that Black was shit when it came to helping him prep but Lupin was the miracle he needed. Severus would have been fine preparing on his own - probably - but Lupin kept him from getting too overwhelmed with everything he had to do, not that it stopped a few bouts of him muttering curses at an absent Dumbledore. Black was good at making sure the two of them ate and keeping an eye on Harry during the thick of it between house viewings.

The last day of December was cold and overcast but the flat was as warm as it always was. Severus stood with Harry on his hip, slowly running his fingers through the boy’s hair as he watched Lupin and Black double check their list. Idly his thoughts went to the letter that had arrived earlier that day. He had left it on his desk to deal with later but it pulled at him, especially since he knew what it contained and he wanted to sign it and be done with it as soon as possible. He would have to see if Phillip could get him in over the next three days. Best to get that dealt with as soon as possible as well.

“Looks like we’re good to go,” Lupin finally announced, tucking the slip of paper into an inner pocket. The man’s words drew him back to center. “You sure you’re ok with not coming with us, Severus?”

He nodded, passing Harry off to Black. The boy whined in protest but didn’t actually fight them. Severus carded his hand through Harry’s hair one last time as he reminded them both, “I am not following you two across the ocean only to come back. I have too much work to do before I relocate to Hogwarts to spend numerous days traveling.”

Amusement and something that looked almost like disappointment pulled a soft smile to Lupin’s face. “If you’re sure.” Lupin looked to Black. “Ready?”

“More or less.”

Severus rolled his eyes, amusement and annoyance carrying in his words. “Get going, you two, or you will be late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Black responded, picking up one of the bags in his free hand.

Severus opened the door, allowing the man to slip by but Lupin paused just over the threshold with the other bags. Those amber eyes met his gaze, expression unreadable. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Eventually,” he surmised, not willing to actually commit to anything.

“Take care, Severus.”

He watched them leave. Harry held his gaze over Black’s shoulder until they turned the corner and were out of sight. He remained on the doorstep for a moment longer than necessary before stepping back into the quiet flat. There was some relief having the space all to himself again but he knew it would be odd for the rest of the day. Not that it mattered; tomorrow when he exited the flat, he would not be returning. His other place was closer to his work until he started at Hogwarts.

“So you didn’t tell them.”

He pulled his gaze from the window to look at Phillip. The man was rapidly tapping a pen to the top of his notebook but there was no judgment in the other’s expression. The man was mostly curious and the tapping unconscious. “There is no need for them to know,” he stated simply.

The pen stilled. “Why?”

His gaze hardened. “Because they don’t need to know. They know enough.”

“But you are looking to stay in Harry’s life.”

“That is the intent.”

Phillip pointed the pen at him as the man talked with his hands. “Then wouldn’t it be beneficial to inform them just what you’ve agreed to?”

“No.”

Phillip snorted. Severus glared at him. “No, you’re right. That was unprofessional,” the man agreed, though the smile was still very present on the man’s face. “But you do have to admit how amusing it is that you are choosing to be stubborn about this aspect of your life after having opened your own home to them.” He didn’t give Phillip the satisfaction of a response. The other man sighed, asking instead. “Can we at least be willing to admit you are being stubborn about this?”

“I can leave,” Severus threatened.

“You can,” Phillip agreed, a knowing glint in the man’s eyes, “but you won’t. You never do.” The man raised an eyebrow, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air between them.

Severus only glared at the man. He was not doing this. Oh, he was very aware of the fact that even if he walked out of that office, he would be back for their next session as was expected of him. The contract he had signed had been explicit about its requirements concerning mental health; sessions with a therapist had to happen regularly. The only way he had gotten away with it for the last two months was because-

“When will you receive the new contract?” Phillip asked, bringing the silence to an end.

“It arrived the same day they left.”

“And?”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what?”

Phillip rolled his eyes but some form of excitement remained in the man’s expression. “Did you have any qualms with it? Concerns?” That knowing glint returned. “Annoyances?”

His expression flattened. “There was nothing in there I was not already privy to, so no. I signed and returned it that same afternoon.”

The surprise in the man’s expression was subtle. “And you're sure you don’t want to inform Black or Lupin of its contents?”

“Very.”

That only caused concern to pull at Phillip’s expression. “Severus, I know what was in that contract. Madam Gold made sure I saw it and the original version she had broken for you back on November 3rd. I know the differences and what exactly you signed up for. If you truly want to be part of Harry’s life, that means you have to afford his guardians some fair warning should things go awry. There will come a time when you are needed.”

“And when the time comes they need to know, I will inform them. Until then, there is no need for them to know.”

“Severus-”

He cut in before the man could get going again. “Enough. Wasting what little time we have left on something that will not change will serve no one. I would much rather utilize the time than needlessly waste it.”

Surprise filled Phillip’s expression. “Well this is a first. I take it you have something specific you want to talk about?”

Severus turned the topic to the chaos of teaching prep, ranting about Dumbledore for a good amount of the remaining time.

The sharp sound of squealing children greeted him as he stepped foot in the gymnasium. He could make out Black in among a swarm of children at the far end and a sneer pulled across his face for a moment; Lupin was near the door at one of the tables with his own small gaggle of children, another parent two chairs away helping keep tabs on those eating. All of the children had a plate before them, most slowly eating as they were enraptured by the story Lupin was reading to them. There were a number of other parents mingling and entertaining small groups of children but he didn’t recognize any of them.

Harry was among the gaggle sitting before Lupin enjoying a plate of grapes as he listened to Lupin’s story. The boy’s attention was on him at the same time he spotted Harry and from one instance to the next, Harry was running over to him, delight on the small boy’s face. Severus scooped the boy up, hefting the now three-year-old onto his hip. The boy happily hugged him, forehead pressed against his neck.

“Severus,” Lupin greeted, approaching. A glance showed the other parent had taken over the story. “Glad you were able to make it.”

He passed Lupin one of the bags in his other hand. “I had made a promise to make an appearance; though it had not been my intention to be so late.”

“Work?” Lupin asked, placing the bag on the food table.

The sneer returned briefly. “Unfortunately. The imbeciles at the Ministry are doing their best to blow themselves and the rest of the building up as quickly and as ferociously as possible.”

Lupin chuckled. “We’re just entertaining the kids at this point so you are more than welcome to stay for as long as you want and then either go to the house or return to London.”

Harry’s arms tightened around his neck but he gave no sign that he noticed. “I’ll see how long I can tolerate the snot nosed brats before heading to the house. I am not returning to London until I absolutely have to.”

That piqued Lupin’s interest. “That’s good to hear. I’m sure Harry’s very happy to have you around for more than a random weekend once a month.” The man gently tickled said boy, gaining a string of giggles, but the boy kept his face against Severus’s neck. “And I’m sure Sirius will appreciate having someone else watch over him while he works. Do you know when you are heading back?”

“The 23rd if you two don’t kick me out sooner.”

Black’s voice joined the conversation as the man approached, joking, “And I was just getting used to you being gone.” The man grinned at him when he gave the other a flat look. “We’re not overly prepared for your mooching so we’ll have to do a grocery run either today or tomorrow.”

The gaggle Black had left behind swarmed the three men destroying any opportunity for Severus to return the slight with one of his own. Severus quickly extracted himself from the swarm. The other children - those that had been eating and the scattered few that had been entertaining themselves or with other parents - quickly joined the swarm as Black started announcing something Severus didn’t care to listen to. He knelt, sitting Harry in the boy’s chair at the table. Little hands refused to let go but he carefully reached back and undid the boy’s grip. “You cannot open your gift if you are clinging to me.”

The comment didn’t seem to sooth whatever worry the boy had but Harry didn’t try grabbing for him when he released those small hands. He placed the remaining bag on the floor and pulled out a neatly wrapped gift. The wrapping paper was yellow with different, mostly green cartoon dinosaurs printed on it. He tapped the paper with his wand, activating the charm. The dinosaurs started to move about and Harry watched transfixed. One of the predators stopped to look up at Harry, giving off a silent roar as a few of the other dinosaurs pulled a banner across the paper with ‘Happy Birthday Harry’ written in crayon. The images stilled as the banner came to center, the patterned paper relatively unchanged except for the small square around the banner. Harry ran his fingers over the banner and surrounding dinosaurs.

Brilliantly green eyes looked up at him, searching his face. The hand splayed over the banner patted the paper.

He reached forward and Harry’s hand snatched away from the gift. Severus double tapped the predator dinosaur that was still looking at Harry. “Roaring dinosaur,” he spoke and as he drew his hand back, the predator dinosaur roared again as those around the banner waved.

Harry’s face lit up and the boy mimicked his tapping, muttering, “Roaring dinosaur,” with impressive clarity. Harry bounced in his chair, excitement pulling a squeal that went unnoticed by everyone else. Harry pressed his hand back over the banner, a massive smile on his face when he looked back up at Severus.

Severus gave a breathy chuckle before pointing out, “You do realize your gift is inside the fancy paper.” Harry’s gaze returned to the paper but instead of that delight remaining, Severus watched the boy’s expression morph into something that confused and concerned him. Certainly the prospect of a gift was a good thing so why was the boy upset? For a moment, he didn’t understand until he noticed Harry running a hand over the banner and the surrounding dinosaurs, predator dinosaur included. “Harry,” he coaxed. The boy didn’t look up at him but he did still. “Look at me.”

Ever since he had pulled the boy from the Potter’s ruined home, Harry had a strange aversion to looking at people. Or he stared. There was no in between and though Severus never quite understood why, he had noticed that if he gave the boy time, Harry would look at him. He wondered if Black or Lupin had noticed.

Harry’s gaze met his, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Do you want help undoing the paper so that it doesn’t tear?”

The boy shoved the gift towards him, bouncing in his seat as he did so. There wasn’t much change in Harry’s expression but Severus knew that would happen once the boy had the unwrapped gift in hand. He sat down on the gymnasium floor before taking the gift. “Do you want me to show you how to undo the paper carefully?” This time he gained a nod. “Then you need to sit in my lap. It will be harder to see from there.”

Harry was out of the chair and in his lap before he finished talking, curling up against his chest and stomach seeking comfort more than instruction. He buried his free hand in Harry’s hair. It was an awkward one arm hug but Harry didn’t seem to care. He relaxed into it, settling against Severus calmer than the moment before. He placed the package in Harry’s lap. “We’ll start with the end,” he directed, letting the boy do all the work as he guided those small hands among the folds of the paper.

Black had been just as excited about the gift as Harry had been upon opening it, which meant that by the time they were winding down from dinner, the man was sitting at the coffee table with Harry helping put together the different balsa wood dinosaurs.

“Work or something else?” Lupin asked, joining him at the island. They could hear Harry chatting away, a string of dinosaur facts that didn’t seem to have an end coming from the three-year-old.

He consolidated his mess, making room for the other at the counter and the two cups of tea the man had brought over. “Minor paperwork that can wait.” A lie, but Lupin didn’t need to know that. He pulled his cup closer. “I had not realized Harry had so many friends.”

“He doesn’t.” A glance at the other confirmed the concern in Lupin’s voice. “Sirius invited Harry’s entire class because it was a good excuse to entertain. Gave me the chance to meet some of the parents only Sirius has interacted with.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at that, lowering his cup. “What did Harry say about the large party?”

Lupin chuckled at that. “Not much. He gave us a nod confirming that he was ok with it but that was about it. Never said anything for or against it in the weeks leading up to it. Even heard from Sirius that the other kids seemed more excited for Harry’s party than Harry.” Some of the man’s amusement ebbed. “But, then, Harry has always been a bit calmer compared to the other kids. Quieter.”

“He’s not quiet now,” Severus pointed out.

Lupin actually laughed at that. “Oh he’ll talk your ear off if you give him the opportunity to. Dinosaurs have been the main focus for six months now; he’s been handling the long, complicated names surprisingly well for his age. I meant in general. He had been invited to one of the other kid’s birthday parties two weeks ago and part of the day had been spent at the museum. He seemed more excited to see the dinosaur exhibits than the actual party but even then he barely talked.” Severus frowned at that, gaining a soft smile from the other. “He gave the initial bouncing and squealing that was expected upon reaching the museum but once we entered, he barely made a peep. The other kids were loud and rambunctious, quickly growing bored with the exhibits. Harry, though, was content to wander them and have me read the displayed information for each exhibit.”

“Did he hang out with any of the other children?”

“There were a few that actively sought him out and dragged him off but, of his own volition, I don’t think so. But, then, I was only there for the museum. Sirius met us at the second party location so that I could go to work but he never said anything about it afterwards.”

Their conversation was interrupted by tiny feet smacking against the hardwood and they both looked towards the sound. Harry came barreling in with one of the balsa wood dinosaurs held tight against his chest beaming. Sirius was following after carrying the other two.

“I’m surprised he managed to make all three of them so quickly,” Lupin commented twenty minutes later, Harry asleep upstairs with the three models proudly displayed on his dresser.

Black laughed at that, settling at the other end of the couch Severus was occupying. “Not sure that counted as quick, Moony. It took us nearly four hours to put those things together.” Severus gave the feet resting on his thigh a flat look before pushing the man’s legs away. Black grinned at him but shifted to prop his feet up on the coffee table instead. “So, what big project do we have to thank for your presence over the next few weeks? Anything interesting?”

He brought his glass of firewhiskey to his lips. “Am I not allowed to simply take a holiday?”

Silence met his statement. He took a slow sip of his drink, watching as the men shared a look.

It wasn’t until his glass touched the end table again that Black spoke. “Well, you are."

“Why here?” Lupin inquired, his voice lacking the disbelief Black’s had been filled with. “You never seemed particularly fond of staying here over the last year and a half.”

He waved off the men’s worry. “This house is far more preferred than a school full of children, the company within less so.”

Black snorted at that. “So you’ve been more avoiding us than the house.”

Severus gave the man a flat look, pleased the idiot took the bait. “While Lupin I can tolerate, it’s the mangy mutt that I can’t stand.”

Black glared right back but there was a smirk on the other man’s face and he wasn’t surprised when the heel of the man’s left foot connected with his thigh again. There was no real force behind the kick but he still swatted at Black’s ankle for the act. “Asshole.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, deadpanning, “My point.”

Black snorted a laugh.

“If there’s anything you need for your stay, Severus, just mention it, even if that's the house to yourself for a day or two,” Lupin spoke up, amused. “There are a number of muggle and magical shops around so we shouldn’t have a problem acquiring what you may need. Alone time, less so.”

He made a vague gesture. "Had I wanted solitude, I would have stayed in London. I am here fully expecting Harry to obliterate any chance of peace for the entirety of my stay. I made my decision because of that expectation. It has been far too long since I've spent time with the boy. As for your other concern, I brought what I needed from Hogwarts. And unless someone-” he gave Black a pointed look- “has gone through my room as of late and destroyed my property,” Black gave him a cheeky grin clearly still not regretting that particular prank, “I should still have plenty here as well.”

“He’s been kept on a short leash,” Lupin assured him, gaining a squawk of outcry from Black at the jab.

“Not you too, Moony,” Black all but whined.

Lupin gave Black a mildly surprised look. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Padfoot.”

Severus snorted at Black’s groaning, the grown man slumping further into the couch. With every flare of dramatics the man could muster in the horribly slouched position, Black threw his arms up, declaring with barely contained laughter, “Betrayed! By my only friend! Snape I expected but you, Remus? How could you?”

It had been a joke, a jest, yet even as he gave a low chuckle at it, the words seemed to reach deep within and tug at things he had buried for good reason. His amusement vanished immediately and it was all he could do to keep his expression neutral and light. He reached for his glass again trying to solely focus on it and the conversation that continued without him but it did nothing to counter the growing noise in his head.

Memories that had no right seeing the light of day again were suddenly in his face, dragging his attention away from the conversation. Not even the burn of the remaining alcohol in his glass worked.

Because Black was right. He would betray them. He had already betrayed them, had betrayed them in so many ways it was criminal. Why either man was even allowing him near Harry was beyond him.

Something heavy landed on his thigh just above his knee and the hand holding his glass recoiled as if to grab for his wand. His entire body went rigid as he met Black’s gaze. The man’s face was a good foot away but it felt as if the man had pinned him to a wall. Black was half kneeling on the cushion that had been between them, one hand on Severus’s leg, the other on the back of the couch for stability. The man started talking before Severus could manage his normal sneer.

“Hey. That wasn’t-” The pause in the words was sharp. “I didn’t mean it like that, Severus,” the man urged. “We trust you.”

He couldn’t get his expression to return to neutral, his heart still pounding in his chest. “If you say so.”

Hurt flickered across Black’s expression quickly replaced by anger. “Of course I say so!” the man barked. “You’ve done everything in your power to help Harry and not once has it put his life or ours in danger.” He waited for the 'yet' to be added but it never came and he watched as some of the anger died on Black’s face. “You have not betrayed us.”

The desire to counter Black’s words nearly broke through his control. He wanted to yell, to scream at them both to leave him behind already. They thought he wouldn't betray them when he was the one that had practically handed Lily and Potter over to the Dark Lord by repeating a partial prophecy after all he had done to mend the bridge between him and Lily. He had betrayed Black and Lupin in so many ways so many times and they would never know - not until it was too late - and they would never believe his warnings no matter how hard he screamed. Gryffindors trusted blindly and the Slytherin in him raged at the notion.

“Alright,” he offered instead, the word clipped and tight as he looked away to set his glass back down.

He pretended to busy himself with something on the end table so that he didn’t have to see whatever flickered over Black’s face. It didn’t matter anyways; this arrangement was temporary and neither man was going to change that. He would make it temporary so that they couldn't be betrayed by him. He wouldn't do that to Harry a second time.

For a breath, no one else moved. The touch on his leg left but he felt the slight shift in the cushions telling him Black hadn’t moved back to his original spot. Instead, the man settled on the cushion that had been between them, sitting close enough that he could feel the heat coming from Black’s thigh despite the inches between them. He hated it, hated how he read far too much into it, assuming things of Black's close proximity that weren't real.

Black trusted him and showed that by remaining close; Black was comforting him after an error the other man had made. Both were lies and he knew it. Gryffindors never care about Slytherins.
Distractedly he cleared the table from breakfast. They had stayed up talking until the early hours of the morning, Black nodding off as he and Lupin discussed the latest teaching strategies. In the light of the morning, he was annoyed with just how impressed he had been when Lupin had scooped Black up with ease and had put the man to bed when they parted ways. The man was a werewolf; he would be incredibly strong no matter the moon phase.

There was a round of knocks on the front door dragging him out of his thoughts. Severus slowly set the handful of dirty silverware down before crossing to the front door. The water turned off behind him signaled that Lupin had heard the disturbance as well. He opened the door, finding a shaggy man he did not recognize on the doorstep. It was clear the man hadn’t been expecting him either. The man’s bewildered hesitation allowed him the first word and he was more than happy to take it. “Can I help you?”

“Ah, yeah,” the man started out, the words stilted in the man’s surprise. “I was- is Remus Lupin home?”

“Hello Marcus.” Lupin came to Severus’s side still drying his hands. Severus took a step back, opening the door wider. “I wasn’t expecting you until this evening; is something wrong?”

“No, nothing wrong,” the man spoke, eyes falling to Severus again. Severus raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. Marcus jabbed a thumb in his direction as he met Lupin’s gaze again. “Who’s the shadow?”

“Severus, another IPPA employee and a friend. Severus, this is Marcus Ilhaus, the other werewolf in the community.”

“One of two others now, actually,” Marcus corrected, looking sheepish. “It’s actually why I’m here. New one moved in late last night and Klement wants you to welcome the newcomer and give them the tour before tonight’s gathering.”

Lupin’s expression flattened. “Of course he does.” Lupin turned his gaze to Severus, asking, “Do you mind finishing the dishes? Unfortunately this takes priority.”

He dipped his head in confirmation, asking, “What do you want me to tell-” it didn’t matter if he was deliberately using the man’s name; his control over his expression nearly slipped as the name leaving his mouth tried to pull a sneer to his face out of sheer habit- “Sirius when he inevitably asks after your absence?”

Lupin passed him the hand towel, shoes already in hand. “Just let him know Marcus came by with orders from Klement. He’ll understand.”

The two werewolves remained silent as Lupin stepped barefoot out onto the porch and closed the door. The fogged glass of the front door allowed him to watch their silhouettes walk down the front steps without pausing for Lupin to put the shoes on. He frowned. What kind of priority would prevent the man from following preference and putting on the footwear?

The sound of the sliding glass door greeted him as he stepped back into the dining room. He looked up from the towel he was frowning at to find Black stepping in without Harry in tow. The other man’s face was tightly neutral but the concern still pulled at the expression; the man’s eyes were a touch too wide and lips tightly pressed together. Black closed the sliding glass door. Whatever had drawn concern across the other man’s face wasn’t something for the youngest ears to hear, which only piqued his interest more.

“Where’d Moony go?” Black asked. The words were nonchalant but Black’s expression never relaxed. Even the nickname, used to feign ease, was strained.

“A man by the name of Marcus Ilhaus arrived a moment ago asking after him. He had orders from someone named Klement for Lupin to show a new werewolf around.” The dark look that crossed Black’s face at the second name had him settling on a few conclusions. “I take it the dislike from Lupin was warranted, then?”

Black snorted. “Warranted. Klement’s an ass and part of the problem.”

“Problem?” He had no inclination to what Black was alluding to; neither Black nor Lupin had mentioned anything remotely sounding like a ‘problem’. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he found himself growing angry but the breath between his own words was not long enough for him to figure out at what and to what extent. If this had anything to do with Harry... “What problem, Black.”

“The IPPA werewolf program.” Black - uncharacteristically - started picking up the dirty utensils of his own accord, but that was more likely due to the man’s apparent frustration than an actual desire to tidy up. This was not the first time Severus had seen the man fidget when agitated, though the fact it was dishware Black was fidgeting with was rather telling in a strange sort of way. “Klement’s the head werewolf, so to speak, of the pack Remus runs with during the full moon. It’s not an official pack - none of them are exactly loyal to that bastard - but Klement’s still perpetuating the pack mentality that most people think about when talking about wolf packs. You know, the whole alpha male and subjugation of the rest of the pack. It’s disgusting.”

“Isn’t the program supposed to be better than the alternative?”

Black rolled his eyes. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s better by much.” The man suddenly sighed, deflating before him as if this was an old argument. “The way the program’s set up now...” Black shook his head. “It’s not set up in a way that actually benefits anyone beyond a supposedly safe space for werewolves to transform. Well, at least from what I’ve been able to understand. You’ll have to talk with Remus about it. He hasn’t shared everything with me and I can’t blame him but it doesn’t sound like it’s any better than the pack Greyback runs.”

Several memories rushed forward at the mention of the criminal and he shook his head against them. He balked at the idea. “It should not be possible for it to be that bad,” he countered sharply. Doubt edged his words. “The few times I caught glimpses of that pack-” He bit off the rest of that statement vehemently. The silence rang between them as his pulse pounded in his ears. The breath he pulled in shuddered in his chest and did very little to calm him down. He was grateful that Black wasn’t looking at him as he tried to bury the crack in his neutral demeanor. “Has he said anything to whatever chain of command the program has?”

Black glared at him. “Of course he has! Repeatedly. But it doesn’t seem to matter who he goes to. They either happen to be on Klement’s side or bloody ass blind because no one has done anything over the last two years.”

“And why have neither of you said anything to me?”

The anger in Black wavered as the man seemed to curl in on himself without actually doing so. Black turned away from him but didn’t step away. “I’ve wanted to but Remus kept saying that he would on his own. I had figured that he would have done so by now but, seeing as you don’t even know it’s even a problem to start with, he never did.”

“Tomorrow is the full moon,” Severus said, the fact suddenly dawning on him. “How long is he normally gone?”

“Until the day after, usually late in the afternoon or early evening” Black dropped the silverware into the sink, annoyance or frustration pulling at the man’s expression. He watched as it slowly morphed into confusion before the man looked back at him. “You’ve never been here during a full moon?”

“No; and not by design, either,” he assured the other, seeing the immediate flare of old distrust. This was not the time for them to have it out. “I would not have been alone in this house with only you for company if I could help it. That would have been beyond disastrous with our mutual dislike of each other until we had reached the middle ground we are on now.”

Black seemed to accept that, snorting at his choice of wording on the animosity that they had once shared. “Makes sense. So, yeah. He doesn’t usually come back until late the next day. Usually from medical but he never tells me if it’s because of injuries he had sustained or if it was for someone else.”

“How do you know he or others sustain injuries?”

“I smell it. He smells like disinfectant - sharp and off. Same smell he would return with from the hospital wing after the harder moons.”

He let his gaze drift towards the backyard, catching sight of Harry tucked close to the far fence with a toy in hand. How many ‘harder moons’ was Lupin having to suffer through now since relocating to North America? Surely the werewolf program was far superior than what the man endured during his years at Hogwarts. IPPA was supposed to be better than - he shuddered as the flicker of memories swelled - better than that.

“I doubt Remus thinks it’s anything more than an annoyance,” Black finally spoke, drawing his attention back. The other man was looking at Harry but Severus doubted the man was actually seeing the boy. “Harry’s safe here and Remus isn’t ostracized for being a werewolf - a first in his life he never thought was even possible. He’s been able to work and teach and go to the shops without being discriminated for the most part. Not to say there aren’t bigots out there but it’s definitely better than what it was and could have been for him.” Black’s expression tightened. “Just wish it was a little more better than this.”

When Lupin returned mid afternoon the day after, it was very obvious he had been injured but Severus was having a hard time telling if the man had simply ran away from the hospital before he was fully healed or if the man had avoided medical treatment all together. The man had a limp - though he doubted Black or Harry would ever see it - and skillfully corralled Black and Harry to keep either a tender rib or a nasty bruise from being touched on his right side and back. Black still fretted over the man for a good hour before sweeping Harry up and leaving the gentle werewolf bundled on the couch under a ridiculous amount of blankets cradling the largest mug they owned. Severus wasn’t sure if Black had forgotten to coax him along or if he had left him in the house with Lupin on purpose but he wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to talk privately.

“Comfortable?” he drawled, teasing even if he would outright deny such things.

Lupin chuckled. “Almost too comfortable.” The man wiggled but didn’t go very far. “Do you mind freeing me from most of it? Or taking the mug? Either would be a tremendous help.”

Severus pulled his wand out and gave it a swish and flick, levitating the mug without a word. Lupin immediately started shoving the majority of the blankets off and when it became apparent the werewolf wasn’t going to simply settle at that, Severus set the mug down on the end table farthest from the man. Lupin proceeded to fold all but one blanket and returned the folded ones to the assorted closets and beds. He raised an eyebrow at the man as Lupin plopped down next to the mug and tugged the last blanket over his lap. “Much better,” the werewolf commented, finally picking the mug up.

“You could have stopped him,” he pointed out, returning the academic journal to his lap with a finger between the pages. The limp had still been there and Lupin’s motions hadn’t been as smooth as he knew they normally were.

A fond smile crossed Lupin’s face. “Probably. But it’s nice to be fretted over once in a while.”

Severus wasn’t sure he agreed. “Is that why you didn’t tell him about the limp?”

It wasn’t much of a reaction. The werewolf was always so still compared to Black or Harry - or even Severus, for that matter - but it was still very obvious when the werewolf stilled at his words, both hands firmly wrapped around a half raised mug with a gaze resting on the liquid within. It was only for a breath, maybe a heartbeat, before Lupin let out a sigh, a soft smile curling the side of his mouth upward. “Somehow I find myself surprised that you noticed. I thought I was doing a rather decent job at hiding it.”

“You were,” he commended, “but not for someone who is used to looking for such things.”

Lupin looked up at him with a heavy expression. A car drove by with music so loud, the windows seemed to tremble with the base. As the silence returned, Lupin simply said, “Sounds about right,” before taking a drink of his tea.

Severus opened the journal, settling in to read again even as he asked, “So what is it you are trying to pretend doesn’t exist? Anything serious or simply heavy bruising?”

“A few broken ribs from the feel of it. Mostly bruising, though.”

He stared unseeing at the journal as he tried to get his thoughts to start back up. Slowly, Severus turned his gaze to Lupin, a deep frown on his face. “From the feel of it," he repeated, the words heavy off his tongue. Lupin had moved about as if nothing serious was wrong, barring the subtle limp that was still unexplained. It was obvious the other had not been attended to before returning home. “You are aware even just one broken rib requires medical attention, current werewolf status notwithstanding.”

A soft smile pulled at the other’s expression. “It doesn’t hurt that bad, Severus,” Lupin soothed. “It’ll be fine in a few more hours.”

He raised an eyebrow at the other. "And that somehow negates the need for medical attention.” The journal sat discarded on the chair as he stood. “You may be able to hide it from Black and the boy but you cannot get past me. Being a werewolf changes nothing about requiring medical attention beyond the rate of healing. I would stake my magic that you are in incredible pain right now. You will only exacerbate the problem if you keep pretending that you are not.”

Lupin’s gaze fell away. The silence that followed was hollow. He wasn’t breathing heavily but it seemed as if the noise of it filled the room, drowning out the silence between them. The urge to hold his breath, if for nothing more than to be able to hear, had him filling the space with careful words. “What happened, Remus,” he coaxed, the words hoarse to his own ears and softer than he had intended.

The other man sagged into the couch, what little color had been present quickly vanishing. Severus’s gaze immediately went to the man’s chest, taking in the shallow rise and fall. He couldn’t hear it from where he stood which had to be a good sign, if nothing else.

“Klement forgot his own strength,” Lupin muttered, the words thick with pain. “Nearly killed a pup in his anger. I stepped in.”

Anger curled through him, settling in his veins in an old, familiar way. Spite had gotten him far in life and he was about to put it to use again. But first he needed more information. “And this occurred after the full moon?”

“Shortly after we had all returned to being human, yes.”

Which meant they would still have had the strength of the wolf. His wand was in his hand with little flourish and he gave a sharp flick of his wrist, a string of words he half listened to leaving his tongue as he did so. He sent the strongest diagnostic spell he knew over Lupin. The werewolf shuddered under the magic but didn’t fight it. It would be a few hours yet before the wolf’s natural resistance to spells wore off completely but he wasn’t about to wait that long; thankfully the magic resistance only slowed the process. He stabbed the pad of paper on the coffee table with the tip of his wand, directing the results of the spell to write itself out even as he started deciphering what the spell was telling him.

Five ribs were broken, all on the right side of the spine, inches from the column of bone. Vaguely he could tell there were cracks around the breaks but he wasn’t deft enough in the healing arts to understand all of it. Still, a shudder shot down his own spine at the implication of just how much pain Lupin was in from the broken ribs alone. “Did he hit you with something?” slipped off his tongue as he picked up the pad of paper.

“Kicked me.” Severus glanced away from the writing in time to catch the frown that crossed Lupin’s exhausted face. “Well, more like he stomped on me but that’s semantics at this point.”

Had things been less dire, he would have rolled his eyes, but the information he had gleaned alone had strung him too tight. “You have five broken ribs, all on the right side of the spine, not quite at the bottom of the rib cage.”

“Ah. Sounds about right.”

His eyes raked over the sheet, breath catching in his chest as he read the extent of the damage Lupin had sustained. Years of training kept his words steady and clinical. “Additionally, three vertebrae have sustained hairline fractures but the spinal cord appears undamaged. There are more hairline fractures on the already broken ribs and along the ribs on the other side of the spine. Beyond some internal bruising and dehydration, nothing else was damaged.”

“Pleasant.”

The pad slapped against the coffee table loudly, startling the werewolf. Lupin’s head rose sharply off the back of the couch. A pained whimper escaped the werewolf as the man’s body seized from the rush of pain. Severus’s lips tightened but he knew he barely had any more color than Lupin at that point and trying for anything than outright concern wasn’t going to happen. “Piper,” he demanded of the still house, the distance between him and Lupin vanishing in two strides. The house-elf popped into existence somewhere behind his left side. “Medical support. Broken ribs and fractures to the spine.”

The house-elf left without a word, the pop seeming to echo in the room longer than it should have. He put a knee to the couch at Lupin’s thigh sinking into the cushion as he wrapped an arm around the man’s torso. The werewolf hissed in pain as he carefully moved Lupin into a more straight position and Lupin’s hands latched onto Severus’s upper arms in a grip that would leave serious bruises behind. Severus barely noticed. What he did notice was the grip on his arms was the only reaction the man had allowed himself; Lupin hadn’t tensed or fought the movement. His hold on the man shifted upwards until his arm was straight across Lupin’s upper back and tucked awkwardly under both arms, taking Lupin’s weight as best he could from the front. The hold on his arms released for a breath before returning not quite as painfully as a low groan escaped the other. Potions had allowed him only a glimpse of the healing arts. Being a Death Eater and under contract with Madam Gold had lent him to learning not nearly enough beyond basic first aid knowledge. It wouldn’t be long before the house-elf would be back with medical support but he could at least do what he knew how to do.

A quick muttered spell bound the werewolf’s ribs tight enough to offer support and to keep everything from moving more. He cast another spell to dull the pain but it wouldn’t be nearly as effective as several potions down the werewolf’s throat. There was no way he was risking summoning any he had in stock, though. Gone were the days he carried a select number of potions on his person and he was regretting it. Once this whole ordeal was done, he was going back to being stocked and prepared for anything and learning as much of the healing arts as he could manage on his own. “You are an imbecile,” he finally ground out as the bone mending spell sank into Lupin’s back. It was nowhere near strong enough to do anything against the full breaks but it repaired some of the hairline fractures on the ribs and the outermost branches of fracturing on the spine. “Absolutely moronic.”

Lupin chuckled, flinching from the pain that came with it. “Better than watching a child be bludgeoned to death.”

The sharp rapping on the door swallowed his lack of response.

Black looked murderous as Severus approached the hospital room. Somehow still standing in one place and not off murdering a specific someone, Black was glowering at nothing in particular and yet had managed to create a massive bubble around himself that no one was willing to pass through. Even the medical staff gave the man a wide berth despite appearing unfazed. That alone was the loudest testament to the Black bloodline, even if the majority of those avoiding the glowering wizard didn’t know it. Severus encroached on that bubble, passing right through it to stand before the oblivious man.

He presented the cup carrier and bag in his left hand. “Eat. Before I shove it down your throat.”

Black’s glower focused on him but he looked down his nose in retaliation, a feat only successful due to Black slouching against the wall. With an actual growl barely audible in the bustling hallway, he pushed off the wall and towered over Severus, the taller of the two of them despite it being meager inches between their heights. Severus expected sharp words at least, a physical blow at most in retaliation but all Black did was take the items from Severus’s hand and stalk off towards the seating area a handful of paces away. Tension seeped out of Severus’s back and shoulders leaving him feeling strung out. Shaking his head, he stepped into the hospital room the other had been standing guard over.

Lupin’s voice was soft but filled the room in an easy, familiar lull that Severus recognized immediately. Stepping around the curtain revealed Harry curled up against Lupin’s side, eyes locked on the pages of the picture book Lupin was reading to him. There was a lull in the words and Harry reached out, turning the page with care. Lupin continued on, neither acknowledging Severus’s presence until Lupin finished the tale.

“...and fell silent once more,” accompanied the book closing. Harry sat up and took the book from Lupin when the man offered it. Severus grabbed the waistband of the boy’s pants but did little to actually aid the three-year-old from the bed. Small feet easily found the chair beside the bed and Severus released Harry’s pants as the boy’s feet found the floor. Those large green eyes turned up to him.

Severus offered the boy the other bag he had. “This is your food. Your Godfather is currently eating in the chairs near the windows.”

“Why don’t you go keep him company, Harry?” Lupin chimed in, gaining the small boy’s attention. The smile on the man’s face was loose with exhaustion. “I’ll send Severus to join you after a moment. I’m just going to take a nap while you and Sirius and Severus eat something.”

It took a few seconds before Harry turned back to Severus and lifted the book up in offering. Severus took it, placing the bag in Harry’s grasp in turn. With sure hands, Harry tucked the bag close to his chest and padded out of the room. Severus watched long enough to make sure the boy turned right outside the door.

“How are your arms?” The book flopped haphazardly onto the chair as he looked to the bedridden man. Confusion curled through him and it must have shown because Lupin elaborated, “Where I had grabbed you; I wasn’t overly gentle when you were helping me.”

He waved off the man’s concern. “My arms are fine. There was the expected bruising but it was easily dealt with.”

“I didn’t do any more damage?”

He frowned, not used to having Lupin be anything resembling meak around him, but here the werewolf was, voice trembling despite the very clear attempt at maintaining the front Lupin had been vehemently holding all afternoon. Not that it mattered. There was one way he could assure the werewolf and he saw no reason why he shouldn’t. A swift, fluid motion had his outer robes draped over the chair before equally swift fingers went down the line of buttons of his shirt. The article of clothing was draped over the robe to leave him in a well fitted short sleeve undershirt with sleeves that barely covered his shoulders. It left his upper arms completely bare.

Lupin’s touch made him jump but the werewolf’s hand simply rubbed at unblemished skin where there had been nasty bruises only hours prior. The muscles underneath were still incredibly sore despite the visible traces having vanished an hour after he had applied the salve. If he had expected this to help Lupin’s mood, though, that expectation was quickly trounced by the look of defeat on the man’s face as the other asked, “How bad were they?”

“It is of no consequence.”

Lupin shook his head, a dark look crossing that normally pleasant and relaxed face. “Yes, it is. I should have been more careful. I could have-”

Faintly he was aware of the pressure from the bed against the front of his pelvis and upper thighs. He covered Lupin’s hand, pinning it to his arm as he glared down at the man. “Do not finish that. You did not hurt me on purpose and, even if you had, I am very clearly healed.” He gentled his words. “You were in pain, Remus, and a physical reflex is to be expected.” With a deliberate step back, he put space between them again; Lupin’s hand slipped from his arm. “It was to your benefit that it had been your hands that had clenched rather than your back. Otherwise you would have caused yourself greater pain.”

He pulled on his shirt, buttoned it slowly, and slipped the robe back on before Lupin gave him a response. “You’re not mad at me, then?”

He ran his hands down the front panels of his robe, meeting the amber gaze of a hesitant werewolf. “Never; not for some idiotic thing like that.”

The hallway was busier than he expected it to be. The last few times he had stopped by her office, the place hadn’t been deserted per se but it had certainly been far emptier than the chaos they were walking through now. Barely steps behind Lupin and it was still impossible to hear her call to enter when Lupin knocked. He dutifully followed both men through the door as the rest of her words reached him over the threshold.

“Ah, good. Mr. Lupin. Right on time.” If she had glanced up, it had been hidden by the two other men. Severus closed the door, watching as she scrawled something down. “Unfortunately, I am not, so give me a brief moment to finish this up.” She gestured towards the chairs before her desk. “Have a seat Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black. Severus, let me get you a chair.”

Black and Lupin sat down as a chair in the corner lifted a few inches off the ground. It drifted across the room to settle at Lupin’s left without a sound. There was no flourish on her end, no wand movement, no incantation, and he caught the barely hidden shock in Lupin and Black’s expressions as he settled in the chair.

The last stroke was sharp across the paper before she dropped the pen onto the desk. The papers were gathered into a file that plopped heavily into an empty basket. At last she met their gazes, expression neutral and at ease. “Now, then. Mr. Lupin.”

“Remus is fine, Madam,” Lupin informed her quickly.

The corner of her mouth twitched with a soft smile before her neutral expression turned serious. “Remus, I want to extend an apology on IPPA’s behalf for the treatment you have received through the werewolf program.” He caught Lupin tensing out of the corner of his eye. “Despite my best efforts to create an unbiased system, your attempts to notify higher ups of the situation had been ignored largely in part due to discrimination. It is in our favor that nothing was outright destroyed but that does little to change anything that has occurred. However, with evidence that it has happened in one location now before us, I will be starting an inquiry into the whole of the werewolf program across all of IPPA in the hopes of preventing others from experiencing such harassment and disrespect, as well as finding any others who have fallen through the cracks as you nearly did.”

“Thank you, Madam Gold.”

Severus glanced at the other, thrown by the relief in the man’s words. Lupin had bent forward as if to bow while still seated and as the man straightened, Severus saw the very same relief he had heard written across the werewolf’s face. If he was understanding any of it right, Lupin had been surprised at the apology; Lupin had expected something completely different when they had entered the office. He looked across Lupin to Black, finding the same elated relief on the man’s face.

Severus shook his head in disbelief only to quickly remind himself that neither man knew Madam Gold as he did. While the apology and subsequent system wide inquiry hadn’t surprised him, it would to those used to being brushed aside and ignored.

“Now, with the most important thing accomplished, there is one thing I wish to ask of you, Remus,” Madam Gold spoke. There was a slight frown pulling at her expression but otherwise she was at ease and neutral once more. “And it is only a request. You are more than welcome to say no and I encourage you to if you have any doubts or unease with this request. It is not something that will be short term and you will be unable to teach in the same form that you have been these last two years.”

The words hung in the air as she paused, eyes never leaving Lupin. After a moment, the werewolf gave a hesitant nod.

“In order to do this inquiry, I cannot do it myself.” Irritation edged her words. “There are those that think it’s highly improper for my station to personally handle this situation so I am choosing to rely on those I trust to do it instead.” The irritation vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “I would like you to be one of the leading forces for the inquiry team.” She quickly raised a hand when Lupin leaned forward, mouth opening as if to counter her words. “I am not asking that you lead, though I have no control over whether you end up doing so or not. I am simply asking you to be a member of the leading force, one of several that will be trusted to make sure the others know what they are doing and for them to have someone to go to when the lead is unavailable. The whole team itself will start off small - just under ten for the time being - but I expect you and the others will pick up more members along the way.”

“But why me?” Lupin blurted. The words were strung tight with barely any space between them and a glance revealed the man was equally taut. “Surely there are others better suited for this.”

“Probably,” she humored him, offering an encouraging smile, “but that doesn’t mean you are any less qualified. I have been hiring and supporting werewolves since IPPA’s founding and I can count on one hand how many I have met who have the same self control as you do. You are the first in quite a long time whose first instinct isn’t to resort to any form of violence until very clear, very distinct lines are crossed, and even then you try other ways before violence.

“This position will require you to interact with packs who may not trust outsiders - werewolf or otherwise - and who could potentially resort to violence because they feel cornered. Just as much as they need a gentle hand, they need someone who can hold their own and I know you are capable of both.” Her expression tightened. “I also know that I can trust you to be honest with me about the inquiry team and the program branches, something I can only rely on from a very select few, none of whom can be part of the inquiry. If you are willing, I would like you to be part of this inquiry. I will not force you into this and I want you to choose without feeling obligated. I have others I can ask but I wanted to see if you were willing first.”

“I...” Lupin started but she held up a hand even as it sounded like his words died on their own.

“I don’t want an answer quite yet. I have written up a contract for you to go over and I want you to come back with questions and counterpoints.” The stack of bound pages was smaller than Severus was expecting. “You have a week. If I do not hear from you, I will assume my request was rejected. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Yes, Madam,” Lupin answered, the words steady and sure. The man’s hand was equally steady as he took the sheets from her.

“Good.” She looked to Black. “While we’re here: anything you wish to share or ask, Mr. Black?”

“No, Ma’am. Not anymore.”

She smiled at the pair. “Then that is all I had for you two. Thank you for stopping by.” They got to their feet but her next words delayed any movement towards the door. “Severus, if you would stay behind. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes if you two wish to wait outside.”

To his surprise, Black and Lupin looked to him, waiting. He raised an eyebrow at them both. “I can find my own way home.”

The strange hesitation broke as Black snorted and started for the door. Lupin smiled at him, informing them both, “We’ll be outside when you’re done,” before following Black out the door.

The noise of the hallway was silenced the moment the door clicked shut and he turned to face her. She didn’t offer him a chair again, instead offering an amused smile. “They’re a good pair. Strong willed. Talented.”

“I suggest singing their praises where they can hear them, Madam,” he drawled. “You know I will not be your owl.”

She laughed. It was softer than the full sound he was used to and that drew his attention more than her dancing around why he was still there. “Very true.”

Her gaze drifted to the door behind him. There was a clock on one of the bookcases. He wasn’t sure which one it was on, seeing as she had a habit of moving everything around every few months, but he was starting to pick out the soft ticking and, if the silence lasted for much longer, he would be able to point at it blindfolded.

The shift in her attention was abrupt and her hard gaze was on his face, expression tight. “Thank you for making sure this made it to my desk. Corruption seems to have seeped into IPPA despite all my best efforts and weeding out the bad ones has been an arduous task.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“Seven.” He tensed at the alias, schooling his features into curious neutrality as quickly as he could manage. Icy dread shot down his spine at the implication. No, not now. They had an agreement. She couldn’t pull him in now. “I am aware that you are currently on holiday and of the limitations you have put in place for the extent of young Harry Potter’s dependency. I do not plan on pulling you from them at this time, however once your holiday ends and if the circumstances have not changed, I will be expecting your assistance.”

There was a reason why he had reached out to her instead of IPPA to hide Harry. The dread seeped from him until it was a distant memory as he spoke. “I take it there is good reason why you are informing me of the possibility now instead of waiting until I am needed.”

She nodded, leaning back in her chair. “Despite all of my efforts, you and I both know that things can change without warning. I am doing everything in my power to keep the situation from escalating to the point of having to call you in, especially during your holiday.”

Which meant things were already in a terrible state. If she didn’t end up pulling him in, he would be impressed.

“There is also the fact that this assignment is innately tied with the werewolf program and the whole debacle in and of itself and it seemed unfair to not inform you of the potential call while the topic was at hand.” The folder was thin with barely any pages inside but it seemed to weigh on the desk as if it were made of lead five times as thick. He couldn’t recall if it had always been there. Her hand settled on it with fingers splayed. “This will have the information you need. I will send it to you when you are required but not before. I do not want to pull your attention away from your holiday anymore than I already have until it is absolutely necessary.”

“And you will be informing me if I am not required,” he clarified.

“Of course.” She dropped the thin folder into a basket; the folder that had been in the basket prior was no longer there. “Enjoy your holiday, Severus. I look forward to the progress reports on the latest draught.”

He gave a half bow and exited the office. It seemed less crowded than when they had first passed through it but no less busy. As promised, Black and Lupin were waiting to the right of the door, both of them drawing themselves up taller at his appearance. Lupin was quick to ask, “Everything alright?”

“Nothing bad, I hope?” Black asked, grinning.

A faint frown pulled at his face at Black’s wording. It seemed to pull at something he should remember. “There is a potential new project but she currently lacks all the information. She will send more information when she has it and it comes to fruition.”

As far as he could remember. He could faintly recall the sensation of dread on his back but had nothing to anchor it to.

“Nothing more than that?” Lupin inquired, curious.

“Was there supposed to be?”

Black waved them both off. “You two can keep chatting about this over breakfast. I’m hungry and we promised Harry we would pick him up as soon as we were done. I don’t have that much time before my meeting and I would like to have breakfast with him like we planned.”

Severus rolled his eyes good naturedly at Black’s whining. He could make out Lupin’s soft chuckling just under the noise of the hallway and Lupin stepped forward, patting Black on the back. “Come on, then. Best not let you starve to death.”
“There we go. That should sit better.”

Small hands wrapped around the offered glasses and haphazardly shoved them onto his face. Severus tucked the right temple tip behind Harry’s ear, settling the glasses more securely on the boy’s face. Harry blinked up at him from behind the round frames, green eyes curious. He raised an eyebrow at the boy. “Well?”

Harry looked around, taking in the rest of the room. Most of the boy’s attention went from poster to poster as the boy repeatedly raised and lowered the glasses.

“That pair more comfortable now?” the optometrist asked, clearly amused by Harry’s behavior. Harry nodded, putting the glasses back down and dropping his hands. “Excellent. Now, you may get a headache for the next two days but it should fade. If it persists either beyond the two days or doesn’t fade, we’ll start you off with something much weaker and ease you into it. Sound like a plan?”

Harry nodded.

“Excellent.” The optometrist turned to Severus, passing him the bag containing the hard glasses case and a few cleaning supplies. “He’s all good to go. I don’t think we need anything else from you so you should be all good to head out.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement as Harry got out of the chair and slipped a hand into Severus’s free one. “Take care, doctor.”

“You too!” followed them out of the exam room and down the hall.

Severus didn’t give Harry his full attention until they had exited the office suite and made it to the central atrium of the building. The little boy’s gaze was on the floor, half focused behind the new glasses. He gave the small hand a squeeze, reminding him, “Once we see Dr. Trill, we will return home.”

Harry nodded but that gaze didn’t change.

The walk to the doctor’s office was slow. They weren’t in a hurry and Severus saw no need to rush the small boy. He took them through the less crowded corridors and noticed the boy’s gaze had risen from the floor by the time they entered the office suite through the pediatrics entrance. The noise startled him and the pressure against his leg told him it had startled Harry as well. The waiting room wasn’t full but there were certainly plenty of loud children to fill the space with pressing noise. There was an infant crying in the arms of an exhausted looking parent and at least two children were squealing as they played.

Severus tugged on Harry’s hand to get the boy to rotate for him. Harry turned, too wide eyes locking onto his face. He gently pulled the new glasses from the boy’s face before picking Harry up. Harry’s small arms immediately wrapped around his neck, face finding the side of his neck. He situated Harry’s weight onto one arm as he crossed to the receptionist. The glasses case gave a sharp snap as he closed it around the glasses but the sound was lost to the noise in the room.

“Hello,” the receptionist greeted warmly. “Here to check in?”

“Yes. We have a 1:30 with Dr. Trill under Snape.”

“Snape,” the receptionist parroted going through a stack of folders. “Ah, here we are.” The folder fell open in her hand and the nurse pulled at a sheet. There was a pause when the page slipped free before she closed the folder and placed the piece of paper on a clipboard. “We just need you to go over this information and see if anything needs updating. I will let the nurse know you are here and they should call you back shortly.”

“Thank you.”

A quick glance around revealed that there wasn’t anything resembling a quiet corner but he did at least find a chair as far from the ruckus as he could get them. He set the bag and clipboard on the little end table and promptly shifted Harry more onto his front. It was awkward until he was sitting and able to put the boy’s weight on his lap. Harry’s arms slipped from his neck as the boy curled into his chest. Severus tugged the lower hem of his robe up and draped it over the boy’s head and his right shoulder. There was a sizable gap to allow air and some of the noise but it isolated the boy and offered some calming darkness against the chaos.

He himself took comfort in the boy’s weight, letting it settle the agitation he hadn’t realized had risen in his own being as he focused on the minimal paperwork.

“Snape.”

Severus drew his gaze from the pair of children not far off - the older of the two was slowly reading a picture book brought from home to the smaller tucked in their lap, both concerningly subdued - and met the nurse's eyes. With what was most likely an imperceivable nod, Severus shifted Harry higher on his chest and stood; the hem of the robe fell away. He neatly gathered everything with his free hand before he approached the nurse, passing off the clipboard.

“Snape?” the nurse clarified even as the nurse’s gaze fell to the form.

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” The nurse passed the clipboard off to the receptionist. “Right this way.”

They passed into the back halls where the sound dropped significantly. To his surprise, the nurse didn’t stop at the scale and other equipment just inside the door. Instead, the nurse led them through the halls to a room that seemed more secluded than the rest of the examination rooms in the suite.

“Here we are,” the nurse offered, stepping over the threshold. “I just need to get vitals before Dr. Trill stops in. If you don’t mind standing him on the scale for me.”

The door clicked shut as he dropped the bag into a chair. Harry’s little hands didn’t latch onto his clothing like he had half expected and found those green eyes were watching the nurse. Severus stood Harry on the scale and took a step back to allow the nurse room to work. The nurse was quick and thorough, asking the normal string of questions they were always asked as he plucked Harry’s glasses from the hard case. Harry scrambled into his lap once given the all clear from the nurse before promptly taking the glasses from him and shoving them on with that inexperienced exuberance the boy had shown when he had first put them on. Severus absentmindedly fixed one of the temples, most of his focus on the nurse’s questions. Harry didn’t make a sound, content with leaning against Severus’s chest and simply watching.

“Alright. I will go let Dr. Trill know you two are ready.”

The door clicked shut behind the nurse and, for a long moment, the pair sat in silence. Unsurprisingly, Harry grew bored enough to get down from Severus’s lap and he watched the boy poke around the room. Despite the boy spending most of his time with Black - who he expected to have taught the boy a bad habit or five by this point - Harry didn’t open a single cabinet or drawer. There were many that were labeled and Harry would stare at the labels, sometimes tracing them with his fingers, before looking to Severus. Sometimes the boy would try reading the labels himself and Severus would correct him when needed. He always waited for the soft, “What does it say?” before reading a label for the boy. Despite the distance of time between their last visit, Harry seemed to recall a lot of the words Severus had taught him, if not a few mispronounced.

A soft knock announced Dr. Trill’s entrance and the kind doctor graced them both with a soft smile. “Good afternoon.” The door was shut tight and a privacy charm in place before the doctor continued with, “How are we doing, Harry? Feeling alright today?” Harry nodded, drifting back to Severus. “Good.” Dr. Trill sat on the stool the nurse had used, turning their attention to Severus. “The nurse informed me of Harry’s state when you two had been called. Nothing serious?”

“No; only a long day, one that will be done once we are finished here.”

Dr. Trill nodded as graceful fingers tapped out some rhythm on the stethoscope. “Well, this visit shouldn’t be overly long. His vitals all looked good and there were no concerns from our last visit. I’ll just run through the normal check-up and then check his magic veins.” Dr. Trill turned their full attention to Harry, an encouraging smile on their face. “Can I have you sit on the bed, Harry? I want to make sure you are as comfortable for this as can be.”

Harry’s little fist tightened on Severus’s pant leg but the boy nodded.

“His magic veins are still developing but I would say they’re in a good place,” Dr. Trill announced as Harry shoved his glasses back onto his face around Severus fixing his shirt. “If I had to guess, he has another six months or so before they are fully developed; a little on the slow side of development but nothing that is concerning.”

Severus picked up the bag. “And we are to refrain from magic with him, correct?”

Dr. Trill nodded. “As best we can. When you head out, stop by the receptionist desk. They will get you scheduled for six months out - or at the very least a reminder for it - while Harry’s picking something out of the goodies basket.”

“Thank you, Dr. Trill.”

The doctor beamed at him. “Of course, Potions Master Snape. You two have a good day, now.”

Harry wore the dinosaur sticker crooked at the center of his shirt for the rest of the day. Both Lupin and Black happily commented on it once both of them got home. One of them re-stuck it to the cover of Harry’s current coloring book while they were getting Harry ready for bed. The only reason why he noticed was because he was the one to put the coloring book away as he helped Harry clean up for the evening.

“How did it go?” Black finally asked a half hour after Harry was asleep.

How Black had managed to wait that long astounded Severus. “Well enough.”

Lupin placed a steaming mug at Severus’s elbow before taking his customary seat on the loveseat. “Was his vision bad? Those lenses were thicker than what I was expecting; James’s lenses had always seemed so thin even as we were growing up.”

“I would assume Potter’s glasses were wixen made. Harry, on the other hand, has to have muggle made, which means a thicker lens.”

“But the visit with Dr. Trill,” Black started.

Severus picked the mug up, cutting in with an even tone. “Went well. Harry’s magic system is still developing but Dr. Trill was not concerned, and neither should you.”

Black sank deeper into the couch, not looking pleased but not arguing the point.

“Do they know how much longer?” Lupin asked in turn, catching Severus as he pulled a long drink from it.

The mug’s soft tak against the coaster was lost under his words. “Not exactly. It could just as easily be tomorrow as it could be a year from now. This is not something that can be easily predicted.”

“So more waiting?” Black asked, sounding morose.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Yes, Black. More waiting.”

The heat of late summer had yet to touch the day as Severus sat on the patio, an empty coffee mug on the patio table and a book closed around a finger on his lap. Harry was sitting on the patio steps playing with a few toys but the boy wasn't making much noise; the majority of the noise was from the toys against the wood or from the chatter happening at the back fence. Shrieked laughter exploded from the yard three houses over not for the first time that morning. Harry's focus didn't change and Severus wasn't bothered enough to look away from the small get together happening at the far end of the yard.

“He still chatting with them?” Lupin asked, closing the screen door behind him.

“At this point, if he doesn't end up with a nasty sunburn, I'll be surprised. He hasn't moved from that spot in the last two hours.”

Lupin chuckled, setting a plate of grapes and apple slices at Harry’s hip. Harry didn’t show he noticed the plate was there until Lupin was setting the other plates on the table; the boy grabbed an apple piece and took a bite without interrupting his play. “I'm sure,” Lupin commented. “Mind fetching him anyways? I need to grab the last of lunch.”

“We could always just let him starve,” Severus pointed out even as he placed the book on the table. Lupin gave him a look, flat but amused, as he started down the stairs.

The direct sunlight was hot against his head and neck and it immediately pulled a scowl to his face. He smoothed his expression quickly aware that most of the gaggle could see him. He stopped a good arm's length behind Black. “Sirius,” he spoke, deliberately using the man's given name with the audience present; it snapped Black's attention away from the gaggle. “Remus is bringing the last of lunch out. If you are at a place to stop, it may be beneficial to return to the patio so that you can join us.”

The other man beamed at him, either blatantly ignoring or very much aware that the snide in his voice hadn’t been intended. “Fantastic! I'm starving.” Black turned back to the gaggle. Severus started walking back to the patio, eager to be out of the hot sun. “We'll have to continue our conversation later. Have a good one!”

Black jogged to his side, throwing an arm over his shoulder. The relief from the heat trumped his desire to shove the man away. “Thanks, Severus. I thought I was going to be stuck chatting with them until the sun went down.”

“Thank Lupin's timing,” he directed, slipping out from under Black's arm as the shade of the patio stretched over them. “If I had it my way, I would have left you to fend for yourself.”

Lunch was a familiar event, pleasant in its slow pace and relaxed in its conversation. Familiar quips passed between him and Black but the air never strayed away from companionable. It stayed that way until Severus was putting dishes away while Lupin finished up in the sink.

“Severus.” He let out a hum in acknowledgement. “You don’t...” The sound of the scrubbing pad on metal stopped as the words stalled out. “Is there a reason you still use our surnames?”

The question had been asked with tremendous care as if Lupin was trying to defuse a situation that hadn’t even begun yet. Unfortunately, the question itself put him on edge and he finished carefully putting the plates in the cupboard.

When he didn’t respond immediately, Lupin continued, “Sirius and I have been calling you Severus for years now but you only use our names in public, never behind closed doors. You have every right to do what you want but even Sirius has noticed and I just want to make sure we haven’t been crossing some line doing so.”

He found his gaze out the window watching Black play with Harry on the patio steps. Between the two men, he was grateful it was Lupin who was asking. He didn’t want to have this conversation, didn’t want to bring to light his subterfuge, but it would seem neither man was going to let him keep his secrets for long. Bitter amusement rolled through him briefly as he turned his gaze back to Lupin. “Distance between us is for the best. Despite the charade your neighbors see, my stay is temporary. Becoming well acquainted is pointless.”

The pan clattered into the sink, soap flying as Lupin fumbled for it even as those light brown eyes locked onto him. “What? Why?”

Severus rolled his eyes, taking the opportunity to look away from Lupin. The other may be more tame than Black but that didn’t mean the other wasn’t expressive and Severus wasn’t willing to watch that expression change when the betrayal finally sank in. “I would think that was rather obvious. The Dark Lord is far from dead despite the world’s assumption and he will be back. I am branded as his; I cannot ignore the summons when he returns. I am only here to make sure Harry is raised right. Nothing more.”

“Bullshit.”

At first it didn’t register that Lupin had even spoken. The word had been the very thought that had tailed his own words. When it did dawn on him, his gaze snapped to the other man’s face.

There was determination masking hints of hurt and confusion but the full meaning of Lupin’s expression was lost to him. The man’s body was squared, one hand resting on the down pressed faucet handle. “There’s no way you’ll be able to just walk away from Harry like that. You’ve become his family and I doubt he’ll grow out of that view as he gets older.” Lupin’s expression hardened. “And you know as well as we do that if another war does come, you won’t be able to return to Voldemort even if you are branded. Not in the same capacity.”

“I can’t just ignore a summons from the Dark Lord-”

“The Dark Lord isn’t here right now!” Lupin cut in, voice choked with emotions Severus couldn’t parse out. The other took a step towards him, hand falling from the faucet handle as the other pressed against Lupin’s chest. “I’m talking about the here and now. What ifs and possibilities will happen as they happen but Harry is growing up every day with you a constant in his life. You try and step away from that and he’ll fight you tooth and nail to make you stay.” Lupin’s expression fell as a bittersweet smile pulled at the man’s lips. “He’s definitely not James and he’s definitely not Lily but I’ll be damned if he didn’t inherit their stubborn love for their chosen family because whether you like it or not, Harry chose you, Severus. Harry chose you the day you pulled him out of that house and has shown that every day you spend with him and you can’t tell me you don’t see that.”

Silence rang between them as Severus tore his gaze away from the other man. He found it settling on Harry through the kitchen window. The boy was running around the grass, laughter clear in the boy’s expression as Black chased him with a toy in each hand. Black overtook Harry and scooped the boy up. They spun around a few times before Black stilled, gaze falling onto the window. Black said something to Harry and the pair waved at the kitchen window. Lupin moved in his peripheral as he raised his own hand in acknowledgement. Black put Harry back onto his feet and the boy took off across the lawn again, quickly sought after by Black.

“Whether you like it or not,” Lupin continued quietly, “you are a part of Harry’s life, a part of his family, and that makes you our family too.” He wasn’t even sure why he was looking back at the werewolf but Lupin met his gaze, expression oddly neutral. “You don’t have to call us by our names but Harry will start asking questions and I don’t want to be the one to tell him you’re not planning on sticking around.”

Severus tore his gaze away back towards the kitchen window without taking in what he was seeing. Annoyance was the only thing he was allowing himself to feel after that blow. “I am not your family,” was the only retort he managed to spit out.

He jumped when Lupin’s hand closed over his shoulder and he shot a glare at the man he hadn’t even heard move. “Friend, then, at least,” Lupin amended. “Just think about it, Severus. We won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to but do know that we - Harry, me, and Sirius - we want you here.”

Lupin opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the patio. He called out to Sirius and Harry but the words were noise in Severus’s ears. He watched Lupin walk down the steps in time to catch the sprinting child in a solid bear hug. Harry happily latched on, allowing the werewolf to pick him up and perch him on a hip. Harry turned and reached for Sirius talking a mile a minute. Sirius passed the boy one of the toys ruffling Harry's hair as soon as his hand was free. A string of giggles erupted from Harry. As the giggles subsided, the boy’s gaze landed on the window again. Harry beamed at him and waved again even as the boy’s attention returned to the other two men.

The atmosphere around dinner was heavy, awkward even, but Harry was blessedly oblivious to it. Black didn’t seem to fully understand it yet Severus could tell it was affecting the man. Lupin for his part was pretending as if nothing had happened and maybe that was for the better.

“I highly doubt there’s anything to worry about.”

Severus raised an eyebrow as he kicked the snow off his shoes at the door. The first proper snowfall of the year had dropped a good few inches overnight but the snow wouldn’t last long with the unseasonably warm day that was following. Locking the front door in the same motion it took for him to put his bag down, he followed after the voices.

“But he’s isolated. That has to be enough to worry about.” Black’s whine - though whine was pushing it - held genuine concern which only piqued his curiosity and his own concern.

“I am sure that’s by choice, not design, Padfoot. He has no problem playing with the other kids.”

“But he never talks about them, Moony.”

He heard the snort of a laugh as he stepped into the empty kitchen and dining room. “He talks plenty about them, but I’m assuming you mean in the way that you assume one would about a friend.”

“Exactly!” Black had thrown his hands up with the word. Severus paused on the threshold of the open sliding glass door, watching the pair talking on the patio. Black’s voice was heavy with his concern but his posture showed none of it. In the shade, it was still chilly but neither man wore anything heavier than a long sleeved shirt. “You’re telling me you never talked about your friends?”

Lupin shrugged. “I was turned too early for any real friendships before Hogwarts and you already know I would include the lot of you in my letters home. Harry’s still young. He doesn’t need a friend if he doesn’t want one.”

“Have you asked the boy if he has any friends?” Severus inquired, noting the subtle jump from Black and the curious glance from Lupin; Lupin had noticed his arrival, then.

Both men got to their feet, greeting him. “Hey! Welcome back!” Black said; Lupin quickly followed it with, “I take it the snow didn’t slow you down too much?”

“Only slowdown was waiting for the plows to pass. So. Have you asked the boy if he has any friends?”

Black snorted, offended on some level by the question. “Of course.”

“His answer was rather vague but I don’t think it’s anything concerning,” Lupin remarked.

Black opened his mouth but Severus spoke up before the other man could. “Probably not, though there is the chance it was more due to your Gryffindor tack than his lack of a true answer.”

Black snorted. “You think you can get a better answer out of him?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If he has a better answer to give.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Severus,” Lupin put in, taking a half step sideways to be between them.

Severus waved the other off. “It gives me an excuse to see the boy.” Severus stepped back into the house as Lupin and Black fell into something that sounded like an argument. Neither man tried to stop him, though.

He found Harry lying on his stomach in the boy’s room flipping through a picture book. Harry didn’t look at him when he sat down next to the boy but the tiny body shuffled about enough for Harry’s socked foot to touch Severus’s lower back. Severus, in turn, fixed the boy’s shirt.

“Harry.”

“Hmmm?”

“What do you think of the other children in the neighborhood?”

“They’re ok.”

“Do you like any of them more than the others?”

The foot not pressed into his lower back stilled its swaying. Harry looked up at him with a very familiar thoughtful frown but it was still a moment longer before Harry asked, “What do you mean?”

“Do you see any of them as friends?”

That thoughtful frown deepened. Years of watching the boy and learning his mannerisms told him what it meant but he waited. It would do Harry no good if he spoke for the boy.

“What makes someone a friend?”

He took a slow breath to organize his words, gaze settling on the far wall. He wasn’t a Gryffindor despite the company he kept and being a Slytherin meant he held a different opinion on what a friend was than what the two Gryffindors downstairs. It would do the boy no good if Severus gave him a narrow definition anyway. “A friend is someone who you wish to spend your time with to create stories and play games.” He brought his gaze back to those striking green eyes behind those thick lenses. The boy’s scar was oddly stark against his cheek. “A friend is someone you find yourself happy to be around and excited to hang out with.”

Harry stared at him for a long moment before the boy returned those green eyes back to the picture book. Severus didn’t try coaxing the boy’s question out. Either Harry would ask him or he wouldn’t. At this point, he had gotten an answer for Black either way.

“Is there a limit to how many friends someone can have?”

“Socially, no, but that is not something anyone can decide for another. If you asked your godfather, I would be surprised if he didn’t list ten people, not including those within these walls. If you asked the neighbor, Mr. Huey, how many friends he has had, he will tell you stories of the countless people he has called friend over his lifetime.”

“Do I have to have a friend?”

“Only if you want one,” Severus assured him. “Many people will not understand but that is their problem, not yours; you are not obligated to have one if you don’t want one.”

“Can I ask Tanner if we’re friends?”

He didn’t recognize the name despite a part of him feeling like he should. “You are more than welcome to ask but know that they can say no.”

“Ok.”

The boy’s foot started swaying again as Harry’s focus returned to the book. Severus didn’t move for a time, enjoying Harry’s company after weeks of brats he was starting to wish were more like Harry as the days went on - the brief weekend for Halloween certainly wouldn’t be long enough. The soft turning of a page was the only disturbance to the companionable silence.

Friends. Lupin had called him that two months ago and he had ignored it vehemently. Now, though, he could see what the other man had seen at the time, of how much Harry had weaved himself into Severus’s life without Severus even realizing it. The idea of being able to slip out of Harry’s life and pretend he hadn’t spent countless years raising the boy left a bitter taste on the back of his tongue, but he could still do it. He knew without a doubt that before Harry turned 8, he would not be able to even entertain the idea as anything more than a last resort.

But that left Lupin’s claim of friendship, of family.

Severus had been doing his best to avoid both men’s names when speaking with or around the boy but that had been growing more and more challenging as the animosity that had hung between the men slowly faded. Heck, calling Black and Lupin Harry’s “dogfathers” in a demeaning way had lost its appeal shortly after Harry had turned two. It had become a way to tease - like Black’s tendency to call him a git now without any of the venom that had gone with it years prior.

Harry shifted on the floor, rolling over and scooting sideways all at once to rest his head on Severus’s leg. Severus watched the youth until the boy had settled before turning his attention back to his thoughts. His fingers found the boy’s raven locks, carding through them slowly.

Friends. Family. Both concepts were acrid on the back of his tongue but there was no denying he considered Harry family despite his history with the term.

But where did that put him with Harry’s other guardians? What did he want out of this? Obviously keeping Harry in his life as his charge was at the top of that particularly short list; keeping the boy alive went hand in hand with it. He wanted to keep up his Mastery and his work for Madam Gold. Both had their benefits and, loath as he was to admit it, so did working at Hogwarts. He might not care for children that weren’t Harry but it put him in the perfect position to protect the boy while he was at school. Beyond that, though...

Laughter cut through his thoughts. It was distant, drifting through the slightly open window, but he still recognized it as Black’s. It was quickly followed by the man shrieking in fear while still laughing. Whatever prank he assumed Black had just pulled on Lupin clearly had consequences the man was taking with minimal dignity.

Did he count the two men as more than well tolerated acquaintances or were they already his friends, be it his definition of the word or theirs, and he was just being obtuse?

“Severus?”

He looked down at the boy, meeting those curious eyes. “Yes, Harry?”

“Who are your friends?”

When he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Black and Lupin were busy making lunch and chatting away about something Severus didn’t care about. Black grinned at him as he slipped past towards the sink. “So what did Harry say? Does he have any friends?”

“Or want any?” Lupin added, scooting over for him and smiling gently even as the man went on peeling potatoes.

Severus turned the faucet on. “He didn’t name any as friends outright but did ask if he could ask some child named Tanner if they were friends.”

Lupin’s hands froze around the potato. He turned the water off and grabbed for the hand towel on the fridge. It allowed him to catch sight of Black staring at him.

“Tanner?” Lupin repeated. Black quickly clarified, “You sure Harry said Tanner?”

He narrowed his eyes at the both of them. “Yes. Why?”

“Tanner’s...” Black started.

Lupin took over when Black sent the man a look Severus almost counted as pleading. “From what the ECE teacher has said, Tanner’s been harassing Harry. The staff have talked with Tanner’s parents about it and have talked to Tanner but the behavior hasn’t really stopped. Harry hasn’t really shown signs of bullying but it doesn’t mean that he’s not being affected by it.”

“Harry seemed intrigued and rather eager at the prospect of being friends with whoever this Tanner is, regardless of the discourse between them. Whatever beef the other child has with Harry, it seems one sided.” Black and Lupin shared a look again but they seemed to accept his words to some extent and that was good enough. He changed the subject. “How early were we planning on leaving tomorrow morning?”

Both men’s expressions sobered immediately. Black’s expression closed off while Lupin just looked sad.

“Weather permitting, whenever Harry gets up and we finish breakfast,” Lupin answered. The words that followed were equally breathy. “Forecast said it was supposed to be cold and snowy but that’s never stopped us before.”

Black snorted. “Would have to be an outright blizzard to keep me from visiting their graves and even then…”

The threat to be reckless went unsaid but Severus caught the implication anyway. He crossed his arms to have them somewhere other than awkwardly at his side as he leaned against the counter. “I highly doubt Lily and Potter would be happy to see you if you died from exposure.”

Black waved him off, a snarl pulling at the man’s face. Anger was quick to mask the grief that always came at the mention of their dead friends.

“Who are my friends?” he repeated. The boy nodded his head, never taking his eyes off of Severus’s face. He hummed a thought, carding a hand back through the boy’s hair. “I believe at this point, I have a good few. Some you don’t know and some you may never know, others you have known for a while.”

“Like Remus and Sirius?”

He met the boy’s gaze again. Amusement pulled a small smile to his lips. “Yes, like Remus and Sirius.”

“Sirius.” He watched the other man tense and turn a guarded glare his way. Severus didn’t react, simply reminding him, “Harry would be devastated if you died.” The other man’s expression darkened but he took the other looking away as a good sign. He pushed off the counter. “I am going to put my things away. Remus, if you need any help with lunch, let me know.”

The werewolf offered him a weak smile, nodding.

He kicked the slush off his boots against the welcome mat as he entered, the gales of laughter in the backyard chasing after him even as he closed the front door. Sounds drifted from the kitchen of someone cooking accompanied by delicious smells. He wished he could stay and partake; he hated how little time he had to duck in and out but this could not wait.

To his disappointment, Sirius was the one in the kitchen.

“Severus!” Sirius exclaimed once he caught sight of him. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Remus. Is he still here?”

Sirius’s surprised expression quickly turned into worry. “Should be; he hasn’t said goodbye yet. Check upstairs; he should still be packing. Why? Something wrong?”

Severus shook his head even as he started for the stairs. “No. His birthday gift finally arrived.”

Sirius called after him as he hurried up the stairs. As Severus reached the landing, Remus stepped out of his room folding a shirt, confusion pulling at the other’s expression. “Severus?” Remus asked. “What’s wrong?”

He pulled the folder out of his pocket as he closed the distance between them. A quick tap of his wand and it quickly returned to normal size. “Your belated gift,” he said as he offered Remus the thin folder.

Remus tucked the half folded shirt over an arm as he took the folder. There was a hesitation to the werewolf’s movements but it was faint. Remus gave a smile, reminding him, “I had been serious when I said you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that this is for you. If you choose to not see it as a gift, that is your choice, but it is still yours to do with as you please.”

That deepened Remus’s confusion and the man quickly turned his attention to the folder’s contents. The several pages within were full of text but he knew the first paragraph would be enough. He waited, watching Remus’s face closely as Sirius came slowly up the stairs behind him.

Bewilderment overtook Remus’s expression as the werewolf snapped his gaze to Severus. Remus’s entire body had gone rigid yet the folder and its contents remained undamaged. “Severus…” Remus started but the words died out as those nearly amber eyes returned to the pages.

“What’s going on?” Sirius asked Severus in a soft voice.

Severus didn’t answer.

Remus looked to him again with distrust woven into the bewilderment. “This isn’t-” Remus shook his head. “No, of course it is. You don’t joke like that.” Remus raised the folder. “You’re leading this? This is actually a thing? It’s been approved?”

Sirius slipped past him to approach Remus’s side. There was barely any acknowledgement from Remus when the other man carefully took the folder and looked inside. Severus nodded. “That is the project Madam Gold had spoken about back in August. I and the others that will be working with me have been working on the proposal for approval since late September.”

“But you never said anything.”

Severus scoffed. “Of course not. I had no information to share and there was no point in giving you false hope. It had to be approved before we could start working on it, which meant that any information did you no good until afterwards” He shifted his weight to something more stationary, imploring, “This will not happen overnight, Remus. This will be years of waiting, but I wanted you to know that someone was working on it, that I and numerous others are doing everything that we could to help you and other werewolves have an easier life. The original potion - while effective - is heavily flawed and we are-” he gestured to the folder- “clearly not the only ones to believe that. The goal is to have a viable potion in two years - viable but not the final product. It will all depend, though, on what results we get in the coming months and how much time myself and the rest of the team are allotted to work on it.”

Both men had expressions so thick with emotions, Severus had to fight the urge to turn around and go back downstairs. He had known presenting this to Remus - and subsequently Sirius - would not make for an easy conversation but that didn’t mean he wanted to be at the mercy of their emotions either. “This is not a cure,” Severus reminded them both. “All we are doing is attempting to redevelop the original Wolfsbane Potion into something that is not only easier to brew but also simpler to take. And that, if nothing else, will take time.”

And time it took. When he stepped out onto the back deck three years later, it was with a bundle of papers from the latest tests neatly bound for him to review. There had been numerous setbacks along the way - frustrating setbacks - but finally they were gaining traction again and that was all that mattered. Having to work on it around his teaching was infuriating, though, and he was grateful for the start of summer break to devote most of his waking hours to it.

Not that the others would let him over do it. Already Remus had, for all intents and purposes, put him under house arrest. Neither man could stop him from doing any sort of work in the house but they could keep him from going into the IPPA labs, if not at the risk of a few spells aimed their way.

Not that he was resisting their corralling. As much as the project was gaining traction again, he was tired from the school year and more than content exploiting the house arrest until he couldn’t not work anymore.

The morning was far cooler than the intended heat coming that afternoon. It was certainly cool enough in the shade that the several layers he was prone to wearing were certainly needed. Harry and Tanner were in the backyard both wearing t-shirts, a solid indicator that the sunlight was far warmer than the shade. The pair were at the fence in two different locations very clearly looking for something. His curiosity only spiked when Tanner raised their hand, calling out, “It’s over here, Harry!”

Harry dashed across the lawn giving him a chance to catch the boy’s determined, concerned expression before it was hidden by Tanner’s body and the thick bushes that grew on the left side of the yard. Tanner didn’t move back to the bush like Severus expected them to. Instead, the 8-year-old stood at Harry’s back, gaze on the sky and surrounding yard as if on guard for something. It put him on edge.

The likelihood of something actually being wrong was minimal. Children played pretend all the time and those two were no different, yet he had mistaken their play for something far more serious going on several times with how intensely the two played. Despite knowing it would most likely be just another interruption, he set the bound pages down on the table before stepping out into the yard.

He would much rather deal with interrupting a moment of innocent play than the consequences of ignoring a serious situation.
Tanner’s gaze snapped to him the moment his foot touched the grass. That initial sense of something being wrong only intensified when Tanner’s expression didn’t morph into a cheeky little grin like it normally did when he encroached. The 8-year-old ran up to him, hands forward as if they believed they could stop him from progressing further by strength alone. “You can’t come closer, Mr. Snape! You’ve gotta let Harry talk to it first!”

“Talk to what,” he pressed, now very concerned about the situation.

Tanner shook their head even as they shot Harry a helpless look; Harry was still shoulders deep in the shrubbery and showed no signs that he knew Severus and Tanner were talking. “It’s nothing.”

“Tanner.” The child’s name came off as a threat, one that Tanner clearly understood as they flinched.

A pleading gaze was turned on him as Tanner begged, “Please, Mr. Snape! You have to wait! It won’t bite him. They never bite him when he talks to them!”

He could pick Tanner up and move the child out of his way but that frantic worry had their hands fisted in the front of Severus’s clothes, little hands so tight in the fabric that the knuckles had nearly lost all their normal color. Tanner truly believed that if he moved any closer, Harry would be put into danger the boy was currently safe from.

The breath came out as a sigh as he knelt, covering Tanner’s hands with his. “I will wait, but you have to tell me what Harry is talking to and why you are not letting me help him with something that is dangerous.”

Again, Tanner shook their head. “You have to wait until he’s done. He has to show you.”

Show him? Severus found his gaze on Harry as the boy shifted in the brush. Show him what, exactly?

That ‘what’ was in Harry’s hands when the boy sat back. Severus stared at the long, thin body of a very venomous snake half curled in the boy’s hands, that sinewy body looped at least once around one wrist. The boy tucked his feet under himself before standing. He gained his balance before he was even properly upright and walked over. Tanner’s hands left Severus’s clothing as they took a step back and to the side to give Harry room.

Severus’s gaze was locked onto the snake Harry had cradled against his chest. Harry stopped just out of Severus’s reach but he could clearly see the injuries on the snake’s body. Several things dawned on him in quick succession:

One: Harry was a Parselmouth.

Two: the boy was trying to help a venomous snake that was being very docile in Harry’s grasp.

Three: this was not the first time Harry had spoken to a snake.

Four: Tanner knew Harry could speak Parseltongue.

“Harry,” he started to warn but the boy’s posture only tightened; the boy’s hands remained lax around the snake, ever conscious of the small life in his grasp.

“I have to go to Sr. Ribeiro’s.” There was a quake to the words but he wasn’t sure if it was from uncertainty or concern for the creature the boy held.

“Sr. Ribeiro; you two are talking about Oscar Ribeiro, right?” Sirius asked, shoving a shoe on. Harry and Tanner nodded. Sirius returned his attention to Severus and Remus. “I worked with him on a few articles. Good dude. He’s an IPPA herbologist and works with reptiles on the side. We’ve taken a few snakes to him over the last few years.”

Remus placed a comforting hand on Harry’s head, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. “How far away is Sr. Ribeiro?”

“Not far; he’s only a few blocks over,” Sirius said, standing. “Should be a quick walk.”

The house was dwarfed by the two massive homes on either side that filled their plots almost completely. The small home was tucked near the back of its plot, the remainder of the plot full of well tended flora. Tanner darted up the front steps and rang the doorbell. Harry was not far behind, closely followed by the adults. A man barely older than the three adults standing with the children opened the door. “Olá Harry. Olá Tanner,” the man greeted warmly.

“Olá Sr. Ribeiro,” the children chorused.

Harry lifted the snake and didn’t say a word. Ribeiro’s gaze fell to the snake’s injuries. “Ah, I see you’ve rescued another one. Come in, come in.”

The man opened the door wide and the children were quick to dart into the warm space, aiming for somewhere specific in the home. Sirius crossed the threshold first, shaking Ribeiro’s hand as he did so. “Good to see you again. How’s the reptile life?”

“Good! There’s been an uptick at how quickly they pass through my home; it’s been nice seeing so many find good homes so quickly.”

The door was closed behind Severus.

“That’s good to hear.”

Remus reached out as the conversation lulled. “Remus Lupin.”

Ribeiro shook Remus’s hand before turning to Severus. Severus shook the man’s hand, offering, “Potions Master Severus Snape.”

“Oscar Ribeiro. It’s nice to finally put a name to a face. Harry talks highly of his family when he is here.”

“Does he drop by often?” Remus asked.

Ribeiro shrugged, starting for the heart of the home. Sirius was nowhere to be seen but Severus could make out Sirius’s voice mingling with Tanner’s ahead of them. “He comes by regularly but I wouldn’t say often. He likes being around the snakes.” Ribeiro’s gaze was curious when it fell on him and Remus again. “He hasn’t mentioned his interest in them?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

The heart of the home was a room lined with tanks and a counter in the middle of the room. Harry was standing at Tanner’s left as the other child passed Sirius a paper towel sheet when the man reached for another one. The snake didn’t appear to have moved in Harry’s hold.

Ribeiro crossed to Harry, drawing the boy’s gaze. The snake lifted its head, hissing a warning that brought Harry’s attention back to the snake.

Hearing the hiss filled language - a language he had intimately entangled with the Dark Lord - fall from Harry’s tongue seemed to take the world out from under him. Remus’s hand on his shoulder, heavy and hot through his few layers, brought his awareness to his full reaction. His body ached with a desire to fight or run but there was nothing to fight and running wasn’t an option; the handle of his wand dug into his palm still tucked out of sight.

Harry hadn’t noticed, too busy talking with Ribeiro who was now also speaking Parseltongue, but Sirius and Tanner had. The child was mildly confused, looking between Harry’s three guardians and the duo talking with the snake. Sirius, though, was crossing to him and Remus, a wild look in his eyes that matched the fervor that had filled Severus. How the man was calmer than him was beyond Severus.

“Did you know?” Remus asked. The words were barely above a whisper, so soft that for a moment he thought Sirius didn’t hear it.

Sirius shook his head, a hand latching onto Severus’s arm. “I knew about Oscar - he didn’t really hide it when I was over. He would work with the snakes while we talked, talking to them like anyone would talk to someone they’re caring for, and I hadn't thought much about it. His family is from Brazil but he’s the second generation born and raised here so I hadn’t thought-” He shook his head again, violently this time. “I had no idea Harry was a Parselmouth.”

“Do you think it’s because…” Remus started but that was all the other managed to get out.

Their voices were very effective at keeping Severus present. He brought himself back under control in time to appear unaffected when Harry glanced their way as Ribeiro placed the snake into the tank. The boy’s attention didn’t stay on them. “It doesn’t matter if it is or not,” he said, gaze never leaving Harry’s scar. Even from across the room he could make out the thin branches that touched Harry’s lip and crossed the bridge of his nose. “Harry is a brilliant, caring child. Just because he can speak Parseltongue doesn’t change that fact; he’s no different from any of those we work with who are bilingual.”

“Still, though,” Sirius started but Severus cut him off.

“We will make sure he knows how important it is to keep this a secret from strangers,” he assured them both. “It will not be hard to remind him that Hogwarts will be a very different world than what he is used to here.”

The three of them watched the two children help Ribeiro apply medication to the snake’s injuries. A few times when the snake reacted, Harry would sooth it with Parseltongue and a careful stroke of its small head.

Remus spoke up as Ribeiro tucked the tank into an empty spot on the wall. “We should start taking him to visit Europe so that it’s not quite the culture shock when he goes to Hogwarts.”

“Taking him anywhere with Sirius will put a target on him just as quickly as saying his name in public,” Severus pointed out.

Sirius waved the concern away. “We’ve got time to plan. It’s not like we’re going to London tomorrow.”

Sirius crossed to the two children at the kitchen sink, grinning at the both of them before adding his hands to the soapy water the children were cleaning their hands with. Laughter quickly filled the little home.

“Are you sure we can keep the public at bay when we take him there?” Remus asked in a hushed voice.

“I doubt Dumbledore has access to communication networks that works fast enough for him to appear wherever we are at any given time,” he stated plainly. “And between the three of us, as long as Sirius doesn’t look like himself, I doubt anyone will bat an eye at the boy.”

The house was much quieter when Tanner went home after dinner. There was an unnatural stillness to Harry that concerned Severus and as they all moved into the living room, it was clear the stillness was bothering Sirius and Remus too.

“Hey, it’s ok, Harry,” Sirius encouraged, squeezing the boy’s shoulders with the arm draped across them. “You’re not in any trouble.”

Harry’s emotionless mask cracked as the boy’s mouth tightened and his gaze fell even farther. Sirius sent a worried look to Severus and Remus over the boy’s head.

Remus stepped forward and sat down on the coffee table. “Harry, do you know what Parseltongue is?” Harry nodded. “Can you tell me what it is?”

A muscle in Harry’s cheek flexed as silence settled into the room. The worry on Sirius’s face increased but the man had a surprisingly large amount of patience at the moment and staved off the desire to push.

“It’s the language of the snakes,” Harry said, the words timid but enough for the floodgates to open. Harry’s head came up and that emotionless mask was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the frantic fear that drove the boy’s next words. “But Sr. Ribeiro said that it didn’t make me a bad person because I could talk to snakes even though when Tanner found out, they said that only bad people spoke it. But I’m not bad; I just want to help the snakes and help them not hurt anyone.” Large tears streaked down the boy’s face even as his voice barely wavered. “I’m not bad, right?” he asked meekly. “This doesn’t make me bad, right? Sr. Ribeiro wouldn’t lie about that, right?”

Something close to regret shot across Sirius’s face as the man squeezed Harry’s shoulders. Severus had moved to Remus’s side so he couldn’t make out the man’s face but the way the other reached out and gave Harry’s hands a squeeze spoke loudly of how much that had touched the werewolf as well.

Severus knelt at Harry’s knee as he finished rolling his left sleeve above his elbow. “Harry.” He was prepared to wait for those green eyes to find him but they were on him before the boy’s name had fully left his tongue. He rested his arm on his raised knee, the faded Dark Mark on his arm bare for all to see. His other hand settled on the inside of his elbow. “Do you remember when you asked me about this?” Harry’s gaze flickered to the faded mark before nodding. “Do you remember what I said it stood for?” Again, the boy nodded. “Do you think I am a bad person?” Harry vehemently shook his head, a frown pulling hard at the boy’s eyebrows and mouth. “A lot of people would disagree with you, Harry - all because of a mark on my body from a single choice I made. People judge each other for what they perceive and oftentimes that does not include the whole picture. You will have people expecting wondrous, saint-like behavior from you simply because of the scar you bear and what it represents, just as you will have people who will turn on you the moment they learn that you can speak Parseltongue.” He covered the majority of the Dark Mark. The movement drew Harry’s gaze away from his face. “Just because people assume the greatest and the worst things about you does not mean you have to match those ideologies. Be who you want to be, Harry, just as I have, just as Remus and Sirius have. You do that and I have no doubt that you will be anything except the compassionate, brilliant person you already are.”

Harry reached out and covered the back of Severus’s hand over the Dark Mark. The boy’s eyes remained on their hands even as he asked, “Why are people so mean?”

“Because they are afraid. Fear will drive even the kindest of people to do the most horrendous acts.”

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s stupid.”

He chuckled and he wasn’t the only one; Sirius snorted as Remus chuckled as well. Severus turned his hand over and gave Harry’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Yes, it is, but being mad at it will only bring you more pain. Fear is a part of life. As long as you learn to not let it control you, you will be fine.”

Harry met his gaze. “But what about everyone else?”

“Not much we can do about them, pup,” Sirius said, ruffling Harry’s hair. “You’ll just have to drown them with that big heart of yours and let them do the rest.”

“Now, about the Parseltongue,” Severus said, redirecting them all back to the topic at hand as he stood. “You are welcome to speak it whenever you want but there are a few rules you have to follow for your own safety. Does that sound reasonable?” He gained a nod. “Good. First rule: while we are here, you are able to speak Parseltongue freely around the house and while in the presence of either Tanner or Sr. Ribeiro. It would be wise to err on the side of caution when speaking around others of the neighborhood. Second rule: you do not speak it in muggle populated areas that are not IPPA sanctioned. It is like your magic - we do not reveal ourselves to the muggles. Final rule: you do not speak it at Hogwarts nor anywhere inside the European countries unless you are absolutely certain no one can hear you or unless it is a life or death situation. Is that clear?” Harry nodded. “Any questions?” Harry shook his head. “Good. Now, how about we start for bed.”

It took a good year before Severus stopped associating the language with the Dark Lord. Harry rarely used it around him when he was home from Hogwarts and it quickly became apparent that the boy didn’t care to use it for any other reason than speaking to snakes. Despite being a child - despite being human - Harry never unintentionally slipped into Parseltongue.

It didn’t take long for Sirius and Remus to implement regular trips to Europe after the Parseltongue discovery. Once every two months or so they would take Harry to Europe and by the time they approached Harry’s birthday, the boy had seen a good portion of Europe. The visit for Harry's 11th birthday was for two weeks in England. The first week would include the Cooper family, Tanner’s family, with the last of the whole trip landing on Harry’s birthday.

Severus nearly lost the time off when the latest project in London went south in his absence. Barely a week into the summer holiday and he was already returning to London. Thankfully the team he was working with was competent and they managed to stabilize it enough for him to keep his two weeks.

He met Harry, Remus, and Sirius at IPPA’s London branch, unsurprised to see Sirius in his animagus form. Severus humored Snuffles - Sirius’s name as a dog, as named by a three-year-old Harry all those years so - when the dog happily pressed into his legs, tail going a mile a minute. He patted the vested ribs with a few resounding thumps to Snuffles’s apparent pleasure and he huffed a laugh as he straightened. He gave Harry a tight hug as he informed Remus, “The Coopers' flight was delayed but they should be landing soon. We can get lunch once they join us.”

“Oh. Good timing on our part, then,” Remus spoke, letting Severus lead the way to the rental car. Snuffles settled on Remus’s far side as Harry wandered a few paces ahead of them. “I was concerned we would be slowing everyone down. We had trouble with muggle and wixen folk again. Unsurprisingly, it was his size several people were using to say he wasn’t a service dog.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “A certification is a certification. Just because he is the size of a small horse does not make him any less a service dog.”

“That’s what the authorities said; thankfully an aid rather than a hindrance this time.” There was a pause, a pull of air that was normal except for the unease that drew it in, before Remus muttered, “But aren’t we in the wrong for perpetuating a lie?”

When Remus had first spoken, there had been an edge to the man’s words Severus had not understood. Now, though, it was clear what that edge had been. He stopped walking, drawing Remus to a halt, and faced the other. He took the leash from Remus and offered it to the dog, softly commanding, “To Harry.”

Snuffles met his gaze and it was like the wizard behind the gaze was thanking him before gingerly taking the leash from his hand and trotting off to the 10-year-old waiting patiently those few paces ahead. Harry took the leash from Snuffles and petted the dog’s head.

“Madam Gold would not have allowed us to use such a ruse if she thought we would abuse the system or harm it in any way. Snuffles went through the trainings; regardless of what he is, he is a certified service dog. That will never be a lie.”

Snuffles happily took the pets before pressing into the boy’s chest. Harry stepped back until he was up against the building and sat down on the pavement. Snuffles settled against the boy’s chest and across his lap, pinning the boy in place. Even from where they stood, he could see Harry’s knuckles pale with the strength of his grip on the service vest as the boy pressed his face into the dog’s fur. He looked to Remus. “He does as he is trained to do when you allow him to do so, as he is now with Harry. He is not simply pretending in order to make our lives a little bit easier.” The only pause he allowed himself was the amount of time it took him to take a breath to keep speaking. “Or have you forgotten that he was trained to be your service dog for a reason? Just because he took the trainings required to help Harry as well does not change that fact.” Most of Remus’s expression closed off at the reminder. “The suggestion for Snuffles to become a service dog had not been made lightly. Sirius threw himself into those trainings to uphold a standard Madam Gold would expect from all of us just as much as he did it to be able to support you and Harry even more.”

“And you. He’s helped you, too.”

The instinct to hide his reaction to the soft admission was a wave of hesitation in his body and it took him a moment to answer. He nodded. “Which only proves my point. His certification is not the farce you keep thinking it is.”

Remus shifted his weight forward, drawing Severus’s attention back to Harry. There were a few strangers looking at Harry and Snuffles but no one had approached yet with the intent to disturb the pair. Severus wasn’t sure if that was from the service dog patches or Snuffles’s appearance. Remus’s movement had been due to a small group that hadn’t noticed Harry until they were barely two steps away. Snuffles shifted to keep an eye on the group but physically stayed relaxed against Harry. Severus couldn’t blame him; annoyance at their obliviousness had filled his chest, too.

“Would you be offended if I said I don’t care too much for this Slytherin way of keeping Harry safe?”

Severus glanced briefly at Remus, catching sight of a soft, fond smile on the man’s lips. He took a step forward, letting his motion bring Remus along. “I would be concerned if either of you ever became comfortable with something so Slytherin in nature.” He looked over his shoulder to meet the werewolf’s gaze. “But as long as you both see the benefit of this one, no offense taken.”

Remus nodded.

The week flew by and the last day with Tanner and their parents was a study in chaos - although that was most likely due to the outing being at Chessington World of Adventures Resort than anything else. Severus spent most of it keeping pace with Remus. Sirius - currently not in his animagus form and sporting short, golden brown hair and a thick, short beard - was off with the children and Tanner’s parents enjoying the rides just as much as the kids were. The hair change was most likely excessive at the muggle amusement park but Severus would much rather be safe than sorry and both Sirius and Remus had agreed with him. Sirius had even been enthusiastic about it, commenting about wanting to try something closer to blonde this time without elaborating on when else the man had changed his hair color. Severus had certainly never seen Sirius with any other color than his natural dark.

Remus had tried a few times to usher Severus along as the day progressed but Severus simply ignored him and kept with the hurting werewolf. It wasn't like Severus was missing out doing so. The walks through the park were enjoyable enough and he had no desire to ride any of the rides. Muggle technology was impressive, there was no denying that, but Severus only trusted it to a certain extent.

“You would think with all the magic and technologies in the world disabilities wouldn’t be a thing.”

Noise filled in the space around the soft spoken comment, nearly swallowing it before he could understand it. He looked up from the novel he was reading to find Remus watching the dragon boats of the Sea Dragons go round and round through the breaks in the crowd. The book closed around his thumb. “They would still exist. Society is far too rigid for them not to.” When Remus didn’t respond immediately, he added, “We can call it a day if you need.”

“No, it’s fine; I’m ok.” Remus caught sight of the flat look Severus was giving him and offered a soft smile. It was tight around the edges. “Just frustrated is all. I don't like having to stop so much, let alone today of all days. Feels like I'm being a burden, like I’m only bringing down everyone’s day.”

Severus opened the book for show and dropped his gaze to the pages as he said, “What happened to Gryffindors being adamant about relying on others in times of hardship?”

“That’s not for things like this.”

Severus snapped the book shut as he countered, “If not this, then what? If a bad day doesn’t fit whatever criteria you have for that, what does? What will it take before you accept support? Running yourself into the ground and hurting yourself more?”

“Of course not!” Remus tried, aghast.

Severus didn’t give him a chance to add anything more. “Certainly appears that way with how you are behaving.” The tension in his body eased as a heavy breath left him. “Remus,” he said, catching the flinch at the name. “Even if you are a burden, some of us actually believe you are worth the work.” Almost amber eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, the edges of Remus’s expression hurt and uncertain. A pang of regret shot through his chest. He hadn’t realized how close to the breaking point Remus had been. If there was any time to admire the man’s control, now was certainly a good time. He quickly continued the redirection. “The only thing that Harry and Sirius care about is that you are able to enjoy yourself to the extent that you can today. If that means most of the day is spent on a bench in the shade watching the world go by, then accommodations will be happily made. You told them to go have fun and enjoy themselves and every time they come back from a ride or running ahead, they always check to make sure you are enjoying yourself just as much. Your lack of ability to join in has not been threatening their enjoyment; the lies you keep telling them have been.”

Remus leaned into his knees, the palms of his hands pressing into his eyes. Severus let the man be. He wasn’t Sirius and despite the years living with both men, consoling anyone who wasn’t Harry was not in his repertoire. What he could do, though, was make sure his point got across.

“Even if you were as well as Sirius currently is, I would still be sitting on this bench reading. While I have quite enjoyed the walks, you will not catch me dead on any of the rides.”

“Not even Sea Dragons?” Remus piped up, the words muffled and weak but amused around the edges.

A smirk pulled itself across his face. “Oh, most definitely not. My reputation as a slimy Slytherin git would be revoked the instant I stood in line.”

A bark of a laugh left Remus as the man sat up. There was a familiar glint in those light brown eyes that only made Severus’s smirk grow. “Ah. Too childish for a Slytherin of your stature?”

He sniffed as if offended and made a good, unintentional impression of a certain Malfoy. “Please. They could look like warships and I would still lose my reputation.”

“Ah, so it’s the technology,” Remus mused. “Wonder if Harry would be enough to sway you.”

“Never.”

It was a lie and he didn’t even try to hide it. The heavy mood that had settled over Remus was much lighter now and though the werewolf was most likely still in a lot of pain, Remus relaxed into the bench more completely.

When the others found them, Remus suggested riding the Sea Dragons and Harry nearly combusted from joy. Severus raised an eyebrow when he caught Remus’s gaze as the man carefully stood. Remus rolled his eyes in good humor recognizing the jab for what it was. Harry had proven Severus’s point that Remus had already ceded. Harry was quick to grab Severus’s free hand and Severus followed the excited tugging. He passed his book off to Sirius as Sirius informed them that he and Tanner’s parents would wait at the bench for them.

The children sat in the middle of the boat, each on their own bench. Harry had taken the bench across from Severus but talked up a storm with Remus who sat at the other end, describing in as much detail as the youth could provide the last ride they had been on. Tanner threw in their own details when they thought Harry’s retelling was lacking.

When Sirius asked Remus if he had fun when they regrouped, Severus knew the affirmation that Remus gave was genuine.

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. The Coopers had left in the early hours of the morning for their return trip home so Harry was rightfully subdued. Sirius and Remus spoke lightly of work as Severus flipped through the most recent potions journal.

A quick tck-tck-tck on a window brought the room’s attention to the balcony door. A tawny owl was standing on the small balcony burdened with several pieces of mail. Sirius made to stand but Harry was already slipping from his chair, a soft, “I’ve got it, Sirius,” stilling Sirius’s movement. Sirius sat back down, eyes on Harry as the boy walked over to the door and pulled it open. The owl released a familiar looking envelope into Harry’s hand before flying over to the table to deliver the remaining mail. Severus was not surprised to see two had been for Remus. The work Remus was doing for Madam Gold in IPPA’s werewolf program never stopped.

“Anything good, Harry?” Sirius asked. The man was excited, thrumming with an enthusiasm that Harry appeared to be lacking. They all knew that envelope and it was a point in Harry’s life both Gryffindors had been eager for.

Harry settled back into his chair before opening the envelope. The heavy parchment barely made a sound as the boy unfolded it. “Dear Mr. Potter,” he read. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall.”

Sirius whooped with joy as Remus beamed briefly at the boy. The werewolf reached over and ruffled Harry’s hair. “Congratulations, Harry. We’ll go collect your school things on your birthday while we’re in London.”

Harry offered the both of them a smile before returning to his breakfast.

The day wore on. Despite the vacation, Remus stayed in the kitchen to respond to the letters and Severus stepped out for a meeting with a few colleagues not far from the hotel. His meeting wore on for longer than he had anticipated and returned to a quiet suite. A glance at the balcony confirmed Harry’s location but not the others. Severus closed the door to the small balcony as he stepped back out into the muggy afternoon air. Harry glanced his way before refocusing on the street below.

“Are you looking forward to going?” Severus asked, resting his forearms on the rail as he let his gaze fall to the street below. Harry, sitting on the balcony floor, shrugged just inside his line of sight. It drew Severus’s full attention but the boy’s gaze stayed on the world beneath them. Severus recognized the closed off expression Harry wore. “Do you want to talk through whatever you are pretending is fine or are you choosing to keep it to yourself?”

That closed off expression tightened in a familiar fashion and Severus waited for the boy to sort through his thoughts. After a moment, Harry asked, “Do I have to go?”

“It is not mandatory for you to attend so the choice to go or not is yours to make. All you have to do is inform us of your decision so that we can plan accordingly.” Harry looked up at him but said nothing. He doubted the boy would find the right words even if he gave him time so Severus elaborated. “Remus and Sirius are expecting you to want to go because of many reasons that are personal to them. It is likely your name was down for Hogwarts before you were born and to them, that is enough to warrant their expectation, though it is far from the only thing. Your parents went to Hogwarts and they want you to share that with them. After all, their Hogwarts experience with your parents and others had a large impact on who they are today. It was the place where they found themselves and life long friends, the place where they learned about the world, but that does not mean Hogwarts is the only place for those things.”

A faint frown pulled at Harry’s face. “You aren’t?”

Severus shrugged, looking back at the world below. “You are your own person and an education is an education. My experience at Hogwarts was far from ideal but the castle still became a second home to me; my choice to return to Hogwarts and teach was my own, just as your choice to go will be yours. I think it would be good for you to go but no, I am not expecting it of you.”

“So I can say no if I don’t want to go?”

“I would suggest talking to Remus and Sirius about this first so that you can make a more informed decision. They may be able to help you walk through the other fears you are worrying over in a way that I cannot. Regardless: yes, you can say no if you are opposed to attending Hogwarts.”

Silence settled between them briefly, filled with the sounds of the waning afternoon. Severus let the boy be, letting his own thoughts drift over old memories of his first letter all those years ago. He remembered the lack of hesitation in his choice, the excitement that had come with it, and knew that Harry’s perspective was nothing like his had been; he was beyond grateful Harry’s perspective was nothing like his had been.

“Tanner won’t be going to Hogwarts, will they?”

“No,” he confirmed. “There is nothing Hogwarts can teach a muggle.”

“Same with any other wixen school.”

“Yes.”

A shorter pause.

“Do you think I’ll be able to make friends there? Friends like Tanner?”

“If you are friendless by the end of your first year, I will personally make sure you are back in school with Tanner, but it would have to be a deliberate choice to not make any friends for that to happen.” When that didn’t get him a response, he looked down at Harry again. “I take it there is more to your hesitation than just that.”

“Will Tanner hate me for going?”

“I would be surprised if they did. The distance will certainly strain your relationship but I doubt it will suffer from it. It will give you both the opportunity to grow on your own and become your own persons, something that could only benefit the both of you.”

Harry’s expression tightened again. “Is Hogwarts here in London?”

“No. The castle is north in an unplottable area at the edge of the England and Scotland border. The wixen town of Hogsmead is close to the castle so the school is far from isolated.”

“So even further from home.”

Someone slammed a car door beneath them and the sound was quickly followed by laughter from the other end of the street. Severus sat down next to Harry with his back to the railing. It gave him a clear view of the boy’s face when Harry looked at him. “The first week or so may be hard but it will be the only week that you will notice the distance so sharply. After that, you will barely have time to think about the distance between homework and friends.” He turned his gaze to his faint reflection. “If you are fearing going to Hogwarts will isolate you, trust that it will do no such thing. For one, I will be there as Head of the Slytherin House and teaching Potions as I have since you were eighteen months old. For another, Sirius and Remus will only be a letter away. If by some miracle neither of them send you the entire contents of the house during your first week, I would be astounded.” That managed to get a small huffed laugh out of Harry but the strain was still there. “You will not be kept from our annual visit to Godric’s Hollow and with Tanner’s birthday falls close to the winter holidays, you will still have both to look forward to.”

Some of the strain left Harry’s shoulders as the boy returned his chin to his knees. “Can I still think about it?”

Severus reached over and carded his hand through Harry’s hair. “Of course. I strongly suggest you make your decision before we head to Diagon Alley so that Remus and Sirius are not expecting to spend the entire day shopping. Do not forget to talk to them about this as well.”

Harry nodded under his hand. He stood and left the boy to his musings.

Stepping back into the suite revealed Remus and Sirius had not wandered from wherever they had been upon his arrival. With only three other spaces the pair could be in, Severus walked to the rooms and caught the edges of their soft chatter.

They looked his way when he stopped in the doorway. He frowned at the disheartened expressions on both men’s faces. “Something wrong?” he asked, stepping in and closing the door.

Remus answered, “Not exactly.”

“Harry didn’t have much of a reaction to his letter,” Sirius explained. “I - we - expected something from him but he’s been rather subdued all day.”

“You do realize this is a massive disruption to his status quo,” Severus pointed out. “It should be no surprise that he has been subdued about this. It has the same weight for him as taking Harry in and moving to a new continent had for the both of you.”

“But he hasn’t talked about it, not even when Remus or I directly ask about it.”

Severus wondered how long ago that had been. Harry seemed responsive enough, though he was well aware the boy didn’t talk to them all equally. “Give him a few more days. Harry values your opinions greatly and is most likely just trying to figure out what he wants to talk about.”

Both men nodded.

“How was your luncheon?” Remus asked, standing from the bed.

“The food was good,” Severus said. It gained a snort from Sirius and a smirk curled the corner of Severus’s lips. “The meeting itself was decent. Mostly catching up on the happenings of the world and work for the most part. My participation in that aspect was minimal.”

“So it wasn’t with current colleagues?”

He stepped aside with the door, letting Remus and Sirius out. “No, there were a few there from the current projects. The majority were folks I had not seen in a while. Nothing more to note beyond some successful networking for those present. What of the letters this morning? Anything urgent?”

Sirius plopped down on one of the couches as they settled in the living room. Severus remained standing as Remus sat as well. Remus said, “Thankfully nothing dire but certainly urgent in its own right. Nothing that a response letter couldn’t suffice so I won’t be pulled away just yet.”

Severus nodded as the balcony door opened behind him. He shifted his position to look back and watch Harry enter the suite. The boy’s gaze drifted over the three of them as he closed the door. Sirius opened his arms to Harry at the boy’s approach and Harry went over without a word, settling into the tight hug against the man’s chest.

“Do you want to talk yet?” Sirius asked just loud enough for Remus and Severus to hear.

Harry shook his head no.

“You let us know when you do, ok, pup? We’re here for you.”

Harry nodded.
“Sorry we’re spending your birthday shopping in that mess, pup,” Sirius offered tossling Harry’s hair.

Harry sent his Godfather a reassuring smile. “It’s ok. I’ve never seen Diagon Alley this full before.”

“Neither have we.” Sirius glanced at Severus. “For the most part.”

Severus shook his head. “I usually avoid the busy season so I was equally oblivious to how crowded it would be.” Harry returned to staring at the mass of people below them in the very shopping district they were discussing. “Unfortunately this means Snuffles will be required.”

Sirius shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on being human here in the first place.”

The clock on the bookcase started to toll the hour. Remus rose slowly from the armchair looking as if the sound had woken him from dozing yet when he moved, none of the drowsiness showed. He placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders drawing the boy’s attention from the street below. “Come on, Harry. Let’s get settled into bed and read for a bit.”

“Ok.”

When the bedroom door clicked shut behind the pair, Severus looked to Sirius with a raised eyebrow. The fact that it was Remus and not Sirius helping Harry settle into bed was telling. “I assume you have something you wish to discuss.”

“Yeah, something Harry brought up yesterday.” Sirius leaned against the windowsill, hands pressing into the top of it. “Did he ever talk to you about his Sorting?”

Surprise flickered through his chest. “No; but that may be more due to my lack of availability this last week than his lack of desire to discuss it.”

And not from a lack of trying. He hated that complications had occurred with one of the projects to a degree that required his assistance but at least it had stabilized enough to allow him Harry’s birthday off.

“Makes sense.” Sirius nodded towards the door. “He asked both of us at different times about what House he would end up in, though he phrased it differently when he had. He’d asked Remus which House he thought Harry would be Sorted into while he asked me if I would be happy if he got Sorted into Gryffindor.”

It was enough for Severus to piece together what Sirius was getting at. “You believe he’s fretting about the Sorting.”

Sirius shrugged, the motion exaggerated as the man’s hands came off of the windowsill to hang in the air palms up between them. “Didn’t you once you learned about the Houses? Every kid does but they don’t usually have to deal with the adults they look up to having been in two opposing Houses. I don’t think he’s fretting too much about it but I think he could use the reassurance from you that any House would be perfectly ok with us. Heck, a failed Sorting would be fine; as long as he’s happy, that’s all anyone cares about.”

A frown pulled itself across Severus’s face as he folded his arms. “You cannot guarantee his happiness even if he was Sorted into the perfect house. There will be times he will be unhappy at Hogwarts as there would be at the IPPA school Tanner will be attending.”

“I know that,” Sirius ground out, a helpless frustration flashing across the taller’s face. “But surely there’s something…”

“Sirius.” Sirius met his gaze with a sharp, flat look. He cut right to the heart of it. “He will be outside of your protection when he goes to Hogwarts.”

Sirius curled in on himself, gaze going back to the bedroom door. Severus sighed, not overly confident that he understood Sirius’s sudden mood despite knowing what gnawed at the other. “I will speak with him before he leaves for Hogwarts but I am not forcing the conversation. We have to have faith he has the skills to handle this on his own. Should we not, we run the risk of making things worse.” He gained Sirius’s gaze again. “He will be fine, no matter the House.”

“Even Slytherin,” Sirius challenged.

Had it been ten years prior, he would have scoffed at the idea of comforting Sirius in something so ridiculous as Harry’s wellbeing at Hogwarts. Hogwarts would be the safest place outside of their home for him to be; it was far safer than the IPPA school Harry would have attended with Tanner, IPPA protocol be damned. “Especially Slytherin. I take pride in making my House a safe space no matter the reputation even if I cannot guarantee he will not run into trouble. Do not forget, though. I have already made arrangements for another room to be added to my quarters for his use with his decision to go to Hogwarts. It will be his room that he will have full access to whenever he is at Hogwarts but we agreed to allow him to experience Hogwarts like the other students. He will spend most, if not all of his year with his House.” Sirius didn’t look overly assured and Severus rolled his eyes. “At least trust that I and the other teachers are going to do our damnedest to keep all the students safe and alive.” Sirius nodded, body relaxing. “Good. Now, Remus should have Harry settled enough for us to give the boy his gifts. If you can go get Harry’s presents, I will get the cake.”

Sirius immediately perked up and hurried off to do just that. Severus let out an amused huff of a chuckle. Gryffindors.

The following morning met them with good moods despite the prospect of an overwhelming day. Harry was chipper as ever during breakfast, legs swinging beneath the table as he talked about the latest satellite being built to gather information on solar flares and the new technology that was going into it. Four science magazines were stacked next to Harry’s plate, all renewed subscriptions thanks to Tanner’s parents Harry had received the night before. Harry had the top most magazine open to the article he was referencing as he talked and would ask after concepts he wasn’t fully grasping or for the definitions of the larger words.

It was as they were getting ready to step out that he noticed. Sirius had transformed into Snuffles and was getting strapped into his harness by Remus but the man now turned dog was nosing Remus’s arm, a tell Remus was ignoring for some reason. Severus stepped away from Harry as the boy started putting on his other shoe to create some privacy when he reminded Remus, “Do not overdo it.”

Remus offered him a simple smile, straightening. “I won’t; don’t worry. It’s nothing that warrants me missing out on this.”

Severus let his incredulity show on his face even as he let Remus be. “Speak up when you need to stop. There is nothing that has to be done in a timely manner.”

Remus nodded, gathering Snuffles leash into hand.

Joining the crowd curbed some of Severus’s good mood. He made sure Harry was tucked between him and Snuffles, Remus on Snuffles other side, before they truly delved into Diagon Alley. It didn’t take long for Snuffles to move to Remus’s other side creating an excellent buffer against the press of the crowd. He realized it would not take long for Harry and Remus to reach their limits in this and what he had glanced of Remus’s grip on Snuffles’s leash informed him the other man was aware of it too, the conversation before they had left the room notwithstanding.

“It may be faster if I went and grabbed Harry’s books while you get his school robes,” Remus commented as they came to a stop outside Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. A cluster of people were shoving their way through the shop’s doorway and not even Snuffles moved to try and get through it. “Would cut down the amount of time we’re here and give us more of the day.”

The latter words came across as vague thoughts like Remus was thinking out loud more than trying to convince Severus. Not that Severus needed any convincing. “We will meet you at the ice cream parlor, then, and decide how to proceed from there.”

Remus nodded but the man was hesitating. “Do you want me to leave Snuffles?”

Snuffles looked up as if offended by the suggestion but Severus was already stepping away with a hand between Harry’s shoulders. “No. I would rather not have to deal with Madam Malkin.”

Remus nodded as if he hadn’t considered that. “We’ll be back.”

A step back and Remus and Snuffles disappeared into the crowd.

Severus and Harry passed through the empty doorway and barely made it a few steps into the room when Madam Malkin, a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve, greeted them personally. She smiled first at Harry before turning her attention to Severus. “Seems I have nothing but Hogwarts students coming in today. Let’s head to the back of the shop and, if you don’t mind taking a seat, I’ll have our young friend here situated with a full set of robes.”

“Thank you,” he spoke, gently pushing Harry forward. There was a moment of hesitation from the boy but Harry didn’t fight him. Madam Malkin led them to the back of the shop where another child was standing still on a footstool as a second witch pinned up the long black robes. Severus settled in the chair that was out of the other child’s direct line of sight as Madam Malkin pulled a second stool over for Harry. He recognized young Draco Malfoy the moment they had made it halfway to the back of the shop, those platinum blonde locks a rare enough sight to be a calling card of sorts. As much as he was not opposed to being seen by the Malfoy heir, it was better if the two boys’ first interaction wasn’t tainted by his presence. He caught the flinch from Harry when Madam Malkin draped fabric over the boy’s head but Harry did well to stay still as she started pinning it to the right length.

The young Malfoy spoke up after a moment with a rather arrogant politeness. “Hello. Hogwarts too?” Severus wasn’t surprised when Harry’s response was only a nod. “My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands,” the young Malfoy drawled. Severus couldn’t help the skepticism that pulled at his expression. While young Malfoy sounded bored, even Severus could see how awkwardly the boy stood. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why First Years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully Father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.” If Lucius Malfoy was turning his heir into a spoiled brat, he was going to have a few choice words for his old friend. “Have you got your own broom?”

“I’ve used my guardian’s old one,” Harry offered. Severus was pleased to hear the use of ‘guardian’ rather than a name; it was reassuring to hear the boy had taken their conversations to heart. “They said if I get into Quidditch, they would buy me my own.”

“You play then?”

That seemed to spark genuine interest in the young Malfoy but Harry shrugged. “I chase a practice snitch around if that counts.”

“I play,” the young Malfoy stated proudly. “Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House and, I must say, I agree. Know what House you’ll be in yet?”

“No.”

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin. All our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff. I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

Severus frowned, watching the young Malfoy’s expression. Despite being the son and heir to Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy was still as expressive as any other 11-year-old should be. The moment there was a shift in topic, there had been a shift in expression, and if Severus was reading the boy’s tells right, Draco Malfoy didn’t quite believe his own words.

“Not everyone follows their family’s footsteps,” Harry cautiously said after a moment. The young Malfoy was startled by the statement and Severus caught a glimpse of the fear all children seemed to have at some point when it came to the Sorting. “But that’s normal. Each of us are our own person. We don’t have to follow after others if we don’t want to.”

Anger flared in the young Malfoy’s face masking the fear poorly. “You’re from a family of Hufflepuffs, aren’t you?”

“No,” Harry responded calmly, gaze never wavering from the other boy’s face in the mirror. “Gryffindor and Slytherin.” Harry shrugged again, looking elsewhere as he added as an afterthought, “I heard the Hufflepuff House is located near the kitchen, though. Do you think they sneak into the kitchen after hours and return with armloads of food for those studying late? I don’t think the other Houses could do that easily.”

Amusement flittered through Severus at the confusion that filled the young Malfoy. It would take very little to get the Malfoy heir out from under his father’s ideologies, especially if Harry chose to become the boy’s friend.

Harry spoke up before the young Malfoy could sort through the confusion. “I hope you get into Slytherin like you want. It sounds like a good house and I wouldn’t mind being in it. Or Gryffindor. I don’t think I could manage being in Ravenclaw, though. I like learning but I don't like tests.”

“All done with you, my dear,” Madam Malkin informed Harry, pulling the robe off carefully. Harry hopped down from the footstool and quickly crossed to Severus. Severus placed his hand on Harry’s back again and returned them both to the front of the store. If the young Malfoy caught sight of him, the boy didn’t speak up.

It would be almost fifteen minutes before they stepped back out onto the street. The shop was busy and while it didn’t take long for Madam Malkin to process the order and allow Severus to pay, there were others in line who took far more time.

They met Remus and Snuffles at the edge of the parlor’s patio. Snuffles pressed into Harry’s chest and the boy seemed quite happy to wrap his arms around the massive dog’s neck. Remus settled at the railing close to Severus, his voice carrying weakly across the short distance. “It seems we had good timing. Flourish and Blotts had been a madhouse and I wasn’t sure if we’d get out of there before the next hour. If any of the other shops are equally busy, his wand will have to be the last thing we do.”

Severus covered Remus’s shoulder and was surprised to feel the man quaking. It immediately changed his words. “I can go get his remaining supplies. Do you want to stay here or return to the room?”

What little color still filled Remus’s cheeks faded as the werewolf sagged into the railing and, for a moment, Severus thought Remus was just dropping his walls for a brief moment. But then Snuffles was suddenly there pressing against the front of Remus’s legs and Severus realized that it wasn’t the case. Severus felt Harry at his side but the boy didn’t reach out. Severus placed a hand on Harry’s head to keep track of the boy’s location as he quickly stepped in front of Remus. Both of his hands went to the man’s shoulders. “Remus,” he spoke gently, not expecting a response.

He didn’t get one. The seconds passed with no response from Remus but neither he nor Snuffles moved. Harry fully moved to the railing a few paces away, hands latching onto the bars as he settled his back against it. It was almost a minute later before Remus’s right hand released the railing to grip at the handle on Snuffles’s vest. Between them, Snuffles shifted about but Severus didn’t bother to glance at the dog. It would be almost five minutes before Snuffles sat down. It was a good sign, a sign that Remus was out of the worst of it. Severus moved a hand from Remus’s shoulder to the side of Remus’s neck, palm finding the pulse point as he tried to get a verbal response again. “Remus.”

Remus blinked his eyes open, gaze unfocused somewhere near Severus’s chest. It was a few seconds before Remus managed a faint, “I’m ok now.”

Remus took his weight off of the railing. Severus let his hands fall away only to find Snuffles’s head underhand; he absently rubbed at the dog’s head as his attention remained on Remus. “I will meet you back in the room. There is no need for you to be out here any longer. Not today.”

“But Harry’s wand-”

“You do not have to be present for that,” Severus cut in gently. Snuffles’s head slipped from his hand but he barely noticed. “And it would be wise to not push yourself much longer.”

“I want to be there when he gets his wand, Severus,” Remus countered, more hurt than offended. “Neither of us want to miss that.”

Barely any of the color had returned to Remus’s face but he knew there was no point in fighting Remus on this. He had no right denying Remus and Sirius this. “Then I will be expecting you to take care of yourself along the way. Set the pace and speak up when you need to stop. Once we are done at Ollivanders, you return to the room.”

Remus’s grip on Snuffles’s harness handle slackened as the man nodded.

Harry’s hand wrapped around Severus’s but when he looked down at the boy, Harry’s gaze was on the ice cream parlor. Severus met Remus’s gaze again. “Do you want anything from the ice cream parlor?”

“Just the use of their patio railing for a bit longer.”

“We will be as quick as the line permits, then.”

Remus waved the comment off, returning his weight to the railing. “Take your time. I’m in no hurry to start moving yet.”

He was sure Remus heard the soft, “Good,” that had fallen past his lips but the werewolf didn’t comment on it, not even when he and Harry returned with an ice cream cone each. A good amount of the mint chocolate chip in Harry’s cone was already gone, the boy happily devouring the cold, sweet treat. Severus waited until they were back with Remus and Snuffles before biting the top two inches off of his chocolate cone. Remus gave him a fond look and Severus gave him a rather muted glare.

Remus led the way through the shopping district at a pace that was far slower than the rest of the bustling crowd. Snuffles placed himself between the crowd and Remus leaving Severus and Harry to take up the shop side. It didn’t take long before Harry had moved to be closest to the shops happily looking at everything they passed. Despite the pace, they soon reached a shop that was oddly empty compared to the bustling street before it. The shop itself was narrow and shabby with peeling gold letters over the door reading “Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.”. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

The sound of a tinkling bell from somewhere in the depths of the shop greeted them when Severus pushed the door open. The shop was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair off to one side. Remus moved to the chair without a word and settled as if he was waiting for the next train. Snuffles had gone with him but once Remus was settled and the leash was unclipped, the massive dog trotted over to Harry’s open side and pressed into it. Harry draped an arm over Snuffles’s back but while there was no sign of easing in the boy’s back, he was leaning against his Godfather.

The shop was just as oppressive as Severus remembered it but, unlike the first time he had been there, he could now explain why; the very dust and silence seemed weighted down by heavy, wild magic that he had only ever felt around Madam Gold leaving behind a sense of foreboding underneath the weight of magic.

“Good afternoon,” a soft voice greeted. Even more rigidity filling Harry’s back. Severus quickly reached over and gave Harry’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as Snuffles sought out Harry’s other hand. The boy started mindlessly rubbing at the dog’s head but those green eyes had yet to leave the point the voice had come from.

An old man moved into the space, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. There wasn’t a response from any of them yet the man nodded. “Ah, yes. Yes, yes. It is about time for you to have your own wand, isn’t it, Harry Potter.”

The old man’s gaze flickered from Severus to Remus and Severus immediately spoke up, stemming off what would undoubtedly be a long winded conversation as cordially as he could manage. “It would be best if we did not dally with small talk, Ollivander. If we could get started, it would be appreciated.”

“Of course, of course!” Ollivander assured him, pulling out a long tape measure with silver marking. “Now, Mr. Potter, let me see. Which is your wand arm?”

Harry raised the arm on Snuffles’s back. Ollivander looked down at the dog when Snuffles remained in place. For a moment there was a staring contest between the old man and massive dog before Snuffles huffed and returned to Remus. The old man repositioned Harry’s arm with a quick touch before stepping away and letting the tape measure start measuring on its own. “There we are. Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter,” Ollivander explained, walking off to flit about the shelves taking down boxes as he went. No matter where he went, his voice filled the shop perfectly. “We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another’s wand.”

The tape measure dropped to the floor from Harry’s wrist as Ollivander set a stack onto the counter. The old man offered Harry a wand, handle first. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Harry didn’t move.Severus gave the boy a gentle push forward. Harry stepped forward and took the wand but he barely had it in his hand to give it a flick when Ollivander snatched it away.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-” Harry had hardly raised it before it was snatched back. “No, no- here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy.”

Wand after wand passed through Harry’s hand and with each wand, the more frustrated and tired the boy grew. Severus was sure the growing pile of discarded wands was not helping and knew without a doubt that the fear of never finding a wand was starting to settle in. But where Harry was growing more uneasy, Ollivander only grew happier with each wand he had to pull from the shelves. With the latest wand joining the discarded, Ollivander disappeared back into the stacks talking more to himself than Harry or the others. “Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere.” Severus returned to Harry’s side and ran his hand through the boy’s hair. Harry shot him a pleading look, very much done with the whole ordeal. “I wonder, now- yes, why not,” drifted towards them before Ollivander appeared again. The one box Ollivander brought back was excessively dusty. Only a few boxes had been dust free but even the dustiest had shown signs of handling with how the dust appeared patchy on the lids. This one, though, had a layer of undisturbed dust thicker than any box prior and the only signs of handling were from the cleared patches of Ollivander’s handling. “Unusual combination: holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

As soon as the boy’s hand had wrapped around the wand, the disheartened expression on Harry’s face immediately changed to surprise. With a wide sweep through the air, a stream of gold and silver sparks shot from the end of the wand like fireworks, throwing dancing spots of light on the walls. There was happy clapping and barking from Remus and Snuffles. “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good,” Ollivander cheered right along. Harry’s arm returned to his side, his entire body sagging with relief. Still standing at Harry’s side, Severus saw the awe and wonder as Harry slowly rolled the wand in his fingers.

Something changed, like a switch had been flipped, and it put Severus on edge. His hand settled on Harry’s shoulder as he drew the boy close. His gaze was on Ollivander just as the old man started to speak. “Well, well, well…how curious….how very curious…”

“Something interesting?” Remus questioned from near the chair. Severus was unwilling to glance and find out if the other was approaching or not.

Ollivander offered the open box to Harry. “I remember every wand I have ever sold. Every single wand.” Once Harry had carefully placed the wand inside, Ollivander closed the box and wrapped it in brown paper. “It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in Mr. Potter’s wand gave another feather - just one other.” Apprehension filled Severus’s chest as Ollivander’s gaze settled on Harry’s scar. “It is very curious indeed that he should be destined for this wand when its brother gave him that scar.” He heard Snuffles let out a low growl but Ollivander continued as if he was oblivious to the sudden agitation in his shop. Severus pulled Harry behind him. “Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember, and I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great.”

Snuffles pressed into Severus’s front as he felt Remus’s hand gently grab at his shoulder. The hand slipped from his shoulder as Harry’s body left his personal space. Severus knew Remus had Harry without looking back. He tugged on Snuffles’s harness to get the massive dog to go after Remus but Snuffles refused to budge. Annoyed but not willing to deal with it now, Severus put the coin on the counter, stating flatly, “It would be ill advised to repeat this conversation with anyone.”

Ollivander pushed the wand box towards Severus, nodding as if he hadn’t heard the threat in those words. “Of course, of course. Not to worry.” Those wide pale eyes were tight around the edges as if it was the only sign of annoyance the wandmaker couldn’t hide. “I am a humble wandmaker, afterall. I lack what is required to affect things in such ways.”

The press of magic still thick in the air had Severus severely doubting that. Hand still painfully tight around Snuffles’s harness handle, he left the shop.

Stepping out into the bustling street should have been a relief, a return to safety. Instead, he stepped into a warzone. At least three individual buildings on the other side of the street were engulfed in flames, the heat from the closest one caressing his skin where the scorching sun amplified it. People were running, children screaming, and his gaze immediately snapped towards an explosion down the street. The hot sand slid into the sandals he wore as he slid his foot across what counted as pavement but the hot grit barely registered under the overwhelm of what he was witnessing.

A body shoved passed him, something shouted, and he knew he needed to take action. He had to help - he was supposed to be there to help - but he had left his wand in the room above - stupid, idiotic - and he was useless without it.

He tried to back up, tried to go into the building he had vacated, but there was a tug on his left arm as if he was holding onto something unmoving and for a brief, bewildered moment, he found himself panicking.

Something cold and wet pressed into the palm of his other hand and it was quickly followed by something warm and equally wet sliding over the inside of his wrist. Jerking his hand away, the world snapped back into place around him, the sounds of a bustling Diagon Alley almost deafening by contrast alone. The sun was hot on his hair and the sleeves of his robe but it was more like a warm caress than the scorching heat it had been only moments before.

Snuffles’s nose pressed into his palm even where he had raised it, the motion tugging on the harness handle Severus was still firmly clasping. Severus lowered his hand, dodging the dog’s snout in order to rub the dampness on his skin into the back of Snuffles’s neck.

It seemed enough for Snuffles. Waiting long enough for him to complete the action, Snuffles turned and started towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Remus was waiting a few paces off with Harry cradled against his chest. He didn’t say a word - didn’t even spare Severus a glance - as he clipped the leash back into place and fell into step beside them when Snuffles came within reach.

The room was blessedly quiet when they entered. Remus carried Harry to bed, softly announcing that they were taking a nap. Sirius quickly changed back to human once the harness was removed and turned to Severus. “See if you can’t join them. I’ll go get the rest of his supplies.”

“Stay here where you are needed,” he bit out. Sirius raised an eyebrow, not quite believing him. “I am perfectly capable of-”

He flinched when Sirius took a hold of his shoulders. Severus glared at the taller man, frustrated that Sirius was proving him wrong before he could even voice his retort. “I’ll be quick,” Sirius assured him, those hands moving to gently squeeze his upper arms. “Will even put on a glamour so that I don’t get recognized. If you don’t want to join them, at least try to relax.”

“You cannot stop me from finishing the shopping.”

Sirius grinned. “Probably not, but I’m trusting your Slytherin ways to exploit the fact that I’m giving you an out.” That grin faltered under the concern that filled Sirius’s expression. “Please, Severus. Let me do this for you.” The grin came back but it was stained. “Can’t have the dour Potions Master ending up on the front page from blowing up some mom and pop shop.”

He rolled his eyes, offended. “I would never-”

“I know,” Sirius soothed, squeezing his arms. “Go sit down for a bit and read. I’ll be back shortly.”

Sirius stepped away leaving frigid air in his wake. With a quick flick of his wand, Sirius was sporting the same hair color he had the week prior at the amusement park. With a quick pull, the majority of Sirius’s hair was up in a sloppy knot tied in place by a ribbon of velvet green that had suddenly appeared in the man’s hand. Whether from a spell or a pocket, Severus didn’t really care. He offered Sirius Harry’s list when the man looked ready to leave.

“I’ll be back in a few hours if the lines are terrible,” Sirius commented with a grin. “Don’t wait up.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Despite the ideas that had floated around of going back out, they had ended up spending the rest of the day in the room. Severus wasn’t sure he napped so much as sat in a daze staring out the window. Harry brought him out of it with a soft touch to his knee, magazines in hand. Sirius was at the room’s kitchenette cooking, leaving Severus clueless as to how long he had been sitting by the window. Still, he helped the 11-year-old into his lap and settled in with the boy against his chest.

Somehow he fell asleep like that, waking only when Sirius touched his shoulder calling his name softly. Sirius gave him a soft smile, informing him, “Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”

Harry and Remus were already at the table as Severus stood from his chair. He joined the pair, inquiring politely, “Did you get some rest?”

Remus chuckled. “Not nearly enough, but yes, I did. Harry didn’t sleep nearly as long as I did though.” Remus reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair as Sirius placed Harry’s plate on the table. The boy accepted the touch without much reaction, spearing a gravy soaked carrot with his fork that promptly vanished into the boy’s mouth. “What of yourself?”

“As unintentional as it had been, the nap was probably needed.” Severus gave Sirius a nod of thanks as the man placed a full plate before him. “Though how restful it had been is left to be determined.”

“Hopefully it helped,” Sirius spoke up, joining them with his own plate. “What do you think, pup?” Sirius directed at Harry. “Did we get enough rest to go check out the Golden Jubilee Bridges one last time?”

When all Harry did was shrug and shove another carrot in his mouth, a mild concern filled the air between the adults. It was Severus, though, who asked, “What are you thinking about, Harry?”

Harry’s gaze remained on his plate chewing on the carrot as he mulled over the question. “Is…” Harry started but nothing more followed. Harry took another bite before he finally asked, “Are people really expecting me to do great things?”

Remus offered gently, “People will always have expectations of others, be it for you to do great or someone like Severus or Sirius to do something horrible.”

Harry’s gaze came up, a deep frown across the boy’s face. “Why would they expect Sirius to do bad things?”

Sirius said, “You see us as who we are, Harry, but others won’t. They’ll only see me as a Black despite how much of a black sheep of the family I’ve been. The Black family has a reputation of being Dark followers through the ages and that isn’t going to go away simply because I’m not.”

“But do I have to do great things?”

Severus frowned as he caught a glimpse of the weight that he hadn’t noticed had settled on the child’s shoulders.

Sirius shook his head, assuring Harry, “Only if you want to, pup. No one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” There was a brief pause before Sirius added, “Are you thinking of something specific?”

“Do I have to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he comes back?” All three men jerked back in shock. They had never censored their use of the Dark Lord’s name. Remus and Sirius had made sure to break Severus’s use of “Dark Lord” to replace it with the madman’s name barely two years after they had effectively kidnapped Harry. Harry using the censored name Ollivander had used spoke volumes.

“Absolutely not,” Severus said. The words were hard but he did his best to counter it with a soft expression. “You are a child, Harry, and children are not soldiers. The only thing expected of you is your continued growth as a person until you are no longer a child. When that time comes and you wish to help stop him, do so to the capacity you are comfortable with. You will never be responsible for bringing down any Dark Lord regardless of what others say.”

“But they call me The Boy Who Lived like it means something.”

It came out as a wary whisper as Harry’s doubt finally showed. Severus reached out in tandem with the others. His hand found Harry’s head while Remus’s went to Harry’s shoulder and Sirius’s covered one of the boy’s hands. Harry covered Severus’s hand with his free one. Severus was adamant as he said, “Harry, you are not responsible for saving anyone, especially not at the age of eleven. You will never be responsible for saving anyone until you come of age and have chosen a career path that requires you to do so. Each of us here will do everything in our power to make sure you are able to be a child for as long as possible, so focus on being young for as long as you can.”

“Does that mean I still have to go to school?” Harry asked with large doe eyes and a faint smile.

That broke the tension and Severus found himself smirking. Sirius started laughing while Remus chuckled softly across from Severus.

“Yes, you still have to go to school, do your homework, and help around the house when we ask,” Severus returned. His smirk fell as he returned them to the serious conversation. “For as long as we are here, you will never have to face any of this alone. Let us handle the bad guys while you focus on finding new things to study.”

Harry beamed at the three of them, seemingly content with that. “Ok.”

It wasn’t until hours later when Harry was in bed that Sirius brought the conversation up.

“We can’t let Harry go to Hogwarts if that was any indication of what his entire experience is going to be,” Sirius said, plopping down on the couch. The man waved a hand, clarifying, “The whole thing with Olivander.”

Severus glared at nothing in particular, settled once more in the chair by the window. “He will be expected at Hogwarts come September 1st whether we think he should be there or not. We had agreed to let Harry choose. It would not be wise to negate his decision now due to personal feelings on the matter.”

“It would also avoid angering Dumbledore and provoking him into doing something that would cost us Harry,” Remus added sharply, the words quiet. Out of all of them, Remus seemed the most agitated despite being tucked into the other side of the couch. Sirius placed a hand on the man’s knee, gaining a taut smile. “Sorry. It’s just- certainly you both know where this is going. Dumbledore will make a child soldier, a martyr out of him when Voldemort returns.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Sirius stated with such conviction, Severus was almost convinced they could.

Severus shook his head. “As long as Harry ends up in a House that will allow him to have a childhood, then he should be fine regardless of how much interference we are capable of managing between him and Dumbledore.” Severus sat up a bit more in the chair. “Speaking of: he had a conversation with Lucius Malfoy’s boy, Draco, while we were in Madam Malkin’s. I doubt the young Malfoy ever realized who he had spoken with and most likely won’t until they are at Hogwarts. That aside, the topic of Houses came up as it does with any cluster of new students. Harry made a rather good argument for Hufflepuff, as much of an argument as being close to the kitchens can be.” The other two chuckled at that. “He did state enough that I think the only House placement he is concerned about is Ravenclaw.”

Remus spoke up. “I can understand that. With the main thing about Ravenclaw being knowledge, it isn’t a stretch to think he’d assume that there would be high levels of expectations when it came to knowledge and scores if he was sorted into Ravenclaw, even if we weren’t the ones holding those expectations for him. Ravenclaw isn’t known for its compassion when it comes to those that don’t fit their status quo, even in our school years.” Remus gained a fond expression. “As intelligent as he is, he’s never been fond of studying to the degree his housemates will expect of him.”

Sirius agreed, commenting, “I don’t think we have to worry about him ending up there. He’s more likely to end up in our Houses before he ends up there.”

“And Hufflepuff.” Severus met their gazes evenly and he expanded on his comment. “As much as we want him in our Houses, I would not brush aside the possibility that Harry could end up in Hufflepuff. He reminds me of my Hufflepuff students just as often as he reminds me of the other Houses, Ravenclaw included.”

“So, what, you’re going to tell me I can’t root for him to be in Gryffindor?” Sirius asked, feigning offense.

Severus snorted a laugh. “Knock yourself out. Just leave Harry out of it.”
The mid morning crowd of King’s Cross Station swallowed them as they entered the massive building, a familiarity that came from traveling often. Harry expected the same comfort that always came from that familiarity but the apprehension remained heavy in his chest.

He hated it. There was no need to worry; he was well aware that there was no point in worrying. Everyone had reassured him multiple times that Sirius taking Harry as himself would be fine, that anything that could go wrong could be handled. But for Sirius to be at Harry’s side with no hint of disguise or as the all too familiar large black dog was setting off every warning bell Harry had and he couldn’t quiet them.

Sirius ruffled his hair, the trolley listing slightly to the right despite the weight of Harry’s trunk. “You’ll have a great time at Hogwarts, Harry. Don’t you worry.”

He offered Sirius a soft smile, one he knew Sirius would see as appreciation. Harry couldn’t correct him. It would only lead to the same reassurance he had been getting for the last day of “it will be fine” and “nothing will happen” as if what they had been doing the last few years was no longer relevant.

Why did they have to call Remus in? Why couldn’t they have left them alone for one more day?

Sirius led the way through the crowd and beyond the barricades leading to Platforms Nine, Ten, and Eleven. Sirius muttered, “This way,” as he sharply turned the trolley around a group of people keeping Harry at his hip. It wasn’t until they had already slipped through the barrier that Harry realized avoiding the group had not been Sirius’s actual intent.

There was a slight coolness to the illusion as Harry stepped through but, beyond that, it was like the illusionary wall didn’t exist. Glancing back, he caught sight of the wrought-iron archway with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it and the brick of an illusionary wall. Ahead of them, a scarlet steam engine waited next to the bustling platform. A sign overhead read ‘Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock’ as smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd. Cats of every color wound their way between the legs of passersby and owners, the assortment of meows mixing with the disgruntled sort of hoots coming from caged owls blending with the rest of the noise in a unique sort of cacophony of sound.

Harry’s gaze strayed on the massive steam engine as Sirius guided him towards the passenger cars. Trains were not an unfamiliar sight but that didn’t detract from the awe that filled Harry upon seeing the massive machinery.

The apprehension wasn’t ebbing.

Sirius’s footfall faltered beside him and slowed to a stop. It pulled Harry’s attention from the train but when he looked up, all he saw was Sirius looking at something farther down the platform, a slight frown pulling at Sirius’s lips. It took a moment for Sirius to realize Harry was staring at him. Sirius ruffled his hair but it was half hearted at best. “Sorry, Harry. Looks like I’ve got to go rub elbows with some folks. Why don’t you go find an empty compartment and I’ll bring you your trunk when I'm done.”

“Ok,” Harry said even as it felt like someone had shoved their fist somewhere between his heart and lungs. He tried to ignore how it made breathing difficult. He tried to ignore how it pressed at his throat, itching like a scream he wasn’t going to release. This wasn’t a new situation. There had been plenty of times previously where one of his guardians had sent him on ahead to find their cabin or seats. Everything would be fine just like those other times and he would see Sirius again before the train left. He knew Sirius would come back.

That didn’t stop it from feeling substantial when the crowd finally swallowed Sirius several meters away.

Harry knew he ought to be looking for a compartment before they all filled but his feet remained in place and his gaze would not leave the point where Sirius had vanished. The desire to move was there but it felt oddly safer if he didn’t move.

The platform was full of motion, people coming and going all around him in a swirl of bodies. Beyond the point he was staring at, it was a hypnotic kaleidoscope of colors that eased the fist between his heart and lungs. He wasn’t sure why the movement at the other passenger car door drew his attention - maybe it was the red hair standing out in a sea of muted colors; or maybe it was because it had been abnormal, different than the rest of the drifting crowd in the way the motion had been quick and sharp in contrast - but he found himself watching two identical redheads hunker against the side of the train snickering. They were chest to back and leaning forward so much, it almost looked like they were stacked on top of each other. Their bodies faced Harry with their right shoulders firmly against the train but their attention was on the people coming off the train as if they were waiting for someone specific.

Unconsciously, curiosity nudged Harry’s feet forward until he became aware of his own motion barely a few steps away and forced himself to stop.

The bottom redhead glanced at Harry and tension shot through Harry’s body at the eye contact, uncertainty and a different sort of apprehension now thick in his body. The bottom redhead only raised a finger to grinning lips and turned their focus back towards the train.

Not even a breath later, a new redhead that could pass as the duo’s sibling stepped off the train talking to someone still in the stairwell. The duo lit up. They waited until the new redhead had made it a few steps away from the train before pouncing.

The new redhead gave a shout before grabbing at the pair. The new redhead missed and was left to shout after the cackling duo disappearing into the crowd. “Fred! George!” the new redhead bellowed. “Get back here and apologize this instant!”

An unfamiliar hand settled on Harry’s shoulder.

Instinct immediately dropped his shoulder out from under the contact, his body turning with the momentum to face whoever had touched him. It took two large steps back for him to feel as if he had his space back. Unfortunately it also put him too close to the door and he was forced to take a step towards the stranger.

To his relief, the stranger was already uttering an apology that mirrored the apologetic look plastered across the stranger’s face. “I’m sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to make sure you were ok and didn’t need any help.” The stranger offered a hand, a sheepish smile settling into that apologetic look. “I’m Cedric Diggory, Third Year Hufflepuff. You’re a First Year, right?”

Harry nodded slowly even as he automatically reached out and shook Cedric Diggory’s hand. Practice had ingrained the good grip Sirius always encouraged - even Severus and Remus had confirmed it would leave a good impression on people - and there was a faint curiosity of whether or not Cedric Diggory would notice. “Harry; and I’m ok. Thank you, though.”

Surprise filled Cedric’s face and for one heart stopping moment, Harry thought he’d done something wrong. It had not escaped his notice that his guardians adapted their greetings to the regions they visited and Harry had simply followed suit. It always felt like a betrayal to Tanner to not include his pronouns - not to mention it just felt weird - but that didn’t change the fact that this was not the place for such things. Nor was saying his full name. He didn’t have the luxury of having his guardians around to protect him from the onslaught that would surely follow if people found out he was that Harry.

Before he could do anything about his growing concern, Cedric grinned at him big and bright. “You lived abroad, didn’t you?” Harry’s confusion must have shown because Cedric clarified, “It’s your accent. It’s not overly obvious so don’t fret about it too much. I have a friend who has a similar accent - thicker, mind you - so it’s really the only reason why I picked up on it.” Cedric opened his mouth to add more but something over Harry’s head briefly caught the other’s attention. “Are you sure you don't need any help?” Harry nodded again. Cedric’s shoulders relaxed and Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know why Cedric was relieved. “Then I best be off. It was nice to meet you, Harry.” Cedric offered a hand to Harry again, grinning once more. “If you ever need any help, come find me even if you end up in a different House.”

“I will. It was nice to meet you, too, Cedric.” Harry shook Cedric’s hand and watched the other head towards the back of the train and disappear into the crowd.

The platform was fuller now. Out of habit, Harry turned and entered the passenger car. One glance up the train showed a thick crowd of students milling about and Harry quickly turned right in hopes of finding someplace less crowded. He should have walked along the outside of the train. The corridors were not meant to have so many bodies passing through or pausing in doorways to chat with familiar faces. The air quickly became hot and stagnant and it was all Harry could do to keep moving. It would get better as long as he kept moving. All he had to do was find a compartment and he would be fine. But the mass of bodies in the hallway pressed in on him and the air was growing too thick. He just had to keep moving. If he kept going-

A body cut him off not for the first time. Irritated by everything and very much just wanting to find someplace where he could block the world out, he tore his gaze from knee level to glare at whoever had stopped in front of him. He blinked, immediately losing the glare as he found one of the redhead duo standing before him. There was an odd tightness to the edge of their curious expression. “Looking for an empty compartment?” Harry nodded slowly. That tightness could be just about anything on a stranger’s face but it reminded him of how concern showed on Severus’s face. “Car Four should still have one. Oi, Fred. Reckon we could help him find one?”

“Don’t see why not,” came from right behind Harry. His gaze immediately flickered back to pinpoint where the other of the duo was standing and, sure enough, Fred was standing right behind him. Surprisingly, the duo was managing to keep a body’s width between themselves and Harry in the bustling corridor. It created a much needed buffer from the pressing crowd. “Lead on, George. I’ll make sure our new friend doesn’t get swept away.”

The space between him and the two didn’t last long; the throng of people got too thick at pinch points. Being up against George’s back was much more desirable than being jostled by the crowd. Even Fred’s hand on his shoulder was appreciated rather than unnerving.

Car Four was emptier in comparison but it was still busy. George walked right past the first compartment without glancing in before opening the door to the second compartment. With a flourished turn and a rather deep bow, George stuck an arm into the doorway of the compartment, grinning. “Your coach, my liege.”

Confusion and amusement bubbled up and pulled his lips into an awkward little smile. He stepped up to the door. The compartment was indeed empty and he relished in the space he now had as he entered the small room fully. He offered the duo a proper smile and an honest, “Thank you. I’m Harry.”

“I’m Fred,” George replied.

“And I’m George,” Fred added without missing a beat. Harry’s confusion must have crossed his face because Fred-now-George was quick to grin and add, “Don’t fret about it.”

“No one can tell us apart,” George-now-Fred offered with a softer grin, that tightness still present at the edges of George-now-Fred’s expression.

“So we go with it.”

“And keep people on their toes.”

Fred-now-George winked at him. “Don’t worry about trying to remember who’s who.”

George-now-Fred’s grin seemed to gain a sharper edge. “No one can.”

That sounded like an awful thing. Harry nodded, put out by the prospect of following their encouragement but unable to verbalize it. Instead, a polite, “Thank you again,” slipped off his tongue.

“Any time,” the two chorused before leaving.

Fred moved to close the door as the duo left but something in the hallway caused Fred to step away leaving it open. To Harry’s delight, Sirius stepped into view just before Fred stepped fully out of sight.

“I see you’ve met two of Arthur and Molly’s boys,” Sirius commented, entering with Harry’s trunk floating along behind him. Sirius guided the trunk up into the luggage rack before a muttered finite brought the trunk back under gravity’s hold. “There we go. We stuck a few things in there to keep you busy if you need entertainment and some food in case you need something different than what the food trolley will have.” Sirius pulled out a tiny sack that fit nicely into Harry’s palm when he took it from Sirius. “That’s for the food trolley when it rolls by. Buy something even if you don’t eat it right away. That money is for spending and we want you to have fun on this trip.”

That ‘we’ weighed heavily on Harry as he nodded, stowing the tiny bag under several things in his trunk. Harry didn’t realize the pause had been awkward until Sirius cleared his throat. “Harry. When I was talking with some folks outside, I met a few I hadn’t seen in a very long time. One of them asked me to help find her niece and her niece’s friend a compartment since she herself could not stay to see the two off. Is it alright if they stay in here with you?”

“Of course.” Why was Sirius asking? Certainly Sirius knew that the compartment was going to have more than just Harry in it for the rest of the train ride. The compartments weren’t private in the same way other trains handled it; there hadn’t been a compartment number on his ticket like there normally would have been.

The grin that filled Sirius’s expression carried Sirius's relief. Had Sirius really thought Harry would have said no? Sirius ruffled his hair. “You’re a good kid, Harry.” The contact was gone the moment Sirius’s words ended and Sirius stepped back into the hallway. “You two can join this compartment if you want.” Sirius turned to face Harry but didn’t re-enter the compartment. Instead, two kids Harry’s age did. “Harry, this is Susan,” Sirius gestured to the first one that entered, “and Hannah. Susan, Hannah, this is Harry, my Godson.” Hannah offered Harry a small wave as Susan sat down in the seat next to the window opposite Harry’s trunk. “You three get to know each other while I grab your trunks and bring them in.”

Hannah sat down at Susan’s side, looking between Susan and Harry. Susan had a shrewd look while looking Harry over. Harry sat down opposite Susan in hopes that it would help her impression of him be a good one.

Finally, Susan’s gaze settled on Harry’s face, though it flickered towards the left side and his hairline briefly. “You’re The Harry Potter, aren’t you?” His breath caught for a moment as anticipation shot through his chest. He gave a slow nod. She gave a sharp nod in return, continuing, “They always talk about how there’s a scar on your forehead that looks like a lightning bolt but they never mention the actual extent of it. If you hid the lightning bolt on your forehead, no one would know who you were.”

Bewildered silence followed Susan’s statement. That was the most normal seeming response upon someone discovering who he was he had ever witnessed and he had witnessed a fair few despite his guardians’ attempts at keeping him oblivious.

Hannah was quick to break it, hands finding Susan’s arm as she squeaked, “Susan!”

Whatever she was going to add to it was disrupted by Sirius reappearing, this time with two trunks floating behind him. “Here you are, girls. Both of your trunks.”

Hannah hopped up like she had been electrocuted and quickly scrambled to Harry’s side of the compartment. Susan didn’t move. Instead, she calmly watched Sirius levitate both trunks into the luggage rack above her head.

Sirius glanced between the children before he settled his gaze on Harry. Hannah hurried back to her seat, tugging at Susan’s arm even before she had sat down. Sirius crossed to Harry, ruffling his hair one last time. “You should be all set. If you need anything, you know how to reach me or the others and I’ll see you in October.”

Harry got up and wrapped his arms around Sirius’s middle. It hurt in a way he couldn’t really describe when Sirius’s arms wrapped him up in a hug so tight, it threatened to steal all the air out of his lungs. He didn’t want to let go.

Sirius stepped back after what had to have been a long minute but felt like barely a second to Harry. With a quick kiss to the top of Harry’s head and a muttered, “Love you,” Sirius was gone from the compartment as a whistle cut through the air.

“That’s the warning whistle,” Hannah spoke into the stillness. Harry blinked and looked to his two compartment companions. Hannah was wrapped around Susan’s arm. “We’ll be leaving the station soon.”

Harry sat back down. Silence returned to the compartment despite the influx of noise in the hallway. It was quickly filled by Susan asking, “So have you looked anything up about yourself?”

“Susan!” Hannah said sharply, tugging on Susan’s arm. “Stop pestering him. It’s rude.”

“I’m not pestering him. Everyone is going to know who he is once we get to Hogwarts and I’d much rather ask him all this now instead of when everyone else is pestering him. It’s not like I’m asking after things I shouldn’t like others will.”

“But it’s not nice!”

“It’s ok,” Harry said. “I don’t mind.” Hannah looked upset at his acceptance of the situation but he turned his gaze back to Susan. “And no, I haven’t.”

“Why not?” Susan asked.

Harry shrugged. “Never thought about it.” He glanced between the two of them. If she was asking questions, there was no reason why he couldn’t, too. “You two been friends long?”

“Only for two years but we’re definitely aiming to make it at least ten,” Susan answered with a grin. Hannah’s cheeks turned a faint pink as she pressed her face into the side of Susan’s shoulder. A bit more subdued, Susan explained, “My auntie met her parents through work a long while ago but we only met two years ago. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Hannah leaned forward as if she had a big secret to share, the faint pink still dusting her cheeks. “Susan’s aiming to be like her Aunt and join the Ministry when we’re done with Hogwarts.”

Susan rolled her eyes though a blush had filled her cheeks. “You say that like it’s a deal. Besides, I have to get good enough grades for that and there’s no telling how bad I’ll be at school.”

“You won’t be bad,” Hannah countered, looking appalled at the thought.

“Your aunt works in the Ministry?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. She’s-”

A knock on the door frame cut through Susan’s statement and all three looked to see a lanky redhead standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Can I join you?” the new person asked. “Everywhere else is full.”

“Sure,” Susan said before Hannah or Harry could say anything. She stood, facing the redhead more fully. “Do you have a trunk with you?”

The redhead stepped aside, revealing a rather battered looking trunk. Harry and Hannah got to their feet and, between the four of them, managed to heft the battered trunk into the luggage rack next to Harry’s as the train shuddered. Harry glanced out the window to find the platform slowly sliding to the left. If Sirius was in the crowd of waving parents and guardians, Harry couldn’t pick him out easily. He gave a small wave to the crowd sliding by even if Sirius wouldn’t see it.

October couldn’t come soon enough.

“Thanks. I’m Ron Weasley,” the redhead said, plopping down into the seat next to Harry’s.

“Susan Bones,” Susan stated simply.

“I’m Hannah,” Hannah replied happily, taking her seat again.

“Harry.”

Ron turned all of his attention to Susan. “You don’t happen to be related to Amelia Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, are you?”

“She’s my aunt,” Susan answered, her words terse and defensive. “Why?”

Ron shook his head. “My dad works at the Ministry too; Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. He’s mentioned her a few times. Mentioned she had a niece too, not that I remembered the name.”

“You’re one of those Weasleys, then.” Ron looked offended at how she had said it and she was quick to amend with, “My aunt talks a lot about your dad. He’s a good man. She’s mentioned your brother before but I don’t remember his name. Works with curses mainly; they’ve needed his assistance a few times.”

“That would be Bill. Charlie works with dragons and they’re the only two working right now. The rest of us are still at Hogwarts or too young to work yet.” Ron looked between Hannah and Harry. “What about you two? Any family in the Ministry?”

Harry wasn’t actually sure if Severus counted as a Ministry employee, or if Ron would know of him, but Susan cut in before Harry could figure out an answer. “How many siblings do you have, Ron?” It was very obvious she was keeping the topic on Ron. Harry wasn’t sure if that was for Hannah’s benefit or his. Probably Hannah’s. She knew Hannah better, after all. “I’ve heard the Weasleys were a large family. How many are at Hogwarts?”

Ron frowned at her. “I’ve got three older brothers at Hogwarts and a younger sister who will be a First Year next year. Makes for seven of us and mom and dad. Why?”

“I saw a pair of redheads harass a third on the platform. Not saying all redheads are related but they were the same tall, lanky, and freckled as you.”

“Oi, there you are Ron.” Everyone jumped at the sudden voice. Standing in the doorway were Fred and George, both with mischievous grins on their faces. “Listen, we’re going up the train-” “Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron.

Hannah scooted forward on her seat. “A real tarantula?”

Ron squirmed in his seat as the duo’s grins turned genuinely happy. “Yeah!” “Want to come see it with us?”

Hannah was up out of her seat before the question was even finished. She paused, turning to Susan but gained a wave. “Go see the big spider,” Susan encouraged, nonchalant. “I’m staying here.”

Hannah nearly skipped out into the hallway as one of the duo said, “See you guys around,” before closing the door.

Susan’s gaze landed on Ron, a calculated sort of glint in her gaze. “Don’t like spiders?”

Ron gave a full body shudder. “Not in the slightest.”

Susan looked at Harry and Harry offered honestly, “I don’t mind them. I’ve handled tarantulas before but I prefer snakes and reptiles over insects and arachnids; I know how to care for them better.”

Ron leaned away from him in the familiar repulse Harry was used to getting from other kids but Susan leaned forward with interest, a rather rare reaction. Something about the way she focused on him reminded Harry of Sr. Ribeiro. “Do you keep any?”

Harry shook his head. “I would help a neighbor with the reptiles he rescued and rehabilitated. Most were adopted out but he’s sold the occasional few.”

“Why don’t you own one yourself?”

“I’m not old enough to take care of a pet like a snake or lizard,” Harry said simply. Not to mention he just didn’t like the idea of housing something in a tank even if Sr. Ribeiro said that the reptiles didn’t mind as long as they were in properly curated, properly sized tanks. He didn’t like being holed up in his room so he couldn’t imagine another creature enjoying that either.

To his surprise, Susan seemed angered by that, rolling her eyes as she settled back into her seat. “That same old argument. We’re eleven. We’re old enough to take care of a pet.”

“But it is true,” Harry quickly countered, bewildered. His voice stayed steady and matter-of-fact as he explained, “I don’t have a job so I can’t buy the supplies or take the creature to the doctor when it needs professional help. And I’m eleven; that kind of responsibility is for when I’m not filling my time playing and learning.”

Susan’s face scrunched up in frustration. “They’ve brainwashed you too, then.”

That seemed unfair but Harry could tell it would be futile to try and convince her otherwise. Yes he was repeating Remus, Sirius, and Severus’s words but that didn’t mean he was brainwashed. He truly believed their words. He’d seen how much work it takes to care for another creature from helping Sr. Ribeiro and had experienced it himself by helping out. Still, though, he asked cautiously, “What kind of pet do you want?”

“A dog,” she answered readily. “Or a cat. I would have been ok with a cat. Could have brought a cat along with me to Hogwarts but even that wasn’t enough to convince my auntie to let me get one. And there was the cutest tabby in the Diagon Alley pet shop window when we had gone for my school supplies. But really I want a dog again and my auntie’s being stupid about it.”

If there was a way to console her, Harry didn’t know what it was. He was fairly certain mentioning Snuffles would only make her misery worse. So, instead, he let her be and looked to Ron. “Do you have any pets at home?”

Ron blinked at him as if he hadn’t expected Harry to ask him a question. “I’ve got a rat.” Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat, sleeping gray rat. “He was Percy’s before my parents bought him an owl for being made Prefect but they couldn’t aff- so they gave me Scabbers.” He raised the rat briefly at the name, his ears going pink. The rest of his words tumbled out in a rush, “He’s useless; hardly ever wakes up.”

The trio was saved from an awkward silence by the compartment door sliding open. A cluster of older Years were at the door but the one that had opened the door seemed startled to find people in the compartment. A quick glance around and they offered a cheeky grin and a quick, “Wrong compartment.”

The person stepped back and the cluster shifted. Cedric - whether caught in it or having been part of the cluster - caught sight of Harry and waved. “Hi Harry!”

Harry returned the wave as the door slid closed and the cluster moved on.

“Who was that?” Susan asked.

“Cedric Diggory. I met him on the platform. He’s a Third Year Hufflepuff.”

“He seems like a Hufflepuff,” Ron commented. “All nice and stuff.”

Susan scoffed. “Just because someone’s nice doesn’t automatically make them a Hufflepuff.”

“Uh, yeah. It usually does.”

Harry jumped in, asking Ron, “what House are your brothers in?”

“Gryffindor. Why?”

“Fred and George helped me find an empty compartment earlier, which they didn’t have to do. Wouldn’t that make them Hufflepuffs for being nice?”

Ron scrunched up his face. “Well, they’re not nice. They were just doing that to get you to trust them so that they can prank you later.”

Susan’s eyebrow rose at that. “That sounds more Slytherin than Gryffindor to me.”

Ron looked aghast at the thought.

“It kind of does,” Harry agreed, “if you are limiting certain things to a specific House.”

Ron turned a distrusting glare onto Harry. “What do you mean?”

“The different Houses have different traits assigned to them, right? Gryffindors are brave, Hufflepuffs are kind, Ravenclaws are smart, and Slytherins are cunning; and because of that, people who are a part of the House are seen as just that trait but that doesn’t mean they can’t be like the other Houses.”

“Yes it does.” Ron crossed his arms defiantly. “You are only one House.”

Harry wasn’t sure Ron had understood what he had said. “I know a Gryffindor and Slytherin who could have easily been in Ravenclaw for their smarts alone. I know a Slytherin who is kind and brave even if others can’t see it. I know a Gryffindor who is cunning and sneaky but also kind. No one House holds claim to any trait.”

Ron shook his head but didn’t say anything as Susan spoke up. “More brainwashing?”

Harry shrugged, unfazed but disheartened at her challenge. “It sounds right to me. I’ve been brave and kind and smart and cunning and certainly you two have been, too. Wouldn’t that mean we would be in every House or no House at all?”

“What have you been the most, though?” Susan asked. Again, Harry shrugged. She crossed her arms putting on an air of importance. “Well, there you go. We can’t know because we haven’t been placed into our House yet. I will definitely be in Gryffindor. That’s the best one to be in to get into the Ministry without being corrupt like the Slytherins.”

“My entire family’s been in Gryffindor,” Ron muttered, though the look of displeasure could have been from earlier. “Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

Ron shuddered as Susan asked, “What about you, Harry? What House will you be in?”

“Most of my family was in Gryffindor but one of my guardians was in Slytherin.” He gave them both a sharp look when they reacted negatively to that. “He’s a good person. You don’t get to react like that to him without knowing him.”

“But Harry, he’s a Slytherin,” Ron said vehemently. “They’re bad wizards.”

“Not all of them.”

Susan leaned forward, her expression serious. “But most of them are. You can’t trust Slytherins, Harry.”

That was unfair. That was beyond unfair but there was nothing he could do beyond repeating himself over and over until he was hoarse. He trusted Severus as much as he trusted Remus and Sirius. He would trust a Slytherin if they were like Severus.

Hannah returned in the middle of the lull, beaming and unfazed by the energy in the room. Plopping down next to Susan, she happily asked, “What were we talking about?”

“Hogwarts Houses,” Susan informed her.

“Oooo!” Hannah exclaimed. “I have no idea what House I’ll be in. Hopefully a good one. I heard that two of the Houses are in the castle towers. Do you think they can see the Quidditch pitch? I wonder if you can watch a game from a distance.”

Quidditch immediately became the topic of discussion in the compartment. Harry didn’t really understand the obsession people had with Quidditch but the topic seemed like one everyone could talk about without getting too heated in a bad way. It reminded him of football; while he understood how to play and could, he didn’t get why people got so heated about a group of people running around a field kicking a ball into framed nets. Still, he contributed to the conversation when he could but was content listening to the others debate which professional team was the best.

It quickly became apparent that Hannah knew even less than Harry did about professional Quidditch so Harry popped open his trunk and grabbed a few of the things his guardians had stashed to pass the time.

Harry and Susan swapped seats. He played one of the simpler card games Tanner had taught him with Hannah while Ron and Susan continued talking about Quidditch, the fresh box of crayons and colored pencils open between them. They both had a coloring page from Harry’s new coloring book and, while Susan recognized everything, Ron had been intrigued by the nonmagic art supplies.

The card game lasted until the food trolley came by. A smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and asked, “Anything off the cart, dears?”

“Yes please,” Susan said, scrambling to her feet and into the corridor.

Hannah finished her turn before stepping out as well, a look of excitement on her face.

Harry moved to his trunk and rooted around for his little bag of spending money only to notice Ron hadn’t gotten up. The redhead was looking rather put out. “Are you not getting anything?” Harry asked as his trunk clicked shut. He tucked his little bag in his pocket as he returned to the middle of the compartment.

Ron looked up at him but the smile Ron gave wasn’t quite right. “I’m all good,” he said, pulling out a lumpy package. He unwrapped it revealing four sandwiches inside. He pulled one apart. “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.”

“Do you want anything?” Ron started to shake his head no but Harry simply added, “I don’t want to just randomly buy you something. I don’t know what’s available and what you’d like.”

Ron stared at him. “You’re…going to buy me something off the cart.”

“If you want something. I’ve got enough to buy us both what we want.”

Susan stuck her head back into the compartment. “If it’ll get you eating something, I’ll even pitch in.”

Ron was up and at the cart faster than Harry could have said chocolate frog.

The cart was well stocked but very little drew Harry’s interest. In the end, he bought a few chocolate frogs, a pumpkin pasty, and a cauldron cake where Ron picked a little bit of everything. Ron happily carried his haul back into the compartment looking loads better than moments before.

Susan frowned down at the few coins in her hand. “I didn’t bring much with me,” Harry heard her muttering to herself.

He gently nudged her arm with his, offering, “Pay for yours. I’ve got Ron.”

“But that’s almost a whole galleon for the both of you,” Susan countered in a harsh whisper. “I can’t let you cover all of that. Your guardians would be so pissed.”

Harry offered her a weak smile and an even softer, “It’s fine. I was lucky and was given plenty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ve got it.”

Susan paid for her collection of treats before Harry handed over eleven sickles and seven knuts. Harry closed the compartment door as he returned to his seat. He swapped all but two chocolate frogs for the soft lunch bag in his trunk. Susan and Hannah watched him with interest.

“What’s that?” Hannah asked before shoving a whole pumpkin pasty into her mouth.

“I was sent with food like Ron was.” He opened the bigger pocket of the bag to find six containers of varying sizes tucked into it. He could make out grapes in one of the smaller containers and immediately grabbed it along with the sandwiches and potato chips containers. Opening the top, smaller compartment he found two thermoses. To his delight, he found soda happily bubbling away inside one and his favorite juice in the other. He tucked the thermos of juice in among the three containers before returning the lunch bag to his trunk. He settled back into his seat and offered an open container of grapes to Hannah with a questioning, “Grape?” She glanced at the other two before happily popping a few in her mouth. Harry offered the container to both Ron and Susan, too, but only Susan plucked a few from within the container. Hannah easily ate half of Harry’s grapes as he left them accessible to her.

It wasn’t until he was nearly done with his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that Susan spoke up. “Harry, why do you have a whole bag of food?”

Harry popped the last corner of his sandwich into his mouth, looking from her to the other two. Ron was listening but didn’t seem overly curious while Hannah was just as attentive as Susan was to his answer. He drank the last of his juice to clear his mouth. “We travel a lot and since there isn’t always a guarantee of actual food between destinations, it’s kind of a habit to always take food with us. I think they mostly wanted to make sure I actually ate something on the train instead of waiting until dinner to eat something.”

“That makes sense,” Hannah said, wide eyed. “I’ll have to mention that to my parents when I write to them tonight. They’re going to feel so silly having not thought of that themselves.”

“What about the trip home, though?” Susan pointed out.

“I can clean the containers and just grab something from breakfast the morning of the trip back.”

“Sounds like a lot of work when there’s food on the train,” Ron said around a mouth full of cauldron cake.

“It is,” Harry agreed, looking at the containers he had to put back. “But I definitely appreciate being able to have more than pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes to eat so I think it’s worth it.”

“Isn’t that stuff illegal, though?” Ron asked. “I mean, that’s muggle stuff, ain’t it? And we’re not supposed to magic anything muggle in case it ends up in muggle hands.”

“None of this is magic made or spelled.” The others wore some variety of skepticism. Something bitter bit into him, making his face feel like it was starting to burn from a sunburn. “We went to a nonmagic store and bought them there. My guardians didn’t put any spells on them.”

An irregular, faint knock cut through the conversation before the compartment door opened. A round-faced kid that was probably their Year stood in the doorway looking tearful. “Sorry, but have any of you seen a toad?” the stranger asked. When they all answered in some variation of no, that tearful look turned distraught. “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”

“He’ll turn up,” Harry said.

Hannah quickly added, “He can’t have gone too terribly far, after all.”

“Yeah.” The stranger didn’t look reassured. “Well, if you see him…”

The stranger closed the door as the sentence was left incomplete. Hannah squirmed in her seat looking nearly as distraught as the stranger had. “Oh, I do hope he finds his toad. Losing a pet must be terrible.”

“If I had a toad, I would have lost it long before I got onto the train,” Ron commented, seemingly uncaring as he opened a chocolate frog.

“I don’t see you ditching Scabbers,” Susan countered sharply.

Harry was startled to hear the venom in Susan’s voice. He glanced at Hannah in surprise as Ron spluttered for a hot second. Hannah offered him a weak smile and leaned forward, offering quietly, “Susan’s family had had a dog when she was growing up. It died a while back so pets are often a touchy subject.”

That explained the pet conversation earlier too. When Harry returned his attention to Ron and Susan, they were both turned away from the other, arms crossed and fuming. “Do either of you know how to play chess?” The non-sequential question distracted them enough from their anger to give him affirming nods. “I have a new chess set. Do you two want to break it in for me? I want to color for a bit.”

“Oh! Can I color something too, Harry?” Hannah asked, effectively nullifying any remaining anger between the two on the other seat. “I haven’t colored with crayons in years!”

“Of course.” Harry stood. “Ron, trade me seats.”

The anger may have gone but the hostility was still there. Harry could tell by how aggressive the game was but at least the two had a healthy outlet to let that hostility out. Ron had been a little miffed - and probably a bit confused - at the sight of the nonmagical chess set but when Susan made the first move, Ron forgot all about his troubles with having to move the pieces by hand.

“I want some liquorice,” Hannah commented a handful of minutes later. Or maybe it was nearly an hour later, seeing as Harry had been too engrossed in his coloring to pay any attention to time. “Ron, did you get any?”

“Ate it all,” Ron commented absentmindedly, still very focused on the chess board between him and Susan.

“I can go get you some,” Harry offered, standing. With his focus broken, he was now acutely aware of the fact that he was feeling cramped and the idea of going after the food trolley sounded like a nice walk. “I want some more sweets anyways.”

“Let me get you some money, then,” Hannah said, putting her coloring page aside.

Harry waved her off as he opened the compartment door. “You can pay me back later. I’ll be back.”
“What are those?”

Harry looked up from the snacks, a colored pencil caught between his teeth. He hadn’t even realized he had stuck it there until the rather familiar voice had cut through his thoughts. He grabbed it with the hand holding five other colored pencils and asked, “What are what?”

“Those.” The speaker - where had he seen someone with platinum blonde hair before? - pointed at the small bundle of colored pencils in Harry’s left hand.

“Colored pencils,” he stated simply as he turned his attention back to the food trolley and picked up another packaged Liquorice wand. Three ought to be enough along with the small box of Liquorice Comfits.

“Colored what? Are those a muggle thing?”

Harry looked at the strangely familiar kid again in surprise. “Colored pencils,” he repeated. He was fairly certain he had seen colored pencils in a wixen supplies shop before though they may have been called something else. But when he didn’t answer the latter question quickly enough, the strangely familiar kid only made a face as if to retort. Harry quickly shoved the pencils into the other kid’s chest. “Here. Hold these for a second.” Automatically, hands came up and pinned the loose colored pencils in place. Harry shoved his hand into a pocket and paid for his stash of sweets. He snatched the pencils back with a quick, “Thanks,” and started for his compartment.

When Harry glanced back barely two steps from the food trolley, the other kid hadn’t moved. “Did you not want to know what these are?” he asked, gesturing with the tiny bundle of colored pencils. “I can show you what they are but we have to go back to my compartment first.”

There was a moment he thought the other kid wasn’t going to follow him but it was short lived. The other kid took a step forward and it was all that Harry needed to see. He led the way back to Car Four where he opened his compartment door and stepped inside. Harry gestured at each one he named before pointing to the seat next to his. “That’s Hannah, Ron, Susan, and I’m Harry. Sit there while I get the coloring book.”

He handed Hannah her sweets before picking up the coloring book from her side. She tugged the sheet she had been working on out and used the back of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration for her makeshift hard surface. He half expected the other kid to still be standing in the doorway when he turned around but the other kid had sat down where instructed to. Harry promptly placed the book in the other kid’s lap. “Flip through that until you find a picture you like,” he said and sat down.

“Why do none of these have any color?” the other kid asked, flipping quickly through the pages as dismissively as the words had been repulsed.

Harry pulled his page back onto his lap, his copy of Hogwarts: A History tucked under it as his makeshift hard surface. “They’re coloring pages. They’re blank so that you can add the colors yourself. See?” He showed the other kid his half colored dragon. “You use either these-” he held up the colored pencils- “or the crayons over there to fill in the picture.”

“Crayons?” the other kid parroted.

Hannah passed the box, what colors she was using still sitting on her lap. Harry offered it to the other kid. “Crayons,” he repeated. “You can use both or neither.” He picked up Ron’s rather colorful lion. “Ron’s never used either before too so he played with them.” He put the page back down before Ron glanced up. It was a passing glance and Harry was pretty sure Ron hadn’t even registered there was a new addition to the compartment. “You can use the opposite page to try them out and test colors and you’re welcome to use whatever you want.”

The other kid’s flipping had stopped on a peacock in a garden, tail folded across the ground. “And I can color it however I want?” the other kid asked, picking up a crayon and scrutinizing it.

“Of course. If the crayon or colored pencil becomes too dull or breaks, let me know. I have sharpeners.”

Companionable silence settled back over the compartment as the other kid became absorbed with coloring the peacock. The only disruption to the other kid’s concentration was a brief glance up when Harry moved to sit next to Hannah across from the other kid. Hannah had grown bored with coloring and now wanted to teach Harry one of her favorite card games. It filled the compartment with light chatter that would occasionally drift between the two different games for a good hour.

The compartment door slid open without preemptive, startling all occupants. There were two people at their door this time, though one was a familiar face. The stranger in front, though, spoke up, asking, “Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” Ron said dismissively, returning his attention to the chess board.

“Oh no,” Hannah said. “Your toad still hasn’t turned up?”

With a confirming no, Susan sighed, standing. “Come on, Hannah. Let’s help him look for his toad. Trevor, right?”

Neville nodded looking distraught again.

Hannah and Susan stepped out, chatting with the pair, as the kid sitting across from Harry abruptly stood up. “This is ridiculous. I’m going back to my compartment.”

The kid shoved out past Hannah, Susan, and the other two with a huff, colored pencils, crayons and the coloring book strewn everywhere in the act. Harry hopped up to call after the other kid but it was too late.

“Well that was rude,” Ron commented as Harry began picking up the colored pencils and crayons. “The least he could have done was say thanks.”

Harry didn’t comment as he picked the coloring book up. It was easy to find the peacock. It was the most beautifully colored picture in the entire book and it wasn’t even finished. The opposite page - blank so that color could bleed through without ruining another picture - was covered in colored pencil and crayon scribbles, a similar thing Harry did when he was testing colors and blends. The other kid had settled on the colored pencils and had used them with far more skill than Harry had ever been capable of upon first using them. Harry wondered if the other kid was just that talented or if there had been some practice with the medium. The half colored peacock looked morosely up at him and Harry knew it couldn’t stay unfinished.

Determined now, Harry quickly packed the colored pencils and darted out of the compartment with coloring book and colored pencil box in hand. Ron shouted after him but Harry didn’t understand what Ron had called out.

Harry caught up to the kid with the platinum blonde hair and that rather familiar voice halfway through Car Three where the other kid had been cut off by a gaggle of older Years spilling out of a compartment billowing purple smoke. The other kid had raised a sleeve to help against the noxious smell that slammed into Harry when he got close enough.

“Hey,” he quickly said, tapping the side of the other kid’s shoulder with the coloring book and box of colored pencils as he pulled his shirt over his nose. “Here.” When all he got was a bewildered look and no movement to take the items, he pressed them into the other kid’s chest, rushing, “You seemed to like them and I already have another set so you can have them.” It took him letting go of the items for the other kid to actually grab at them. He grinned and darted off before the other kid could say anything. “See you around!”

“I’m burning these!” the other kid shouted after him.

“Ok!” Harry happily chimed back without slowing. “Have fun!”

He really hoped the other kid wouldn’t - that would be a waste of good supplies - but they were the other kid’s to do with now and Harry wasn’t about to call a possible bluff.

Ron looked up from the chess set when Harry stepped back into the compartment, immediately asking, “What you go running off for?”

“I wanted to make sure they had the chance to finish the picture if they wanted to,” Harry offered as he started picking up the crayons.

“They?”

Harry made a face, glad his back was towards Ron. He really hated that he was going to have to get used to that. “The kid with the platinum blonde hair.”

“Why, though? He acted like an arse running out of here without a goodbye or even a thanks towards you.”

Harry shrugged. “Sometimes people forget those things when they’re in a rush.”

Harry hadn’t actually thought much of it. The other kid left because they had to leave. What did it matter if they said goodbye or not? Now, the scattering of his art supplies wasn’t very nice but most of it he had given to the other kid anyway so it didn’t really matter. And he broke crayons all the time so it wasn’t like he expected them to stay in perfect condition until they were nothing more than a nub of wax.

Susan returned first looking put out nearly an hour later. She flopped into the seat next to Harry and leaned against him, head finding his shoulder. Harry tensed, his entire body freezing in the motion to move his pawn as he looked at her. The scents that clung to her wafted over him and his first reaction was to recoil like he always did when suddenly hit with new smells. But rather than follow through with the initial reaction, he took a brief half second to sort through the smells and the need to withdraw fell away. There was a hint of lavender but it was barely noticeable. If it lingered much, he’d have a minor headache but that was better than what normally happened. Lavender was pretty smelling but it always left him with a headache. The other scents he couldn’t name but none of them were bad or too strong so he let her continue to lean against him.

“Didn’t find the toad?” he asked, finally placing his pawn back on the board on its new square.

“Not even a hint of a froggy footprint,” she bemoaned. She gave a little huff as she shifted her head. He assumed she was moving her head to watch Ron place a rook in a place Harry would rather he didn’t. Yep. He was losing this one. “You guys cleared our game.”

“I wrote down where everything had been in case you two weren’t done playing,” Harry commented offhandedly as he tried to counter the rook. Ron immediately took the piece Harry moved and Harry made a face. “Didn’t seem fair to clear the board without asking if you were done. Ron certainly seemed interested in continuing it.”

“Definitely,” Ron agreed, glancing at Susan. “If you’re up to finishing our game, I sure am. Felt kinda stupid I hadn’t thought to write down where everything was when Harry suggested it.”

Harry gave a dismissive wave of his hand before moving his bishop. “Magic made chess sets remember game setups if properly enchanted even if other games are played afterwards but even then most people just start a new game if they walk away and the board’s messed up.”

Susan hummed but didn’t comment further. The trio lapsed into silence for the remainder of the game.

He leaned back in a big stretch as Ron called checkmate. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.” He let his arms return to his lap. “That certainly went better than the last two, though. You’re really good, Ron. I think you might be better than even my guardians.” Ron’s ears turned pink as the redhead started resetting the board. Harry looked to Susan. “Did you want to finish up that game?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Trade me places.”

The compartment door opened as Harry and Susan traded places and Ron adjusted the board setup. Hannah stepped in and closed the door, taking the seat next to Ron with a troubled little frown.

“No luck?” Harry asked.

Hannah shook her head. “We’re hoping Trevor will show up once we’ve reached Hogwarts but Neville’s lost faith at this point.”

A disembodied voice spoke up, echoed in the corridor. “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.”

“Oh. Hermione had said we had to be close,” Hannah commented, gaze on the ceiling where Harry’s eyes had also flickered. “I hadn’t thought we had been that close. She had mentioned putting on our school robes so I guess we should do that now?”

“Might as well,” Susan stated, standing. “Harry, you mind doing your notes again? We’ll clean up the board when you’re done so that you can change too.”

Harry nodded and stepped over even as he asked Hannah, “Hermione?”

“The girl who was helping Neville. Lots of bushy brown hair.” Harry nodded even though he couldn’t remember what the person that had been with Neville had looked like. “Hermione knows a lot already and she’s only a First Year like us and Neville. I’m excited to see what House she gets.”

“How are we even placed in the Houses?” Susan asked, taking the updated piece of paper from Harry, school robe over what she had already been wearing; she had added a black tie. “My auntie wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Some sort of test, I think,” Ron answered first. “Fred said it hurts a lot but I think he was joking.”

“Maybe they pull our names from a hat?” Hannah suggested, though she didn’t sound very confident.

A soft smile pulled itself across Harry’s face. “Sort of,” he said, joining the conversation as he fixed his sweater’s sleeve in the sleeve of the school robe. “My guardians told me they place a hat on your head and it announces which House you’ll be in. One of them tried to convince me that we were going to have to try and get through a maze and the first House marker we made it to would be the House we ended up in but that only annoyed the guardian who told me the truth enough to tell me the truth.”

“A hat decides for us?” Susan asked, incredulous. Harry shrugged. She shook her head. “Better than a test. I’d rather not try and prove my worth against a mountain troll. I’d get squished and sent home as a disappointment.”

There were a few snickers at the joke but the nervous energy the joke had been made out of had permeated the compartment and it seemed to drive them to move in some way. The room lapsed into bustling silence as they all made sure they had everything. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd packing the corridor. Harry tucked himself in between the far wall and Susan in hopes of keeping himself from getting overwhelmed in the pressing crowd. To his relief, Ron and Hannah settled behind him while Fred and George - who had been in the compartment next to them and Harry hadn’t even known - took up the space in front.

“Ready for your big test, Ron?” one of the twins teased over Harry’s head. The other added seamlessly, “Don’t forget all the spells you already know.”

Ron threw something at the twins and it only made the duo start cackling as the train started to slow. When the train finally stopped, the crowd started out the doors at either end. There was some shoving but it was far more orderly than Harry had anticipated. Soon he and his - he hoped - new friends stepped out onto a small, dark platform. The cold night air slipped its way under Harry’s clothes and he shivered violently, grateful he had kept the sweater on. It was better than nothing but he still wished for a coat. Or a hat. And thicker pants. Definitely thicker pants.

A lamp bobbed over the heads of the students drawing the eye of many in the crowd. A voice boomed over the crowd from its direction. “First Years! First Years over here!”

Harry started making his way towards it with Ron, Susan, and Hannah close around him. They found themselves coming to the foot of a very large, very tall person with a cloud of darkness for a head. “Alright. Any more First Years? Come on, this way now!” As the person moved the lantern around, Harry realized the person’s head was actually a mane of hair and beard as dark as the night around them with black eyes glinting from the depths. A kindness that carried in the person’s words was prevalent in the glimpses Harry got of the person’s face. “Mind your step! First Years follow me!”

The giant of a person started down what quickly became a steep and narrow path. Students all around him slipped and stumbled on the uneven terrain and Harry himself staggered a few times wishing he had a light to see where he was stepping. Or a stick to help keep his balance. Twice Hannah ended up stumbling into him and after the second time, he managed to keep her on his arm afterwards instead of letting her step away. Together, arm in arm, they managed to continue on without stumbling more.

If Harry thought the trail was dark, either side was absolute darkness. It was rather unnerving and there was no telling if it was because of a wall or trees. He was assuming trees. A glance up showed trees but that didn’t stop someone from building a wall along the trail. If they had done that, why hadn’t they put steps in? Why weren’t there steps to begin with? Or a better maintained trail? This seemed ridiculous now that he thought about it. He’d have to remember to mention something to Severus. Maybe he could say something to the administration about it.

“You’ll get your first view of Hogwarts in a sec,” the giant person called out over a shoulder. “Just around this bend here.”

The narrow path opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake and a chorus of “Oooo”s and “Woah”s and other sorts filled the air as the students caught sight of what lay beyond. On the other side of the lake, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. It filled Harry with wonderment and awe and he heard Hannah’s quiet little, “It’s so pretty,” through the other chatter. The pictures he had seen of the castle had been poor imitations of the real thing and a quiet sort of panic filled Harry. The castle was huge, possibly bigger than anywhere else he had ever been, and he knew that it would be far too easy to get lost. He really hoped they gave students maps.

“No more than four to a boat!” was called out as the giant person pointed to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.

Immediately, Hannah’s hold on Harry’s arm tightened painfully.

“Ow,” slipped off his tongue in reflex but he quickly covered her hands with his and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Everything alright?” Susan asked, picking up on the sudden shift in Hannah.

“We-we’re going out on boats?”

Harry caught Susan’s concern ebb into understanding and sympathy. She met Harry’s gaze with a tight expression before she wrapped her arms around Hannah’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. Sit next to me and if you fall in, I’ll be able to get you out.”

Hannah trembled against Harry still clinging to his arm. “But what if you can’t?”

Harry gave her grip a squeeze. “I’ll sit in front of you and you can hold onto me and Susan. That way you’ll have two people to make sure you’ll be ok if anything happens.”

Susan looked to him sharply at the same time Hannah looked up at him but he couldn’t give Susan any of his attention just yet. Hannah needed it. “You sure?”

Harry nodded. “I’m a strong swimmer and I’m sure between me and Susan, we’ll be able to handle whatever happens.”

They had lingered enough to draw the attention of their guide. The giant person approached with concern radiating from the large figure. “You three alright?” Before any of them could get a word in edgewise, the person focused on Hannah. “Scared of the boats, are you?” Hannah nodded meekly. “There’s nothing to fret, lil miss. These boats are perfectly safe and it looks like you’ve got two good friends with you. If anything happens - which it won’t, mind you - you’ll get pulled out. I promise you that.”

Hannah hesitated before giving another nod. She seemed to have gained enough courage to follow through with the surprise trip across a lake. The giant person grinned and reached out, gently patting her on the head. “Good. No need to be fretting over something that isn’t going to happen. Now, there’s one boat left. You three better hurry on into it.”

They moved quickly towards the boats and Harry was grateful to see most of the students were still very preoccupied with clambering in to have noticed the three of them had stopped. Harry caught sight of Ron sitting in the boat Hermione and Neville were joining. A third student lingered not far from Neville’s quaking form. It seemed Hannah wasn’t the only one nervous about the journey ahead.

Harry caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair but he didn’t see who the other kid was sitting with.

The boat they joined already had a single occupant who looked completely unfazed by the entire evening, though that didn’t stop surprise from filling the content expression when the three of them approached. The single occupant stood up and offered a hand to Susan who approached the little boat first. “Welcome aboard,” the stranger spoke, an accent Harry half recognized blending with the English one the occupant had. “I’ll help you in.”

“Thank you,” Susan replied, taking the stranger’s hand and clambering in.

Sure enough, the stranger helped Susan maintain balance before offering the same hand towards Hannah once Susan didn’t need it. Susan also offered Hannah her hand, braced against the bottom of the boat.

Harry gave Hannah’s hold another squeeze when she hesitated. “It’ll be alright. They’ll help you in.”

“We won’t let you fall,” the stranger assured her.

Harry felt her chest expand as she took a deep breath before she stepped away. Her hands shook for the brief moment they were suspended over the pair of hands and as soon as Hannah took hold of their hands, both Susan and the stranger clasped her forearms with their free hand. Within the blink of an eye, Hannah was seated as centered on the boat as possible, Susan sitting right next to her.

The stranger offered Harry a hand, curiosity full in the stranger’s expression. “Want a hand as well?”

“Thank you,” Harry said, taking the stranger’s hand and stepping in. He wavered when the boat rocked under his weight but he was steady enough to sit without rocking the boat. The stranger sat down next to him.

"Everyone in?" rolled over the small boats. Harry looked towards the source and saw the giant person had settled into a boat as the single occupant with no room for another. “Right then. Forward!”

The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the water that was as smooth as glass. The boats closest to Harry’s were silent beyond the lapping of water against the wood hulls, its occupants staring at the massive castle they were slowly approaching. The stranger beside him shifted on the bench and offered in greeting, “I’m Blaise Zabini.” The words were spoken with a careful softness, as if the stranger wasn’t keen on being overheard. “Am I wrong to assume the three of you are friends?”

“Susan Bones. This is Hannah,” Susan spoke just as softly. “And no, you’re not. Though it isn’t that much of a friendship quite yet.”

“The two of them have known each other since before the train from London but we all shared a compartment on the trip up here and are friends now,” Harry explained. Doubt bit at him but Susan hadn’t outright denied there being a friendship now. Belatedly, he added, “And I’m Harry.”

A happy smile filled Blaise Zabini’s expression. “Pleasure to meet everyone. You three seem like good people; if it all works out, maybe we could be friends, too.”

Harry returned the smile. “That would be cool.” Going from just having Tanner as his friend to having at least four at Hogwarts would be wicked. At some point he was going to have to introduce Tanner to everyone. They all didn’t have to get along but Harry wanted them all to at least meet.

The castle towered over them as they sailed towards the cliff it was built upon. At first it seemed as if the boats would turn towards the shore not far off from the cliffside but then the call for “Heads down!” came from the boat at the head of the fleet, the very boat the giant person was sitting in, and the fleet continued onward. As each boat reached the cliff, the occupants would bend their heads and pass through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening with a rather low ceiling in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel which seemed to cut right underneath the castle before coming to a kind of underground harbor. The little boats came to a stop at the water’s edge and students clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” the giant person asked while checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

“Trevor!” Neville exclaimed blissfully.

The giant person passed a sizable toad into Neville’s awaiting hands before taking lead again. The giant person’s lamp led the way up a passageway in the rock that came out onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. The cluster of students followed the giant person up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front doors.

“Everyone here? You there. Still got your toad?” Harry assumed some affirmation was given because the giant person turned and knocked three times on the castle door.

A tall figure in emerald green robes stood just inside the castle entryway as the door swung open. Harry immediately recognized Professor McGonagall, though he had never met her. He probably wouldn’t have had it not been for the number of times Severus had to correct Sirius’s description of her. Sirius liked to tell his stories with far more flourish than Severus - and even sometimes Remus - cared for. There was one thing that all three of his guardians had been right about, though:

Professor McGonagall definitely looked like someone you didn’t want to cross.

“The First Years, Professor McGonagall.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Professor McGonagall said. Harry immediately felt silly. He should have known the giant person’s name. There was only one staff member that his guardians ever talked about that matched the giant person’s description. She took a step to the side and gestured inside. “I will take them from here.”

The entrance hall felt enormous as the gaggle of First Years filed into the space. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches that cast shadows in the farthest corners. If there was a ceiling, it was far within the depth of darkness above them. A magnificent marble staircase leading to the upper floors sat opposite of the doors, its bottom most steps fanning out across the flagged stone floor.

The drone of many voices drifted from a set of double doors off to their right. Harry wondered if that meant the rest of the student body had already made it to the school. Instead of leading them towards those doors, though, Professor McGonagall led them to a small, empty chamber behind a door not far from the main entrance. The First Years crowded in bumping shoulders with friends and strangers alike as a renewed nervous energy spread like wildfire.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall greeted. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

“The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” There was the soft sound of shuffling as some of the First Years fretted at their appearances. “I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

The chamber was quiet up until the door closed; immediately chatter filled the small room, most of it focused on thoughts about what was going to happen next. Hannah and Susan were whispering to each other at Harry’s side but it was too quiet for him to hear. Ron wiggled his way out of the crowd to join them only to lock eyes with Blaise. Blaise seemed quite content offering a hand and greeting. It took a moment before Ron returned it, any suspicion the red head may have held for the newcomer gone as they shook hands.

Several people behind Harry screamed and the collective jumped. Several people around Harry gasped. Nearly twenty ghosts streamed through the back wall, pearly white and slightly transparent. They glided across the room talking to one another without so much as a glance at the First Years. What looked like a pudgy little monk was finishing out an argument, saying, “Forgive and forget. I say we ought to give him a second chance-”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost- I say. What are you all doing here?” the ghost wearing a ruff and tights asked, suddenly noticing the First Years.

“New students!” said the friar, smiling around at them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

There were a variety of affirmations but most simply nodded in response.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” the friar said. “My old House, you know.”

“Move along now,” Professor McGonagall stated sharply as she returned. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.”

The ghosts left much in the same way they had arrived and floated through the opposite wall. Professor McGonagall paid the ghosts no mind as she directed, “Now, form two lines and follow me.”

There was a quick bit of shuffling of students as Professor McGonagall turned and started out the door. Blaise - already at Harry’s side - remained in place as Susan and Hannah hurried to be in front of them. Ron fell into place behind Blaise. For a breath Harry caught sight of platinum blonde hair somewhere behind him but it vanished too quickly for him to see. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through the pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

No story, no description of the Great Hall held a candle to the actual space. The double doors swung open into a massive room lit by thousands and thousands of candles floating in midair. Four long tables ran the length of the room where the rest of the students were sitting. Each table was laden with glittering golden plates and goblets awaiting food. Another long table at the top of the hall sat the staff members. Albus Dumbledore - a wizard of renowned magical prowess and good deeds - sat at the center of the table as Headmaster. His silver hair and beard were long enough that the ends were somewhere beneath the edge of the table. He had heard a lot of things about the Headmaster from his guardians - some good, some not so good - but the one thing they always said was how good the Headmaster was. Overbearing with kindness, but good.

He found Severus seated not far from the Headmaster and their eyes met. Harry gave a quick smile, hoping it was ok. He knew Severus wanted to keep their relations private but right now Harry was just happy to see a familiar face in the midst of so much unfamiliarity. There was a slight shift in Severus’s shoulders, one that the man hid by shifting in his seat, but Harry knew Severus had been relieved to see Harry too even if Severus hadn’t returned his smile like he normally would have.

Professor McGonagall led the First Years to the staff table and had them line up facing the student body. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like shining lanterns in the flickering candle light. The ghosts dotted the crowd as bright points of misty silver in the sea of black cloaks and candle lit faces. Harry turned his gaze towards the ceiling and found it missing. Instead, the walls simply disappeared into the velvety black night sky dotted with stars above. Someone whispered, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.” Harry remembered that passage; it didn’t do the ceiling any justice. Bewitched or not, it truly seemed like the Great Hall simply opened up to the sky above as if it had been built that way.

Movement at the bottom of his periphery drew his gaze back to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall silently placed a four legged stool in front of the First Years before placing a pointed hat with a wide brim on the seat. The hat was patched, frayed, and looked rather dirty from where Harry stood. He suppressed a shudder. The thought of putting a dirty hat that has seen who knew how many heads sent his scalp itching as the same pin prickling sensation danced down his neck. He really, really hoped it wasn’t actually dirty.

For a few seconds, there was silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing:


“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,
But don’t judge on what you see,
I’ll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There’s nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can’t see.
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff.
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don’t be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands (though I have none)
For I’m a Thinking Cap!”

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song, bowed to each of the four tables, and then became still. Harry clapped right along but it was more because everyone else was than anything genuine. The hat’s song had left him with an uneasy feeling settling in his chest and it was all he could do to not look back at Severus. He didn’t like how the hat had called each House out, how its words had come off when talking of the four Houses. Surely real friends could be made in any House, not to mention anyone could be witty or cunning or brave-

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. It was enough to quell Harry’s churning thoughts for the time being.

“When I call your name, you will come sit and put on the hat to be Sorted,” Professor McGonagall informed the First Years. “Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah squeaked as she stumbled forward. She picked the hat up and quickly sat down on the stool. Trembling hands tucked the hat onto her head but the hat simply fell right over her eyes. There was a moment's pause before the hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!”

The table on the right exploded with noise as the rest of the hall clapped for her. Hannah returned the hat to the stool before hurrying to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the friar ghost wave merrily at her.

“Bones, Susan!” Susan was far calmer than Hannah had been as she approached the stool. She had barely placed the hat on her head to sit before the hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!”

Harry couldn’t see her face as she went and sat down next to Hannah.

Terry Boot was sorted into Ravenclaw as he watched the two friends put their heads together to chat. The table second from the left clapped this time and several Ravenclaws stood up to shake Terry’s hand as he joined them. “Brocklehurst, Mandy” followed him as “Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor. The table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Fred and George right in the middle of that chaos.

One by one the First Years stepped forward to put the hat on and be told where to go. Sometimes the hat would announce a House immediately and other times the First Year would sit on the stool for what had to feel like eternity but was probably not even a full minute.

“Granger, Hermione!” almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. The hat sorted her into Gryffindor after only a breath.

“Longbottom, Neville!” fell over on his way to the stool and sat there for a very long time. Neville sat there so long that Harry grew worried for the other First Year as his own fears slipped beyond his ability to keep them at bay. Even when the hat finally shouted, “Gryffindor,” and Neville ran off still wearing the hat, those fears didn’t return to where Harry had tucked them.

What if he wasn’t placed in a House? Or what if his guardians had been lying without knowing it? Would they treat him differently without meaning to simply because he didn’t get placed in their House?

“Malfoy, Draco!”

A kid with platinum blonde hair stepped out of line somewhere to Harry’s left dragging Harry out of his thoughts. It was the very same kid with platinum blonde First Year Harry had invited to color on the train. There was also a mask of pompousness on the other kid’s face and suddenly Harry remembered where he had met the other kid. The conversation the two of them had shared back at Madam Malkin’s came rushing back and Harry was relieved when Draco’s wish was immediately answered. The hat had barely touched platinum blonde hair when it shouted, “Slytherin!”

He knew there had been some unease when Draco had talked about the Houses. Hopefully getting Slytherin helped with what Draco hadn’t said about it.

“Potter, Harry!” made Harry jump. Sally-Anne Perks was barely putting the hat back on the stool and he had thought that there would have been at least one more name. Whispers broke out all throughout the hall as he stepped forward, sending ice straight into his stomach.

“Did she say Potter?”

“The Harry Potter?”

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was a hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. In the next second, blessed darkness swallowed his vision as the sounds of the hall became heavily muffled. Relief shot through him, as did an odd sort of clarity.

“Hmm,” a small voice said in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh yes, and a nice thirst to prove yourself.” Would the hat take his preference into account? “Now that's interesting. So where shall I put you?” Would it even listen? It supposedly saw everything so did it already know his desire?

Harry squeezed his eyes tight and focused on a single thought, I want-

“Not Slytherin, eh?” He jumped. It sounded as if the small voice was grinning, as if it was thoroughly enjoying itself, and Harry wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It’s all here inside your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.” Doubt overwhelmed the clarity he had found only moments before. He had been so certain in his choice but the hat was right and Severus would be so happy.

His own words came back to him as if plucked from the hazy memory with expert hands. “Not everyone follows their family’s footsteps,” he had cautiously said. Draco had been startled by the statement - scared by it, even - but Harry had let the other kid take his words however Draco needed them. Now, though, they calmed Harry’s thrumming heart. “But that’s normal. Each of us are our own person. We don’t have to follow after others if we don’t want to.” And he didn’t want to. He wanted to be his own person outside of the one everyone was expecting him to be.

He wanted to just be Harry like he was with his family.

“No?” There was no seriousness in the hat’s words. “Well, if you’re sure...” In fact, it seemed almost as if the hat was- but it was a hat. It couldn’t be. Could it? “...better be-”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”
The shout was probably just as loud as every time before but tucked within the hat caused a weird muffling that barely dampened the sound; he flinched. His Sorting was finally over and done with. He quickly pulled the hat off as he slipped from the stool and placed the hat on it. His legs felt strange, wobbly and weak in a way he didn’t like, but it barely registered under the enormous relief he felt as he hurried over to Hannah and Susan. It barely registered just like the odd way the hall was full of noise barely registered.

The hat had listened.

For a heart stopping moment, he had thought it wouldn’t but the hat - sounding very amused with either itself or the situation - had placed him in Hufflepuff like he’d wanted but hadn’t been able to voice.

The whole thing was exhausting and left a weird buzzing beneath his skin. Even his hands were shaking. No, wait; they weren’t shaking but it certainly felt like they should be. Before he could do anything with the sensation, though, he wanted to sit down and get away from eyes he was sure were on him.

He moved to sit on Susan’s other side only to find her in the seat he was about to take. He stared at her utterly confused until Hannah tugged gently at his wrist, effectively drawing him into the seat between them and out of his sudden confusion.

“Thanks,” he muttered, sinking heavily into his seat.

The hall filled with noise as another First Year was Sorted and he flinched from it. He followed the motions of the others at the table but gave up trying to track any of it. He almost started counting seconds between applause, willing it to end soon so that the noise would stop.

“Weasley, Ronald!”

Harry’s head whipped around, gaze seeking out the line of First Years. All that remained of the line was a lone Blaise as Ron stepped up to the stool. Ron looked downright queasy and Harry clenched his hands together under the table, hoping Ron got what he wanted like Harry had. A second later, the hat shouted, “Gryffindor!” and the look of relief on Ron’s face was reassuring. Harry clapped loudly with the rest of the hall as “Zabini, Blaise!” chased after the echoing applause. Harry caught a glimpse of Ron being greeted by what looked to be his brothers at the other side of the hall as Blaise was sorted into Slytherin. Harry joined the clapping for Blaise as loudly as he had for Ron.

Blaise walked the far side of the other house table Harry was facing. Their eyes met and Blaise gave Harry an easy wave before stopping at the empty seat between Draco and someone Harry didn’t know. The two First Years shook hands before Blaise sat down. Briefly Draco met Harry’s gaze before focusing on the staff table. Harry followed Draco's gaze to find Professor McGonagall walking off with the Sorting Hat and stool in hand. As she came even with the end of the Slytherin table, the Headmaster stood beaming at the students, arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

“Welcome!” the Headmaster said, his voice carrying through the hall with apparent ease. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

A smile tugged at Harry’s lips as the entire hall clapped and cheered. The Headmaster was weird. He joined in the clapping briefly before turning back to the table now laden with food filled dishes. There were many things he recognized immediately - roast chicken, pork chops, sausages, bacon and steak, mashed potatoes, assorted salads, fries, peas, corn, steamed veggies, gravy, ketchup - and quite a number of things he didn’t. Hunger gnawed at his stomach but he didn’t really want food. Assorted dishes were passed about among the other students as Harry sought out things he knew he would eat even if he wasn’t wanting food.

Susan handed Harry a half empty bread basket without a word and he took it. The bread was just-out-of-the-oven fresh, something Harry rarely turned away. Bread was always safe. He took two rolls - and a piece of what smelled like banana bread on a whim - before he passed the basket on to Hannah, gaining a soft, “Thanks,” in return. The bowl of mashed potatoes was heavier than Harry expected and he nearly dropped it into the plate of pork chops. Hannah was quick to lean over and assist, though her reach wasn’t any better. In the end, it was Susan who managed to get the mashed potatoes on their side of the table. Harry filled the rest of his plate with an assortment of steamed veggies - and a pork chop - before he started eating.

The innumerable conversations happening around him and throughout the hall melded into a din that was just loud enough to become background noise. It cushioned Harry, in a sense, and Harry let himself drift between conversations wrapped in that din.

The three First Years sitting directly across from him and his friends were talking Quidditch while Susan talked with the First Year sitting on her other side about something dealing with the Ministry. The Quidditch talk was easy to come in and out of. Whatever Susan and her neighbor were discussing was not but the snippets he did catch tugged at his curiosity. Hannah was talking with the older Year sitting beside her but both were too soft spoken for Harry to make out more than a word here or there. It almost sounded like they were talking about classes. Maybe. At least he wasn’t forced to participate in any of the conversations.

It was nice not having to. With how tired he was and how much noise was going on around him, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to even keep a string of thoughts together if someone had asked him to.

When it seemed everyone had eaten their fill, the food that remained vanished from the plates leaving them as sparkling clean as before. A moment later desserts filled the serving dishes. There were countless flavors of ice cream, pies, Jell-O, puddings, and so many other things that Harry recognized but couldn’t remember the names of. He found the chocolate ice cream and mint chocolate chip, though he had a much smaller scoop of the latter as he mostly wanted chocolate, and got a small plate of Jell-O simply because he could.

The Jell-O was the first to go, followed by the mint chocolate chip, but as he slowly worked his way through the chocolate ice cream savoring every bite, his gaze wandered towards the staff table. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet while Professor McGonagall was talking with the Headmaster. He didn’t recognize a good number of the other professors immediately which didn’t surprise him and he let his thoughts wander trying to guess which unknown professor taught which subject based on appearance alone. That was until his musings drew his attention to the professor Severus was talking with.

It happened very suddenly. As soon as Harry’s gaze landed on the pair, Severus looked over meeting his gaze and a sharp, hot pain shot through his forehead. He hissed as his hand automatically pressed against his scar as if adding pressure would combat the pain.

“You ok, Harry?” Hannah asked.

Harry nodded as he rubbed at his scar. The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Severus had noticed, Harry realized, but the Potions Master had only tightened his lips before focusing back on the other professor. Confused with an underlying unease skittering across his spine, he looked to the older Year talking with Hannah. The older Year had a confused frown on their face. He asked, “Do you know who the professor is speaking with Professor Snape? The one with the turban?”

The older Year glanced at the staff table briefly. “That would be Professor Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.” The older Year’s frown was back. “You know Professor Snape?”

Harry shrugged. “He took me to get my school supplies.”

Both of the older Year’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Professor Snape escorted you through Diagon Alley. Of his own volition?” Again, Harry shrugged. The older Year sighed heavily. “You First Years are going to be an interesting bunch, that’s for sure. Why did you want to know about Professor Quirrell?”

“Professor Snape didn’t seem like the type of professor to make small talk,” Harry lied easily. It wasn’t all that inaccurate; Severus hadn’t looked exactly pleased to be talking with Professor Quirrell.

The older Year snorted a laugh. “Well, yeah. Professor Snape doesn’t like anyone. He’s professional with the other teachers but man he can be an arse in class.” Harry kept his face neutral despite not liking the older Year’s description. Of course Severus’s opinion about children would be low - working with potions was a very dangerous task and children don’t often remember that, let alone know it - but for Severus to be nasty because of it didn’t sound like Severus at all. The older Year, completely oblivious to Harry’s thoughts, kept talking. “The entire school knows that Professor Snape has been trying to get the Dark Arts position since he started here. It wouldn’t surprise any of us if he’s already threatened Professor Quirrell after failing to obtain the Defense Against the Dark Arts position again.”

That was news to Harry. Severus had always seemed rather content teaching potions. Granted, that didn’t stop him from ranting about how aggravating it was to teach a bunch of dunderhead children how to brew potions but he had never once mentioned the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. At least, not around Harry and Harry had asked Severus a multitude of questions about Hogwarts over the years. He vaguely remembered overhearing a comment of a potential position change a couple of years back but he couldn’t remember if Severus had mentioned what that position change would have been.

The desserts disappeared from the tables and it acted as a signal that the conversation was done for the time being. The hall fell silent as the Headmaster stood once more.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. “I have a few more words to say now that we are all fed and watered; a few start-of-term notices to give you, if you will. First Years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils; and a few of our older Years would do well to remember that as well.” The Headmaster’s twinkling eyes flickered over towards the Gryffindor table. “I have also been asked by the caretaker, Mr. Filch, to remind students that magic is not to be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch try-outs will be held during the second week of term. If anyone is interested in playing for their House team, please contact Madam Hooch.” The Headmaster gestured down the table and one of the staff members raised a hand. “And, finally, this year the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Chattering kicked up almost immediately, led by a scattering few students laughing. Harry’s stomach clenched at the warning. He sought out Severus but the Potions Master was giving the Headmaster a rather flat, very annoyed look.

“He can’t be serious,” Susan said, the words strained and sounding higher pitched than normal.

“Must be,” someone said. Harry glanced back to see the older Year’s neighbor had leaned forward, frowning at Dumbledore. The new person continued with, “What’s odd, though, is that he usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere. The forest is full of dangerous creatures and untrained magic can cause havoc in the hallways, not to mention causing damages and messes that students don’t stay around to clean up. But to not give even the Prefects a heads up about it at least?” The new person turned, calling down the table, “Hey, Sebastian! He tell you anything about that?”

The Headmaster seemed unperturbed by the chatter and waved them all towards the hall doors. “And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Students began standing before the last of the Headmaster’s words had filled the hall, the noise in the hall skyrocketing in the process. Harry scrambled to his feet not wanting to be left behind but when he saw that Hannah and Susan were in no rush, it left him torn between following after the masses and waiting for them. Thankfully, he didn’t have to choose.

A new older Year approached Harry and his friends. This one was clearly a few years older and had a silver shield-shaped badge with a large ‘P’ engraved on the face pinned under their Hufflepuff crest. “I’m going to take you down to our common room and dorms so don’t feel rushed. We’ll wait until the majority of the crowd’s shoved through before we try making our way out after them.”

It wasn’t a long wait. The student body filed out of the hall slowly but steadily and Harry watched the new older Year and another with the same badge round up the other Hufflepuff First Years. Before introductions could be made, the first badged older Year spoke up. “Alright, First Years. I’m Tiffany and that is Tucker-” the second badged older Year standing behind the cluster of First Year Hufflepuffs gave a cheery wave- “and the both of us are two of six Hufflepuff Prefects. If you ever need anything, be it help finding a class, with homework, or dealing with other kids, come find any one of us and we’ll help you out. Most of Hufflepuff House is like that but some people can just be right arses when they want to be.” Tiffany turned enough to be able to see the door. “That aside: Tucker and I will take you lot down to the common room and show you your dorms. Don’t stress getting lost. Tucker’s good at making sure no one gets left behind.”

With that, Tiffany turned and started for the double doors. The small cluster of Hufflepuff First Years jumped forward to match her pace, the boundaries of the small cluster shifting as they went. Susan placed herself ahead of Harry as Hannah took his hand and kept at his side. She would occasionally bump against his arm and he took comfort in the inconsistent contact. What lull eating had put him in was gone as they stepped out of what had become a familiar space.

Tiffany led them down a level and took a right at the second corridor. The corridor ended a few minutes later, though it wasn’t a deadend. The corridor ended at another corridor that went off to their left and right. Along the opposite wall were regularly placed recesses, most of the ones Harry could see containing wooden frameworks fitted to and filled with barrels. If this was how they got to the Hufflepuff rooms, it was far easier to remember than the twisting and turning Sirius had recounted to get to Gryffindor Tower. Tiffany turned to face them as the small group came to a stop.

“Alright First Years. As a point of reference, that corridor we just passed,” Tiffany pointed over everyone’s heads towards the corridor behind them on her right, “if you take that turn, you’ll find the kitchens. If you go that way,” she pointed down the corridor stretching away from her left, “you’ll find the potions classroom and the rest of the dungeons as well as another way back to the Entrance Hall. Going the other way,” was accompanied by a halfhearted gesture to the right, “will get you to the greenhouses, Professor Sprout’s office, the remainder of this level, and at least one exit out onto the grounds. Professor Sprout is our Head of House so if you need anything the Prefects can’t handle or you don’t feel safe sharing it with any of us, she’s who you go to. She’s great. Now, for getting into our common room, pay attention. You get this wrong and you get doused in vinegar and are barred until someone gets it right.”

Harry made a face at the very thought of getting doused in vinegar. Why would a House go to such lengths to keep others out? Not to mention any unfortunate soul that was of their House that accidentally got it wrong. He hoped she was joking.

Tiffany faced the rack of barrels and pointed at the left hand most column as if deliberately counting up three and over one. She knocked thck thck thck-thck-thck against the barrel face. There was a click and Tiffany took a good step back as the entire rack seemed to shudder. Then, without another sound, the rack parted at the middle and swung open, revealing an arched, short passageway. Tiffany didn’t even spare them a glance before promptly walking through the passageway - she could comfortably lay down in it if she chose to and not touch either end for a few inches - and only stopped once she was a good few paces into the room at the other end. She gestured for them to follow. “Come on. We don’t have all night.”

One of the other First Years hurried forward, quickly followed by another and Susan. Hannah went after Susan which meant Harry went with Hannah.

Had the sun been up, Harry was certain the common room would have been perfectly lit potentially all day thanks to circular windows high in the walls, no other light sources required. The room itself was round and low-ceilinged with a plethora of plant life hanging from the ceiling and on assorted shelves mounted at varying levels around the room, though most were tucked onto the window sills. There were even some large potted ones tucked into the awkward nooks that counted as corners in the spaces between furniture and curved walls. All the furniture was well varnished wood and anything upholstered was yellow, black, or a patchwork of both. The chairs and couches were overstuffed and a good number of them were already claimed by students, some reading, some chatting, and at least one napping by the fire. A thick rug sat before the large fireplace where one of the larger couches was situated. Over the mantle hung a portrait of a woman in golds and browns smiling brightly, her curly hair a bouncy halo of brown around her head. The walls - except for the brick of the fireplace - were painted a soft yellow and trimmed with unpainted wood along the floor, ceiling, and around door frames. Harry caught sight of a set of stairs that led up to an area tucked into the wall around one of the windows. There was a head resting on the curved window well wall and Harry wondered if there was a window seat up there.

“Welcome to the Hufflepuff common room,” Tiffany told them, her voice cadenced lower to only reach the First Years. “You’ll get the full spiel about rules and expectations of shared spaces in the morning. For tonight, we’ll just show you where your rooms are and you guys can have the rest of the evening to yourself. We do a general lights out at 10pm but the fireplace is kept burning and the hallways always have enough light to see by. Girls, with me. Boys, follow Tucker.”

“Alright, my amigos,” Tucker said jovially. “Follow me this way.”

Hannah gave Harry’s hand a quick squeeze before they went separate ways; Harry waved after them before following Tucker.

Tucker led the way through the round door to the group’s right, nearly halfway between the fireplace and the entrance to the common room. The hallway curved lazily left as if it would loop back around. “If you keep going that way, you’ll end up back in the common room.” Tucker came to the first door on their right. “Each door is a different Year’s dorm. Boys will be the first seven doors you pass, girls will be the other seven. Don’t try opening a girl’s dorm door or entering if it is open. You’ll be sent sliding away.”

“That from experience?” one of the First Years asked.

Tucker only grinned as he opened the door. The room beyond was rather bare compared to the common room. At the center of the circular room was a stove oven surrounded by a low fence to keep students from accidentally bumping up against the hot metal. There were some plush cushions around it on the mismatched rugs but, beyond that, the initial space was stone floor and low-ceilinged like the common room. Around the outer edge, though, were five nooks large enough to fit a full sized four-poster bed, a narrow wardrobe, a small personal desk, and a short set of shelves. Each nook had a window on the far wall showing the castle grounds, the curtain that could be used to obscure it tucked neatly behind a hook on the left hand side next to the bed. On either side of the broad arch entrance to each alcove was a similar hook, only larger, containing one of the two curtains used to create the alcove’s door. At the foot of each bed was a different trunk. Harry spotted his at the foot of the bed second on the left.

“Get settled in and respect each other’s alcoves,” Tucker said, still smiling. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the common room for a few more hours.” His smile broke out into a cheeky grin. “Got some last minute homework to finish before tomorrow.”

With that, the older Year left them to their own devices.

“I think we ought to do introductions,” said the First Year whose alcove was second from the right when nothing happened for a few seconds. “Do them right, I mean,” he added quickly upon receiving everyone’s attention. “I’ll start, even. I’m Ernie Macmillan. Happy to be here.”

The one with the alcove just right of the door spoke next. “Justin Finch-Fletchley.”

“Zacharias Smith,” came from the alcove just left of the door before the owner stuck their head back into the common space with a massive grin on their face. “But don’t any of you dare call me Zacharias. I only get called that when I’m in trouble. Call me Zack.”

Harry nodded as he offered simply, “Harry.”

There was a brief pause before the one with the alcove directly across from the door rolled their eyes. It took for them to start talking for Harry to realize that the rest of the dorm had been expecting more from Harry. He wasn’t about to fix it; he was tired and they already knew who he was - everyone knew who he was - and he really only wanted to be just Harry, not Harry Potter or the Boy Who Lived or anything else that came with his full name. Except for being Severus, Sirius, and Remus’s charge. That was the only good thing about being his full name. “We don’t got to be so formal about this. We already know his last name.” The speaker was annoyed and, to Harry’s surprise, he was pretty sure part of that was on his behalf. Someone started to say something but the speaker snapped, “And it’s Roger Malone, before you get butt hurt about it.” Silence followed. “We done?” Harry absently nodded, not that he was the one leading. Roger gave a single nod, making it final. “Good. I’m going to bed. Keep it down if you’re going to stay up.” And, with that, Roger yanked the curtains of his alcove free and was cut off from the common space.

“Well that was rude,” drifted across the room, faint but unmistakable.

“Ernie,” Justin hissed.

“What? Don’t say you hadn’t been thinking the same thing.”

“Yes but you didn’t have to say it. He could still hear you, you know.”

The two started arguing but they dropped their voices lower so that it was a heated murmuring at the edge of Harry’s hearing.

“That certainly doesn’t bode well for all of us getting along,” Zack commented and Harry, having drifted to his window, looked over to find the other leaning against the entrance of Harry’s alcove watching the two still muttering heatedly. When Harry didn’t respond, Zack looked at him. “Sorry. I don’t mean anything by it. I was just hoping-”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Tucker stepped up behind Zack, placing a hand on Zack’s shoulder as he leaned sideways into the opening of Harry’s alcove. “Harry, Professor Sprout wants to see you real quick.”

Harry’s chest tightened as he hurriedly put the curtain he had been absently holding on to back into place. “What for?” Zack asked in his stead.

Tucker shrugged. “Not a clue. She seemed calm, though, so probably nothing serious.”

Tucker didn’t elaborate even when Zach pushed for more information. Tucker shooed Harry on, winking at him when Harry glanced back. Ernie and Justin were equally caught up trying to pester Tucker instead of following after Harry and Harry ducked out before he could be followed. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful or even more anxious that Tucker was keeping Harry’s fellow First Years from following after.

Professor Sprout was speaking with a few older Years when Harry pushed open the round door. She didn’t say anything as he approached but she did smile at him and gestured him closer. She wrapped up the conversation once he was within arms reach and directed him out of the common room with a hand hovering at his back. It sent invisible spiders skittering across his back from the phantom contact and he lengthened his strides enough to make it to the flat backing of the barrel rack first, pushing it open and looking towards her as if he had merely wanted to open the entrance for her.

Professor Sprout gave him a fond smile and a genuine, “Thank you, Mr. Potter.”

“Ah. Mr. Potter.” Harry’s head whipped around at the sound of the all too familiar voice. “Good. Thank you, Pomona. As discussed, this should only take a few minutes.”

He hadn’t realized Severus had been standing there and for a heart stopping moment, he almost reached out like he would have at home. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets to negate any accidental reaching, looking to Professor Sprout for guidance. He knew he couldn’t reach out, not now. There had been very clear instructions on when they could act familial and not and this was a time to not act familial until Severus proved otherwise.

Professor Sprout nodded, looking pleased. “I have no doubt. Now,” she turned to Harry, smiling gently, “you’re not in any trouble. Professor Snape has simply asked to speak with you. He may seem scary but he’s a good man.” Harry caught the eye roll Professor Sprout missed and had to deliberately keep his expression neutral. That was the same eye roll Severus gave when Sirius was doing or saying something foolish yet amusing. “When you are done speaking with him, hurry back to the common room; no dilly-dallying, alright?”

Harry nodded.

Professor Sprout sent Severus a look Harry didn’t understand before taking the hallway to her office. Severus watched her leave for a moment before turning towards the dungeons. “Come along, Mr. Potter. Best be quick so that I am able to keep my word on keeping this short.”

Harry fell into step beside the man in familiar silence that stayed with them even as they entered the dungeons proper. This way and that they weaved until Harry wasn’t sure he knew how to get back to the Hufflepuff common room. As if reading his mind, Severus finally broke the silence. “I will walk you back; I am not expecting you to remember this route after only traveling it once. Unfortunately it lacks the simplicity your trip between the common room and the Great Hall is composed of.”

A few minutes later, Severus stopped walking. “Here we are.”

The portrait hung before them was regal and appeared to be very old. The figure was still very distinct against the background despite the painting’s apparent age. The figure was inside a gazebo standing with their back to the railing. Their hands were taking the body’s weight against the top of the railing on either side of the figure’s hips. Behind them beyond the gazebo railing was a beautiful, massive lake bordered by forest that bled into mountains.

The figure themself was dressed simply yet still something reminiscent of wixen fashion even if it wasn’t. The robe they wore was sleeveless, high collared, and bound at the waist with a wide band of fabric. The fabric was a rich green, almost looking like velvet with gold embroidery along the hems and intricate detailing across the collar, the band of fabric, and at the bottom corners of the lower panels. The long sleeved shirt underneath was black with billowy sleeves that cinched around the wrists in three inch cuffs; the equally billowy pants and the mid calf high laced boots the pants were tucked into were also black.

Beyond their dress, the figure had long, straight black hair that disappeared down their back while an equally straight beard ending at their sternum was carefully trimmed into a point with very straight sides. Dark eyes watched Harry and Severus with curiosity, dark eyes that reminded Harry of Severus.

Severus’s voice was cadenced low as he said for both the portrait and Harry’s sake, “The current password is Crystallize.”

The portrait swung open to reveal a door that Severus approached and pushed open. Harry followed Severus into a room he had never stepped foot into but recognized immediately. The room was nearly the same size as the living room back home. There was a large fireplace on the right hand wall with a plush couch and equally plush chairs framing the rug before it. Other than a small table, some shelves, and a cabinet, the only other significant thing about the room was the four doors leading from it. One was on the left hand wall, closer to the front door than centered, another was in the far corner on the right hand wall on the other side of the fireplace, and the remaining two were evenly spaced on the opposite wall.

Severus closed the door as the portrait swung back into place. “Harry.” Harry focused on Severus but Severus’s gaze did not meet his as the man started to shrug off his outer school robes. “I am aware that we have already discussed the boundaries for which you and I will conduct ourselves around but I wanted to make sure that one thing was made very clear.” Severus, now down to an undershirt and trousers, knelt before Harry. “As much as we expect you to go about your years at Hogwarts as my student, these rooms are just as much for you as they are for myself. While I expect you to spend all of your time anywhere but here, you will always have access to these rooms for a safe and quiet space should you ever require one. Your password will always work no matter how many times I change mine.”

Severus didn’t pull away when Harry reached out and took hold of Severus’s hand. Harry knew he was going to be repeating himself but he needed to make sure. He had to make sure. “But the other kids aren’t going to have that and I thought we weren’t going to give me special treatment. I don’t want special treatment.”

Severus offered him a gentle, patient smile, a thumb rubbing over Harry’s knuckle as if it could sooth everything within Harry. “My office is always a safe space for my Slytherins. My rooms are reserved only for special cases and you, whether we want it or not, are one of those special cases.” A glint flickered in Severus’s eyes that reminded Harry of Sirius’s mischievous side. “And if that is not enough to cast away your concern, do know I take great pride in being able to provide this for you.”

“Because of the Headmaster?” Harry asked, unable to recall the rest of that particular argument.

The laugh came out as a snort and Harry found himself smiling in response to Severus’s mirth. “At minimum, yes. Many - the Headmaster included - were more than certain you would be sorted into Gryffindor because of your parents. The Headmaster had the additional information of who has been caring for you so he was very confident in his belief. He brushed away any inclination that my involvement would sway you into Slytherin; the other two Houses more so out of the question.” Severus’s expression lost the mirth, looking almost sad. Harry gave Severus’s hand an encouraging squeeze and Severus returned it faintly. “It is an unfortunate bias the Headmaster still holds but had you been Sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin or even Ravenclaw, I would still be reiterating this to you. You are my charge, my family, and no matter the House, you are my responsibility and I want to make sure you have a safe space with me no matter where we are.”

Harry pressed his face into Severus’s chest, finally relaxing after everything. Severus’s arms wrapped around him and tugged him flush with the man’s torso. Harry’s arms snaked around to hold onto the back of Severus’s shirt as he gave the man all his weight. Unbidding tears burned the back of his throat as his eyes watered. He swallowed thickly, not wanting to cry right now, but he had been suppressing for too long and Severus was still holding him tight and they were alone and safe and-

The sob choked out of him only to be quickly followed by the entire torrent. Severus didn’t give him the chance to suppress it, immediately sitting on the floor proper and pulling Harry into his lap, curling around him as he had so many times before. Harry curled up against Severus’s chest crying because he was tired, because the day had been far more than he could handle on his own.

He cried because he was so scared that he wasn’t going to be able to do this alone. He couldn’t do this alone. Not in a strange, new place with people he didn’t know and with expectations he was never going to meet. He wasn’t Sirius or Remus or Severus. He couldn’t handle these things on his own. He didn’t want to handle these things on his own.

There was a detached part of him aware of Severus picking him up but it couldn’t do anything to influence what was going on. That detached part took in the sensation of Severus sitting on something that wasn't the floor and the sound of shifting fabric that lasted only for a moment. After that, nothing.

When nothing more happened, that detached part of him simply observed himself, waiting. It took in how crying made his breathing stuttered, how his face scrunched and pulled as his anger shaped the way his lips pulled back from his teeth, how his hands and legs were going numb curled as they were. It wasn’t until his crying started to subside that the detached part of him registered that Severus was gently rocking him side to side, a hand carding slowly, repetitively, through his hair.

The crying sputtered out in only a few breaths leaving Harry feeling even more tired but less buzzy. Severus stopped the rocking immediately but the hair stroking continued up until Harry pulled back, rubbing at his wet face in discomfort.

“Better?” Severus asked, voice low and calm like it always was.

Harry nodded, accepting the tissue Severus offered him. He blew his nose but that was all the effort he was giving into moving.

“Are you hungry?” Harry frowned, not really sure. He had eaten earlier but- “You ate very little for dinner-” it didn't surprise him Severus had noticed. “and I would feel better knowing you tried to get even a small amount more in you before bed. Would you be willing to try for me?” All he wanted to do was sleep but Severus’s request didn’t seem unreasonable. The only problem was Harry didn’t feel hungry. “Would it be easier if I picked something?”

That made nodding not seem like such an effort and he gave Severus the affirmation. Severus always picked good safe foods and it meant Harry didn’t have to try and figure out what to eat when he wasn’t hungry.

“I am going to sit you on the couch so that you can eat while I finish getting out of my work clothes. When you’ve eaten what you can, you are welcome to look around the rest of the space.”

Harry pressed his forehead into Severus’s chest not wanting to be set down yet but he still nodded and didn’t fight when Severus placed him in the corner of the couch. A beautiful tray was placed over his lap with a bowl of very familiar oatmeal, a plate of grapes, and a glass of ice water with the tiny ice. Immediately he grabbed for a few grapes and shoved them in his mouth as he watched Severus’s feet leave the sitting area.

The grapes were decimated before he moved onto the oatmeal. It was warm and sweet and familiar and it was easy to eat without thinking about it. The weird buzzing energy from the afternoon hadn’t completely faded with crying. Harry found swaying seemed to keep the weird buzzing feeling from buzzing.

He definitely felt like he could sleep through the entire week.

Harry was brought out of his staring and ice crunching by the sound of Severus returning. He pulled his gaze from wherever it had landed towards Severus as the man appeared in familiar loungewear. Severus’s scrutinizing gaze swept over the tray before softening as it took in Harry’s face. “Feeling better now?”

He wasn't sure if being as tired as he was was better but the buzzing was less so that probably counted. Harry nodded.

“Good.” There was a pause, brief but there, before Severus stated, “A proper tour can wait. You need sleep and I promised your Head of House this would be a brief visit.”

Harry pushed the tray to the side and got to his feet. Severus offered Harry his school robe and Harry blinked wide eyed at it before looking down. Sure enough the only thing on was his sweater over his clothes. He took it and quickly tugged it on, not remembering Severus taking it off of him. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. He had a vague impression of Severus tugging it off of him after sitting on the couch.

Severus’s hand settled on the top of his head and he looked up. “Ready?” Harry nodded. “Then let us be on our way. We will find time during the weekend for you to see these rooms more properly if you want.”

A yawn stretched his jaw even as he nodded again.

The walk back to the dorm felt shorter than the walk from it. Harry wasn’t complaining. Unconsciously, Harry gave Severus a brief hug - that Severus returned without any of the dishes Harry had expected when he realized what he’d done - before crossing to the right barrel and repeating the knock Tiffany had done earlier. He took two large steps back at the click, the brief panic of possibly getting it wrong making him overly cautious.

“Goodnight, Mr. Potter,” Severus said before briskly leaving.

Harry waved after him even if Severus wouldn’t see it and stepped back into the Hufflepuff common room. It was surprisingly bustling but no one glanced his way as he went right to the dorms. The only one in the First Year boys dorm seemed to be Roger whose alcove’s curtains were still closed. The other alcoves were completely empty. Harry was immensely grateful he didn’t have to talk to anyone and made quick work of letting his alcove’s curtains down. They made the alcove feel a bit too small but Harry was too tired to care. It was safer; less space for someone to hide in. He tugged the curtain over the window before changing into his pajamas. It took far too long for him to figure out how to get the two small light sources - one on the desk and another on the shelving unit that made the headboard of the four poster - to turn off but once it was blessedly dark in his alcove, he flopped face first into the bed not caring for once that it was a new bed with new - at least to him - bedding and blankets. Thankfully everything felt and smelled fresh and new. There was no additional fragrance to the sheets and the textures were familiar. As soon as he was settled under the covers, he was out.

Harry slept through the night, waking only once and it was so brief, Harry didn’t even remember it when he properly woke that morning, let alone the reason why he had woken up. Just before his brief break in sleep, Harry had a very strange dream. In that dream he was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban. It kept talking to him, telling him he had to transfer to Slytherin at once because it was his destiny. Every time Harry told the turban no, it grew heavier and heavier; every time he tried to pull it off, it wouldn’t budge. Someone was laughing at him as he struggled, a high and cold laugh, before there was a burst of green light that startled Harry awake, the same sort of startle that happens when something comes flying at your face and you flinch back from it. All it did, though, was wake Harry enough to roll over and fall right back to sleep.
“There, look. See him?”

“Where?”

“The one wearing the glasses?”

“Did you see his face?”

“Did you see his scar?”

For not the first time, Harry felt endless gratitude towards Sirius, Severus, and Remus for doing all they could to keep him out of the public eye. With no such protection now, Harry found whispers tailing him even in his own common room and it weighed heavily on him.

It was understandable people were going to be eager to see and meet him but at least the Hufflepuffs were trying to be normal about it. It helped that he had some buffer with Hannah, Susan, Cedric, and even surprisingly Roger keeping most of the overly eager at bay but the rest of the student body wouldn’t be as satisfied with just seeing him.

The Great Hall wasn’t nearly as full as the night prior when all of the student body was present for the Start of Term Feast but it certainly wasn’t anywhere near empty. Sure enough, as soon as he approached the open doors, eyes and words were quickly focused on him. He had been rather confident going to the Great Hall alone - Susan and Hannah would be right behind him and it wasn’t like he didn’t know anyone - but now faced with the Great Hall and what it held…

Red caught his attention as he passed over the threshold and, without missing a beat, his trajectory changed from where he had sat the night prior to the number of redheads sitting two tables over.

The chatter in the hall increased, setting his proverbial hackles on end and quickening his footsteps. He didn’t care what the rest of the student body thought; he wanted familiar company until Susan and Hannah arrived. “Morning,” he offered quickly, shoving himself between Ron and the twins.

“Harry!” came from several of those present but it was the twins and Ron whose reaction he cared about most.

“Wocher, Harry,” the farthest twin offered.

“Joining us for breakfast?” the one he sat next to asked.

His gaze flickered to Ron briefly. “If that’s alright. I didn’t really want to sit by myself until the others arrived.”

Something passed between all four redheads sitting at the table but Harry only caught a glimpse of it before Ron was scooting over and placing an empty plate in front of Harry. “Here you go,” Ron said. “Do you want some sausages? They’re really good.”

Harry plucked one off the plate Ron was offering but no matter how much he tried to focus on Ron gushing about Gryffindor Tower, he was making out every word from the table behind him. Questions like “Why is Harry Potter sitting with Gryffindors?”, “Is he even allowed to be there?”, and “He’s just doing that for attention.” were the running theme and he tried to not care, tried to pretend that what he was doing was fine.

The twin at his side turned before draping himself across Harry’s back, forcing Harry into a more hunched position. He could feel one of the twin’s knees pressing against the lowest part of his back as one arm cut right across the middle and the other rested against the back of his shoulders and neck. It took a while of the twin engaging Ron in conversation before Harry relaxed. The touch wasn’t oppressive or uncomfortable; somehow the twin had managed to wrap around Harry in a way that felt like a shield, protecting him from eyes and words under the guise of teasing Harry while talking to the youngest sibling. Even the unnamed redhead acted as if nothing was amiss, filling Harry’s plate while talking about how it was important to have a well rounded meal first thing in the morning like Harry was just another member of the family.

“Better?” Neville asked when the unnamed redhead’s attention was drawn away by the other twin. It has been so quiet, Harry had nearly not heard him.

Harry offered the other a soft smile, answering honestly, “Better.” The Weasley’s had effectively made him feel as if he hadn’t just erred horrendously by joining them at the Gryffindor table.

Some point during the conversation, Percy introduced himself and his status as Gryffindor Prefect while also telling the twin on Harry to get off. It helped Harry remember who was Fred and who was George and he was determined to not forget again. Percy, unable to leave the matter be, leaned forward and said softly, “While I won’t do anything since it is the first day, you are expected to sit at your house table for meals.”

Harry lowered his still full fork back to his plate, meeting Percy’s apologetic gaze. “Is it really a rule?” he asked, sure his disappointment was evident.

Percy blinked at him, sitting back as if surprised by Harry’s question. “Well, not exactly,” Percy started, the words drawn out as if the other was rapidly running through the entire handbook.

“I want to sit with my friends. If the tables aren’t marked, shouldn’t it be ok?”

“Yes, but each House-”

“Aw, come off it, Perce,” George said, a grin on his face.

“Leave Harry be,” Fred said in George’s wake, as if he’d said George’s words himself.

“It’s not like Harry’s hurting anyone.”

“Or breaking any school rules.”

Ron gave a stern nod, adding his own protest. “Yeah. Let Harry sit with us if he wants to. It’s just breakfast.”

“If the professors don’t like it, they’ll say something,” Neville piped in, though his face quickly filled with an embarrassed blush when several sets of eyes landed on him. “Can always leave it until they say something.”

“But he should be sitting with his House,” Hermione piped in a few spots down from Neville’s right. “Everyone knows that’s how things just are here at Hogwarts.”

“No one asked for your opinion,” Ron bit back rather harshly.

Harry was quick to nudge Ron, a heavy frown pulling at his expression. “Ron.” But whatever he was going to say was cut off by Fred placing a hand on Harry’s back and announcing, “Whelp, doesn’t look like we’ll have to wait long.”

“Professor McGonagall is headed this way with schedules,” George explained.

Tense silence settled over the small group as they waited with bated breaths. Professor McGonagall acted as if she wasn’t being avidly watched by seven students partway down the table, calmly passing out schedules to those that were present for the time being. Not even arriving and meeting their gaze changed her mannerisms as she dutifully spoke names and passed out corresponding sheets of paper.

“Mr. Potter,” she said after passing out the fourth ‘Weasley’. She didn’t offer him a paper but her expression remained neutral. “Professor Sprout will have your schedule. If you finish before she gives it to you, make sure to ask her for it before you leave.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said dutifully, relief relaxing his posture and expression.

“Professor,” Percy was quick to call out before she had managed more than a full step away. “Is it really alright for Harry to be eating here? He’s a Hufflepuff.”

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at Percy, her expression tightening slightly in the action. “There is no rule restricting where a student can sit during mealtimes. While it is expected for most feasts due to tradition and ease for new students at Start of Term, as long as Mr. Potter or any other student doesn’t create a disturbance, they are allowed to sit wherever they please.”

Chatter filled Professor McGonagall’s wake as the Ravenclaw sitting behind Harry - and any other soul that had heard - passed the information on.

“Wicked!” Ron said in a rush, his voice low so as not to draw McGonaall’s attention back to the group. “You should join us for every meal.”

“Actually, I was thinking of sitting with Draco for lunch.”

That drew a bit of confusion and, to his surprise, some concern from the older Weasleys. “Draco?” the twins parroted.

“I’m assuming you’re speaking of Draco Malfoy,” Percy said, a frown pulling at his concerned expression. “Harry, it would be wise to stay away from Slytherins, Malfoys especially. They cannot be trusted.”

That seemed completely unfair but Harry simply shrugged, returning to his meal as he said, “I know Slytherins who I trusted completely. I’m willing to take the chance that Draco and other Slytherins can be as well.”

Harry doubted his words were enough to stop that particular conversation but Susan and Hannah arrived before Percy or any of the others could voice their opinions on the matter. The other two Hufflepuffs took Fred and George’s seats at the twins’ beckoning, both twins having just finished. The chatter in the hall fluctuated again but Harry ignored it.

To his surprise, Susan and Hannah followed him to the different table at lunchtime. There had been a brief conversation about it in the hall but the other two Hufflepuffs wanted to see Blaise.

Draco, Blaise, and a number of other First Year Slytherins were sitting together, though there was quite a bit of space amongst them which allowed the three Hufflepuffs to join them easily. Harry plopped down in the empty spot to Blaise’s left directly across from Draco. Draco straightened, his expression briefly giving away his surprise while Blaise didn’t seem taken aback at all, softly greeting Susan and Hannah who sat on Blaise’s other side.

Draco pulled his expression back into something resembling boredom. “Did you get lost, Potter? Or did you happen to just forget this is the Slytherin table?”

“There isn’t anything claiming this as the Slytherin table,” he pointed out, accepting the bread basket from Blaise.

“The entirety of Slytherin House sits here,” Draco pointed out as if it was obvious.

“So? Nothing’s stopping them from sitting elsewhere. Professor McGonagall certainly didn’t kick me from among the Gryffindors and none of the other professors have said anything. Not even Professor Snape is doing anything about it.” A number of people - Draco included - glanced at the Potions Professor but Harry already knew Severus wasn’t paying them any mind; at least, not outwardly. The Professor had a Potions magazine open and was currently reading through one of the articles as he nursed a cup of coffee, plate still half full. “I want to eat with my friends and just because we’re in different Houses shouldn’t make a difference whether or not we’re friends.”

Blaise nodded in agreement in his peripheral. Draco scoffed, his nose crinkling in disgust. “I’m not being friends with a stupid Hufflepuff and his groupies.”

Harry, unfortunately, had expected that. “You’re right, you're not.” Before Draco could put his bewilderment to words, Harry continued, “You’re being friends with me and last I checked, I’m a Harry.”

“And a Hufflepuff.”

Harry shrugged. “And a godson. And a First Year student. The Boy Who Lived. What’s one more label?” Harry met Draco’s gaze, finding the other’s expression to still be that same bewildered look. As much as he had been interested in Draco’s friendship, he was finding that it might not be something that could come about, not like it had with Tanner. At least with Tanner, ne had been willing to change. “Unless you’re choosing to judge me based solely on my labels like everyone else,” he challenged, though his tone didn’t change. “If you are, I will leave. I don’t want to be friends with someone who’s going to judge me on my labels alone anyway.”

It was only when the last words had slipped past his tongue did Harry realize how quiet the table around them was. Harry was certain the entire table and those behind him were watching his exchange with Draco but he didn’t dare glance around to find out.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on for far too long, Draco scoffed. There wasn’t anything behind it, though, so it came off a bit flat. Draco put his silverware down and stood. “I’ve lost my appetite. Do what you want but don’t involve me.”

The First Year that had been to Draco’s right leaned over and offered in a low voice, “You might want to go to a different table. I don’t think any of the older Slytherins will take too kindly to other Houses sitting with us.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Not you too, Theo. Come on. I already told you I wasn’t going to blindly follow their lead. This whole House isolation thing is stupid.”

The First Year’s expression tightened. “Look, I don’t care who you’re friends with, but if the older Years start picking on you because of it, don’t come running to me. I want nothing to do with it.”

“If they come after you even if I do leave you out of it, you let me know,” Blaise said heatedly. “I signed up for their harassment. You didn’t.” The First Year’s tight expression didn’t soften but they did nod. Blaise looked first to Harry, then to Susan and Hannah. “Speaking of: I should do introductions. Guys, this is Theodore Nott. Theo, this is Harry Potter, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott.”

Theodore nodded to Harry and Hannah. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said before looking to Susan, his expression closing off in a familiar way. Harry’s gaze snapped to Susan and watched her entire demeanor change into something equally closed off but far more rigid. “It’s been a while. How have you been holding up?”

Whatever history they shared, it wasn’t good history.

“Well enough,” Susan said tightly. “And yourself?”

Theodore shrugged. “Could be better. Wasn’t sure I would make it into Slytherin.”

Something shifted in Susan’s expression, something softened. “I hope it helps.”

A wry smile pulled at Theodore’s expression. “Me too.”

By dinner, there wasn’t a table that didn’t have two or more Houses sitting at it. Word had traveled through the castle like fire and it lit a sort of excitement that emboldened many to make friends in other Houses. Only the Slytherins remained at their table but plenty from other Houses joined them.

Harry heard rumors that the break in tradition was creating strife within the different Houses, some students going as far as calling each other traitors for sitting with Slytherins, predominantly, or other Houses. Harry didn’t have time to think much on it, though, as classes went into full swing on the first day. The castle was massive which made it difficult to remember where anything was and it was only due to older Years that he never ended up outright late to anything. Why didn’t the school give out maps? Even IPPA offered personal maps to visitors that couldn’t make heads or tales of the directories in even the smallest buildings. Why couldn’t Hogwarts have signs and directories, too?

Still, the classes were at least interesting. Astronomy wasn’t all that different from the science classes he’d had growing up, though it sort of lacked the whole “science” part. Still, he had always liked science and learning about the stars and planets certainly wasn’t a hardship. Herbology was equally enjoyable but unlike Astronomy, he’d had Herbology specific classes before. Nothing quite as in depth as Professor Sprout made the class sound like it would be, though.

The hardest class for him was going to be History of Magic, hands down. History was interesting in its own right but Harry’s strong suit wasn’t lecture style classes. Even tutoring with Remus and Severus hadn’t improved his ability to take notes, let alone make the information stick properly. He could do broad ideas - when he understood the content - but the finite details were always the hardest. It definitely didn’t help that Professor Binns droned on in the same monotone for the entire period in the same manner he had probably taught back when he hadn’t been a ghost. Harry was not looking forward to having to do extra studying just to pass the class.

Charms was…ok. Professor Flitwick had taken roll call at the top of the first class and when he had reached Harry’s name, had given an excited squeak before toppling out of sight off of the pile of books he had been standing on. Beyond that, Charms seemed interesting enough.

He just hoped that was the last of the overly eager first meetings.

Professor McGonagall was as Harry expected: strict. She started the class off with a warning. “Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said, her stern gaze sweeping over the class. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

And then she turned her desk into a pig and back, effectively hooking every single student’s interest. Unfortunately for the now eager students, the majority of the period was devoted to taking complicated notes before they were even given a chance to try. They were each given a match to try and turn into a needle. By the time Professor McGonagall walked around to collect their matches, only Hannah had managed to get the closest; her match was a slender, smooth, silvery stick with the only hints that it had been a match and not just a strip of discolored metal wire was the darkened end that had been the match head.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had been a wild card for Harry. He knew what it was, understood what would be taught, but his apprehension came from knowing far too well what that course was meant to prepare them for. He saw it every day Remus or Severus or even Sirius returned home from an assignment looking battered and exhausted despite the healing they had received. They never talked about it around Harry but he had caught the late night mutterings that always happened after his guardians thought he was well asleep.

So when the first class of Defense began, Harry wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved that the class was going to be just as much of a drag as History of Magic was going to be, though for completely different reasons. The classroom smelled so strongly of garlic that it gave Harry a headache almost as soon as he entered the room. He gave up any pretense of putting up with it and had to pull his shirt up over his nose just to be able to keep from panicking at a lack of fresh air. Defense was definitely going to be the worst to sit through.

Out of everything, he found himself most excited for Potions and he wasn’t sure if that was because it would be Severus teaching it or because he had watched Severus make potions and listened to him talk about the subject regularly. The Potions classroom was in one of the dungeons not far from the Hufflepuff common room making it one of the easiest classrooms to find. It wasn’t quite as creepy as Harry had half expected hearing the older students talking about it. There was one wall with pickled animals and other preserved materials floating in glass jars which would certainly be creepy, but the room was well lit with a light hanging over every workstation and a number of sconces evenly placed around the room. It certainly wasn’t Hufflepuff common room cozy but it was definitely better than “the dreary dungeon” everyone kept describing it as.

Severus started class in the same manner as Professor Flitwick by taking roll call but unlike the Charms Professor, Severus treated Harry’s name as he did everyone else’s and moved on. Once he was done reading through the list of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, Severus addressed the class. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little use of wand waving in the first years of study, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you to ever understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…” His voice was low but it carried through the classroom with ease, holding the entire class’s attention without effort. “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. If you have the temperament required for potions making.

“This class will require your full attention and your patience, your ability to follow directions precisely or risk harming yourself or your fellow classmates. I will not tolerate tomfoolery, carelessness, nor outright disregard for the rules within this classroom at any time. Should I believe you will be putting yourself or others’ lives at risk, I will have you removed from this class.”

A shudder went through the class. The reputation of the Potions Professor had done its job on the First Years and Harry found himself wondering just how much of that reputation was accurate.

“Now,” Severus said, stepping behind his desk. “While I am sure you are all eager to begin brewing potions,” Harry quietly chuckled at the sarcastic joke that very obviously passed over the rest of the class, “you will find our first few lessons to be rather lacking in that regard. We will begin by going through the basics, the differences between slicing, dicing, and mincing, and other important factors that will always be present no matter what you are choosing to brew. That will also include the rules for this classroom. Pull out your books and the knife from your kits while I pass out the ingredient we will be working with. I expect your knife to remain sheathed until I say otherwise; anyone preemptively removing their knife will lose house points and run the risk of serving detention.”

The class was a double period and Severus utilized it scarily well. There wasn’t much time to think or talk as Severus walked them through all the basics that first class and showed the reasons behind why instructions required certain preparations or actions. While strict and certainly intimidating, Harry was relieved to find none of the rumors had any ground to stand on.

Though, he wondered how much of that was due to his relationship with Severus and knowing that Severus had fought to get the original curriculum changed. Severus had been quite vocal about his ire with the original curriculum, calling it petulant and ill-prepared that students were expected to brew in their first class with no preemptive training or process walkthroughs, especially First Years.

When the changes Severus had fought for finally passed, Sirius nearly threw a neighborhood sized party to celebrate. How Severus and Remus had talked Sirius out of that, Harry will never know, but he had been quite happy to be included in their small celebration, eating as much ice cream as they would allow and happily enjoying swimming around the pool they had booked for the four of them and a handful of others. Tanner was obviously included.

Beyond a rather intimidating amount of homework, the first week of classes had successfully set the standard for what to expect in the coming weeks. The only change that happened was flying lessons starting.

“Excited for flying lessons?” Ron asked as he plopped down between Harry and Neville for lunch on that particular Thursday morning.

“N-no. Not really,” Neville mumbled into his plate, barely touching anything.

Harry reached around Ron to drop a few grapes onto Neville’s plate. He gained a weak smile for his efforts. Ron didn’t seem to notice as he started scarfing down lunch like normal. “I can’t wait,” Ron said between mouthfuls. “I’ve been flying since I could walk. It’ll be an easy O.”

“Have you flown much, Neville?” Hermione asked from the other side of the table, her plate nearly empty.

Neville shook his head. “Don’t like heights,” he mumbled.

Sympathy filled Hermione’s face. “I’ve never been on a broom so we can take it slow together.”

“Talking about flying lessons?”

Harry looked up as Hannah sat down across from Harry. Harry caught Susan talking to Blaise and Theodore but it wasn’t clear yet if she would be joining the two Slytherins for lunch. “Yeah,” Harry said, answering Hannah’s question. “Ron’s really excited for it.”

“Easy O,” Ron repeated, this time with his mouth full.

Hannah frowned at Ron but focused back on Harry. “Think they’ll be able to manage all forty of us at once? I was half expecting them to take two Houses at a time, or separate us alphabetically or something.”

Harry shrugged. “We’ll probably find out when we get down to the field.”

The good autumn weather that had settled over the castle the previous day was still thick in the air and Harry and his friends stepped out into a light breeze and mild temperatures. Harry would have much preferred finding a place to just sit and do some homework instead of flying lessons but it would be an easy grade. A portion of First Years - predominantly Ravenclaws and Slytherins - had beaten a large number of the remaining First Years to the designated area and were standing among brooms laid out in neat rows.

“If there are no brooms remaining by the time you arrive, you are to sit over in that chalked off area and pay attention to your classmates,” someone - Madam Hooch Harry guessed - was calling out to the First Years. “We will alternate every ten to fifteen minutes or so and then, after today, you will be given a specific time slot with other similarly skilled students.”

“Well this doesn’t sound terrible,” Hannah said as she sat down in the grass at Harry’s side.

Susan sat down on his other side, letting out a huff. “At least they’re not keeping experienced with newbies.” She looked over her shoulder. “No offense you two.”

“None taken,” Hermione replied, her voice quaking at the edges. Neville didn’t say anything.

Chatter fluttered about the group in the chalked out area. The half of the First Years at the brooms seemed to be a rather capable group for the most part. One Ravenclaw never managed to get off the ground and it wasn’t until the two groups were swapping places that Harry realized it had been due to fear. He caught snippets of Madam Hooch talking with the scared Ravenclaw as he made his way to one of the brooms. When he looked back, the scared Ravenclaw was entering the chalked off area to kind faces and soft words.

“Alright you lot. We’ll start with getting our brooms in our hands. Stick out your right hand over your broom and say ‘Up!’”

“Up!” echoed across the grass in a chorus of voices for the second time that afternoon. Harry’s broom jumped into his hand immediately, not to his surprise. Quite a number of people of their group had brooms in hand on the first command. Draco, Hannah, and Ron were among those few.

“If it doesn’t work with the right, switch sides and try it with your left hand!” Madam Hooch called over the chatter.

In the end, no one had to bend down to snatch up a broom. Even Neville’s finally touched his palm when the Gryffindor had swapped sides and tried two more times even with how his voice shook. From there, they followed Madam Hooch’s instructions on how to mount the brooms and grips. She walked around correcting grips and stances before she deemed them ready enough to kick off.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three. Two.”

Neville shot into the air. Harry had been watching Madam Hooch so he hadn’t even realized what had happened until Neville was already a good distance up. They all watched as Neville made it level with the second story windows before tipping sideways and falling from his broom. Several students screamed. Madam Hooch shouted something and Harry thought Neville slowed at the last second before hitting the grass with a solid thmp.

Madam Hooch’s face was nearly as white as Neville’s as she knelt beside the Gryffindor but her voice was steady and her hands sure. He was too far to hear what she was muttering to Neville before she helped him to his feet. “Brooms are to be placed back on the ground and all of you are expected to be in that chalked off area when I return. I will be sending another Professor out while I take this boy up to the Hospital Wing. If any of you take to the air while I am gone, you will be out of here faster than you could say ‘Quidditch’.”

Brooms started to hit the grass as Madam Hooch and Neville walked away, the group of twenty meandering back to the chalked off area. Quite a number of the First Years were shaken by what had happened but there were a few that weren’t.

Harry had been among the first to drop his broom but he hadn’t started towards the chalked off area yet. One of the Ravenclaws in their half of the class was having a hard time with what had just happened and Hannah was carefully walking the Ravenclaw through calming down, Susan and one of the Ravenclaw’s friends standing close to offer support. He watched them without really seeing anything, vaguely aware of the press of his knuckle and the strain of a finely knotted string bracelet on his wrist as voices drew his attention.

More keenly, Draco’s voice drew his attention.

“Did you see his face, the great lump?”

Laughter followed those words, laughter from more than just Draco.

“Could have done better to land on his fat arse,” some other First Year chortled.

Harry wasn’t the only First Year to round on the laughing group. “Shut up, Entworth,” one of the Ravenclaws spat, directing the comment towards a different Ravenclaw.

“You too, Malfoy,” a Gryffindor was quick to add. “Leave Neville alone.”

“Oooo, sticking up for Longbottom,” a Slytherin teased the Gryffindor. “Never thought you’d like fat little cry-babies, Parvati.”

“Only decent people don’t make jokes at someone else’s pain.”

Far too many eyes were suddenly on Harry and it took for a moment longer before he realized he had been the one to say those words. He tightened his grip on his bracelet, feeling the magnets finally give and separate. His hands returned to his side but his right hand worried the tiny knots until the bracelet had shifted enough in his hand for him to worry the thin stone bead at its center.

“Let’s get back to the chalked off area like Madam Hooch said,” Harry added, starting for the area himself. This wasn’t a good time to be dealing with bullies. Not when they were all still too antsy from what had happened.

Someone shoved into his shoulder from behind - someone large - and Harry was nearly thrown forward had a rough hand not grabbed him around the wrist. A cry of more panic than pain escaped him as he felt the person yank his bracelet from his grip. The burly Slytherin looked far too pleased dangling the stolen item as the Slytherin joined Draco and the others.

“Give that back!” Harry lunged forward to try and get his gift back but hands were on him again, hands that were stopping him. “No! Let go!”

“Harry! Calm down!”

Susan, probably. Or Ron, maybe? He shook his head, struggling against whoever it was. “Let me go! I need to get it back!”

“What? This ratty thing?” Harry’s gaze snapped to Draco. Draco admired the stone bead as if it was some interesting insect in a jar before he sent Harry a nasty smirk. “Looks like a baby made you a gift, Potter. An adoring fan, perhaps? Let’s put it somewhere where it belongs.”

The ground dropped out from under him.

Draco was still holding his broom.

“How bout the bottom of the lake? The rock should sink quite nicely, don’t you think?”

He didn’t remember getting free of the hands holding him but he realized it when he stumbled a few steps forward. When he looked back at Draco, the Slytherin was already gone. Harry turned sharply and shot across the grass to where the brooms had been left. He didn’t stop as he bent low and scooped up a broom as if he had done this a million times before. Still half bent forward, only upright from momentum alone, Harry brought the broom up to his chest, to his side, and urged it skyward as he threw a leg over it mid-sprint.

The broom was slow to respond, nothing like Sirius’s latest model broom. For the brief moment between mounting the broom and getting level with Draco, Harry felt the same peace and comfort that flying always brought. Harry knew Sirius’s encouragement had been in the hopes that he would pick up Quidditch but Harry never took to the sport. He liked flying; he liked maneuvering and going as quick as he could from ground to air in a fluid motion. Quidditch wasn’t that.

The first time he had tried the mounting stunt he had just pulled, he had eaten a mouthful of grass. He and Tanner had laughed for hours as the two of them tried and failed over and over again trying the silly stunt. Now, though, as Harry pulled his broom to a stop barely yards from the nose of Draco’s broom, Harry couldn’t quite remember that joy he and Tanner had shared, far too focused on the bracelet Draco was still holding.

“Give it back, Draco,” Harry demanded, “or I’ll pull you from your broom.”

Draco sneered at him but Harry offhandedly thought it looked wrong somehow. “Oh yeah?”

Harry leaned forward flat against the broomhandle, urging the old, well used broom to go as fast as it could. Draco’s jerk of surprise did little to actually get the Slytherin out of reach and it took Draco actually leaning sideways hard enough to throw himself into a barrel roll for Harry’s fingers to barely brush Draco’s clothes. Harry, already partway into a barrel roll himself, let his weight drag him upside down. He shoved the end of the broom over his head to level out upright facing Draco again, though a good few feet lower since the old broom couldn’t quite handle the maneuver like Sirius’s broom could.

This time Draco truly looked scared as their eyes met but the Slytherin wasn’t going down without one last attempt to come out on top. “Catch it if you can, then!”

Horror flashed through Harry as he watched Draco pull back and throw the bracelet with all his might. It didn’t matter if it was heading to the bottom of the lake, the heart of the forest, or the center of the courtyard; Harry wasn’t going to let it hit the ground. He shoved the nose of his broom down mere seconds after Draco and pulled as much speed as he could out of the broom.

The stone bead flickered, reflective almost like glass, as it tumbled in a wide arch through the air. Harry tracked it out of the corner of his eye as the ground got closer and closer until it was nearly four feet away. His knees brushed the top of the grass as he leveled out, well controlled and his aim true. With a lazy lean to his left, Harry started a large arch across the grass as his gaze snapped to the bracelet still flying through the air.

For a few heart stopping seconds, Harry watched it descend. He reached for it despite knowing he was still too far away, that it wouldn’t matter from this distance, but he stayed like that, one arm reaching out, the rest of him tucked neatly against the broom, until - finally - the stone of the bracelet slapped against his palm. In much the manner he had stopped behind Drago, Harry shoved the bristled end of the broom around, bringing the nose up so that he didn’t risk eating grass. His feet touched ground as if he had carefully stepped off of the castle steps and found himself not far from the rest of the First Years. The broom hit the ground with far less grace.

His legs were trembling in a horrible way, weak and tingly and awful. His hands and arms probably would have been too had he not tucked his clenched hands tightly against his chest hating how close he had come to losing his bracelet. A burning ache had settled high in his chest and all down his throat, scratching at the inside of his nose, too, and it was all he could do to swallow down the rage and fear and grief that was now swarming over him much as his classmates were. Hands were suddenly everywhere as the noise pressed in even heavier. He jerked away from what he could but it only seemed to press him into other hands, into louder noises.

He shoved at them, stumbling as he found an opening and met Draco’s gaze again. He glared at Draco with all his might. “I don’t know what your stupid problem is but it doesn’t give you the right to do what you please with other people’s things! Get better, Malfoy! This sort of bullshit is not ok!”

“Harry Potter!”

The shocked silence that had followed Harry’s words hadn’t even lasted a second before it was shattered by Professor McGonagall’s shout. Harry tensed as the crowd around him immediately receded, leaving Harry at the mercy of a furious Professor McGonagall storming towards them. It wasn’t until she came to a stop just outside of reach did Harry belatedly realize she had been running. “Never- in all my time at Hogwarts-” Though it was quickly apparent that the breaks in her speech weren’t because she had been running, Harry couldn’t quite piece together if it had been panic or anger that was causing it instead. “-might have broken your neck-”

Shouts went up around him, a cacophony of voices that made Harry flinch. When had his classmates returned to being so close to him?

“That’s enough!” Professor McGonagall barked, silencing the lot. “Mr. Potter. Follow me. Now. The rest of you to the Great Hall. Immediately!”

Most of the First Years jumped into action, darting back towards the castle as if beating the professor to the doors would be enough to save them from her ire. But instead of following the First Years into the castle, Professor McGonagall walked right past the door and headed in the direction of the greenhouses.

If he hadn’t been so entangled in his emotions, he probably would have felt some relief at not having been taken directly to Severus. Or the Headmaster. Definitely better than the Headmaster; it meant he wasn’t being expelled quite yet.

Hopefully.

The good thing about the long walk was that by the time Professor McGonagall said, “Wait here,” sharply a good few yards from the only occupied greenhouse, the emotions had turned numb under his skin and his legs didn’t quite feel like jello anymore.

After a brief moment, Professor McGonagall returned with a concerned Professor Sprout. That concern quickly morphed into worry when she caught sight of Harry and she hurried over. “Good heavens, you look like you’ve been through the ringer.” Her hands came up around him as if to hug him and he tensed, not wanting contact right now. Not from her. Not from more strangers. But that’s all her hands did. They just sort of corralled him for a brief moment as if to keep him together without touching him. “What happened?”

The panic from his encounter with Draco and Professor McGonagall swooping in and whisking him away pressed hard on him and it was all he could do to speak clearly as the words tumbled from his mouth. He knew he was in the wrong for flying after Draco but he had to make sure they understood his reason. It was a reason, not an excuse. “Neville fell off his broom during flying lessons and Madam Hooch had to take Neville to the Hospital Wing. Some of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw started making fun of Neville once they were gone and a few of us stood up for him but it didn’t really do much and I tried to just get everyone to go back to the chalked off area like we were supposed to but one of the Slytherins ran into me and took my bracelet. They gave it to another Slytherin who said they were going to chuck it in the lake but I didn’t want my bracelet in the lake - it’s a gift from Tanner. Tanner made it so that we weren’t so far apart while I’m here at Hogwarts and so I couldn’t let it end up in the lake. I went after the Slytherin and eventually they just threw it so I dove after the bracelet but it was all safe. I knew what I was doing and I knew how the broom would respond. My Godfather’s had me on a broom since I could walk and I know I wasn’t supposed to be flying but I needed to get my bracelet back.”

The words tumbled to a halt rather abruptly. He gulped down air, trying desperately to get the burning in his throat and nose to go away.

His throat hurt so much.

“Oh, Harry,” Professor Sprout said, looking to Professor McGonagall. With the attention finally off of him, Harry let his gaze drop, worrying the bracelet as if it could magically quell the panic in his chest. “Minerva, why did you bring the poor boy here? Surely he would have been better off taken someplace quiet to calm down. He’s been through an ordeal and is clearly upset.”

“I am not his Head of House, Pomona,” Professor McGonagall said in a similar oddly sad voice. It was gone when she continued. “And as much as I would have liked to, I thought it best to bring him to you instead. I would suggest some recourse seeing as he was flying when he wasn’t supposed to and I will be encouraging Severus to do the same for Mr. Malfoy as well. I am sure plenty of my own House and that of the other Houses will be more than happy to tell me who was involved in the bullying so that I may inform Severus and Filius who else should receive punishment after today but Mr. Potter required your immediate attention.”

“Alright. Thank you, Minerva.”

Harry jerked his head up when a hand touched his shoulder and found Professor McGonagall offering him a tight look. “Your flying had been truly incredible; I’ve never seen anything like it. You would make an excellent addition to any Quidditch team if you chose to pursue Quidditch.”

“Alight, Harry,” Professor Sprout said as Professor McGonagall walked away. “Let me set my class to right and then I will walk you back to the dorm.”

Harry’s heart sank. Of course that would be the safe space Professor Sprout had been insinuating. No, it would be ok. He’d just be quick to his room and-

“Or would you rather go to Severus?”

His gaze was on her in an instant, hope flaring in his chest but he forced it back. Yes he desperately wanted to be someplace that felt like home but he was supposed to be on his own. He wasn’t supposed to have special privileges.

“I have to talk to Severus anyway,” Professor Sprout said gently. “This way you won’t have to tell him why you’re in trouble yourself.”

The hope he had quickly smothered finally went out. Oh. Right. He broke rules.

He nodded solemnly and dutifully trudged after her once she’d seen to her class. The walk was far too short for Harry’s liking and before he could really prepare himself for Severus’s reaction, Professor Sprout was leading him into Severus’s office.

Severus’s gaze flickered to him, concern flashing across that stern expression, before he fixed Professor Sprout with a steady, neutral gaze. “Pomona. Is there a problem?”

“I think our young Mr. Potter here could do with some familial comfort.” That concern returned to Severus’s expression to stay as the man stood from his desk. “There was a bullying incident during the flying lesson that involved Harry’s bracelet.” Understanding bled into the concern but just looking at Severus made it hard to keep from crying. He’d been doing so good. “He impressed Minerva with his flying skills but it was while Madam Hooch had called for all brooms to remain grounded.”

“Harry?” Severus softly coaxed, kneeling in front of him. “Can you look at me, please?”

Harry gave a vehement shake of his head. If he looked, he’d start crying and he couldn’t cry there. It wasn’t ok to cry there.

Severus’s hand carded through his hair with a firm but gentle touch, one Harry knew so well that it startled the sob right out of him. From one instance to the next, Harry found himself curled against Severus’s chest wailing. At first it was about the bracelet and Draco being horrible but the longer he cried, the more everything else started to bleed in. He’d hoped the brief moment of comfort with Severus at the start of term had been enough to get through to Halloween but it seemed to be far too much too quickly and the incident with Draco had been the tipping point.

Harry had no way of telling if it had been a few minutes or countless hours before the worst of the crying subsided. Vaguely he registered that Severus stopped talking when it became apparent Harry was reaching the end of it but what the man had been saying was beyond him.

“Are you able to look at me now, Harry?” Severus asked.

Could he? He was tired and his body felt a bit like smooshed jello but it wasn’t unmovable. He shifted in Severus’s hold enough to raise his head and look up. He didn’t get his gaze very high but he knew Severus wasn’t asking for eye contact. Severus never wanted eye contact. Just Harry’s focus for a moment. He could give Severus that; that would be ok.

“Do you want to go back to your dorm?”

No. Absolutely not. He hated sharing space. What semblance of personal space they did have was a joke.

Severus ran a soothing hand through his hair. “You will be sleeping in a new bed if you choose not to.”

“Don’t care,” Harry managed, the words sounding thick in his head. He pressed his face into Severus’s shoulder. “Can’t.”

Severus’s fingers carded through his hair again. “Alright. Pomona?”

“If you’re ok with it, you don’t need my permission.” There was a heavy pause before, “This has been a mess but I hope it’s the only mess he and the other First Years have to deal with.”

Severus’s hug tightened at that. “Agreed.”

The click of the door closing barely registered as the exhaustion finally won out and pulled Harry into sleep.
Harry stared at Severus, school robe halfway on with his hand caught in the other sleeve. “What?” he asked, the word coming out more like a squawk than an actual word. It returned inertia to his body and he haphazardly shoved his arm into the sleeve. “Why? What are the other kids receiving?”

“Detentions,” Severus offered crisply, though the softened edges of the man’s expression was enough for Harry to know it wasn’t simply being brushed aside. “A few will only serve a day or two. Mr. Malfoy will be serving two weeks.”

“But I’m supposed to suffer through mine until Winter Break!”

Severus sighed as he knelt. “I know it seems unfair right now but this truly has your best interest in mind.” Harry initially backed away from Severus’s reaching hand but seeked it out as the man talked. Severus’s hand carded through his hair, grounding and reassuring in equal parts. “Hogwarts lacks a lot of what you are used to back home and this will guarantee you spend some time not studying. While I wish there was another way to structure time for you to fly, at least you are not part of the team officially.”

“Unless someone is sick,” Harry grumbled.

Amusement pulled half a smile to Severus’s expression. “Well, yes, but as we have quite the talented witch in the Hospital Wing, it is highly improbable that any of the Quidditch team will require substitution from illness or the like. Now,” Severus stood and turned Harry towards the door, “off to breakfast. I will be right behind you.”

Harry still thought it was unfair. He could see where Severus and the other teachers were coming from - kind of - but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t serve a proper detention first. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t like Quidditch. Was that so hard for people to understand? There were far better things to do than waste time with a sport he-

“Well, well, well. Would you look at that; the Boy Who Lived being praised for doing a good deed.”

Harry’s gaze snapped up from the floor even though he already knew what he would find. Standing in the last stretch of hallway before the Great Hall was one Draco Malfoy and a cluster of other Slytherins. Harry wasn’t sure if they were all First Years or not but it didn’t matter. Draco was sneering ready for a fight and Harry wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of it. Turning right around, Harry started back the way he had come. There was more than one way to get to the Great Hall and, if nothing else, he wasn’t ashamed to simply go back and walk with Severus if he absolutely had to.

“Oi, Potter! You don’t get to ignore me!”

Several pairs of feet started running towards him. Spurred on by adrenaline and a spike of fear, Harry took off at a sprint without a glance back.

Someone remembered they had a wand because he heard a spell get shouted somewhere behind him before his feet started to not behave. Grabbing his own wand, he cast the only counter-jinx he knew. It worked to his immense relief but it hadn’t been quite fast enough. A hand roughly grabbed at his robe and shoved him against the wall. He managed to curl forward enough to keep his head from hitting the wall. Draco - because of course it was Draco - wasn’t strong enough to make the impact bruise but it would certainly hurt for some time.

“You think that just because you’re famous you can ignore whoever you want?” Draco demanded, his words edging on a snarl. “That you can throw your fame around to get out of punishments, too?”

“I’m getting punished just as you are, Malfoy,” Harry bit back, one hand on Draco’s wrist, the other still tightly gripping his wand down at his side.

“The hell you are! You got put on the Quidditch team!”

Vaguely Harry wondered if his appointment as the Hufflepuff reserve had been publicly announced or if Draco just somehow knew. “And I’d rather be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year than play Quidditch,” Harry snapped back. Something other than the apparent anger flickered in Draco’s expression. “Not everyone likes Quidditch and I would much rather have a few hours of detention every evening for two weeks than give up who knows how many evenings for practices I don’t even want to be at.” His grip tightened on Draco’s wrist as he glared at the Slytherin. “But, then, that’s what makes it a good punishment, isn’t it.” Draco’s anger was still there but the other had fallen silent in the wake of Harry’s words. It wasn’t like Harry had expected an actual response anyway. “Let go, Malfoy,” Harry said, his voice low and monotone in the threat, “before I make you let go.”

That spurred Draco back into action and the Slytherin took a solid step into Harry’s space, adding his weight to Harry’s chest. “I would like to see you try.”

If there had been some warning, some announcement to Severus’s arrival, Harry had missed it. Instead, Draco was suddenly not in front of Harry anymore and, for a brief moment, Harry thought it had been another student until a swirl of familiar black robes obscured his line of sight. The hall filled with noise. Draco was shouting, spitting accusations first at Harry and then at Severus, of all people, but it was all short lived as Draco quickly found himself with two more weeks of detention for threatening another student and picking a fight with a teacher. Had it been back at IPPA, Harry would have expected Draco to have been suspended instead but, then, Hogwarts wasn’t IPPA.

Severus was Professor Snape when he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and walked him past the gaggle of onlooking Slytherins. There were no kind words exchanged, no check-in, but the touch was gentle, caring despite how Severus made it look. “I would do my best to avoid causing any more trouble, Mr. Potter, or you might actually end up serving detention,” Severus warned before turning on the Slytherins still standing there.

Harry hurried off, leaving the Slytherins to their Head of House.

Would they get reprimanded as well?

Would they blame him?

Most of his friends were at the Gryffindor table today and Harry was immensely grateful they were as far from the Slytherins as was possible. Blaise was sitting with them but Blaise wasn’t the Slytherins Harry was avoiding now. He plopped himself between Hannah and Fred a bit too quickly and ended up bumping them both. Neither commented on it, though Fred did send him a worried look. Harry pretended to not notice as he greeted everyone and everyone’s attention turned to him.

Unfortunately, the topic of conversation went immediately to the rumors flying around.

Ron choked on his juice. Susan didn’t let the startled silence last, quickly asking, “How is being the Hufflepuff Quidditch team a punishment?”

“It’s Quidditch,” Ron said, struggling through the remnants of his inhaling of juice. “There’s no way. This has to be a joke.”

Harry made a face, though his gaze didn’t stray from the table. “I wish. Would be better if it was.”

“But Quidditch?” Blaise asked, more neutral about it than the rest of the group. “Isn’t that more of a reward than punishment?”

“I don’t like Quidditch,” Harry reiterated for what felt like the hundredth time. “It’s an ok sport but it’s not fun to me. Besides, I’m only the reserve. It’s not like I’ll actually play.”

“Not unless someone gets sick,” Fred put in.

George added, “Or injured.”

Fred nodded. “Which does happen.”

“Still, though,” Ron said, the words still sounding a bit breathless. “To be made part of the Quidditch team as punishment.”

“Give me cleaning cauldrons any day,” Harry grumbled, pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate.

“And that’s why it’s a fitting punishment,” Hermione said, sitting down in her usual spot not far from Neville. When she gained incredulous looks from everyone including those from the other table, her cheeks darkened but her posture stayed proud. “Just because you all enjoy Quidditch doesn’t mean everyone does.”

“Have you ever seen a Quidditch match?” Ron challenged. When Hermione’s lips tightened in her hesitation to respond, Ron took it as answer enough. “Wait until you actually see a match! Then you’ll understand how it’s not a punishment.”

Harry had hoped his friends would have been a bit more receptive to the fact that he didn’t like Quidditch and that the punishment seemed to be far larger than what Draco had to deal with and Draco had been the one to instigate the whole reason why Harry was even being punished in the first place.

A soft touch settled on Harry’s arm and he looked over to find Hannah’s concerned expression as neutral as she could make it. “Want to come visit Hagrid with me?” she asked softly. “Before class.” He tried to keep his dislike for the idea private but it must have shown on his face because she offered him a gentle smile. “He’s really kind and I think escaping all this is better than staying in it.” She leaned in closer and whispered, “I don’t really get Quidditch either so you can vent about it on the way.”

Harry relaxed and offered her a weak smile. “Ok.”

They stood and left without a word to the others who were now debating Quidditch teams and game tactics. Hannah took Harry’s hand and didn’t let go, not even when they approached the small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest after a good few minutes of walking. And just as Hannah said he could, Harry ranted about the stupidity that was his punishment and Quidditch the entire way. Hannah seemed quite happy to chime in once he started on Quidditch specifically, joining him in his lack of understanding of how people could get so into a sport. It was nice that Hannah came from Muggle culture so she knew the craze even the Muggles had and the pair were sharing comparisons by the time they reached the house.

It was certainly smaller than Harry’s home but that was about it. The door seemed larger than a standard door and the house itself, though self contained, seemed like it could hold the entire Hufflepuff common room with ease. There was a fence that stretched sideways from the back of the house that enclosed what looked to be some kind of garden. There was more fencing beyond it but from the doorstep, Harry couldn’t see much more. A scattering of items were tucked in around the house - barrels and crates predominant - but a crossbow and a set of galoshes were resting beside the front door.

Hannah knocked on the door with the same carefree cheer she had been in the entire walk. It was rubbing off on Harry and he was determined to thank Hannah later for it. Barking started up immediately at Hannah’s knocking. Harry looked to Hannah in surprise even as a voice from inside called out, “Back, Fang! Back! Calm down, you great lug.”

“Hagrid has a dog,” Hannah explained with a shrug. “He’s a good boy but a bit rambunctious.” Worry crossed her expression. “You’re not allergic, are you?”

Harry shook his head as Hagrid opened the door. Hagrid beamed at Hannah as Fang tugged against the collar Hagrid had a firm hold on, though Hagrid’s gaze did flicker over Harry briefly. Fang was a massive black dog that wasn’t as tall as Snuffles at the shoulder but was certainly stockier as if built to take down boar instead of deer or wolves. “Good morning, Hannah! What brings you way out here this early? Don’t you have classes?”

“Morning, Hagrid. Yes, we do, but I wanted to go for a walk; and since Harry was kind enough to join me, I thought I’d stop by and let him say hi since I haven’t been very good on bringing my friends by to say hi like I said I would.”

Hagrid chuckled, the sound a deep rumble that seemed as light as the breeze drifting through the treetops. “Don’t fret about bringing them around. You know that I don’t mind just hearing about them.”

Hannah smiled brightly. “I know but I still want to.” She looked to Harry. “Harry, this is Hagrid. Hagrid, this is Harry.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Harry,” Hagrid said, shaking Harry’s hand. “Hannah and Susan talk highly of you when they’re here.”

“Hopefully only good things?” he asked, though it was more of a tease in Hannah’s direction.

She playfully swatted his arm even as Hagrid spoke proudly, “The best of things. Now, how much time do you two have? Enough for a spot of tea?”

“Enough for a cup, at least,” Hannah said, stepping forward. She paused at the threshold as Hagrid disappeared back into the house tugging a still eager Fang. She met Harry’s gaze. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Harry, already halfway into the motion of following after her, shook his head. “I don’t mind staying for a cup.”

The inside of the house was unsurprisingly full, though it didn’t feel cramped. There were a number of food materials hanging from the ceiling, a massive bed off to one side, a fireplace, and a table among all of the other items Hagrid kept in there. Harry could make out a cage and what looked like a bear trap tucked in behind a few crates. Hannah crossed to the table and sat down, looking smaller than she normally was beside the massive table. Harry joined her.

Fang, released so that Hagrid could get the tea together, bounded over to Harry and Hannah and immediately started loving on both of them. Harry didn’t mind dogs but the slobber of any breed always made him recoil. He was used to Snuffles but, then, Snuffles didn’t slobber like a lot of the bigger breeds were prone to; Fang in particular was drooling on Hannah’s lap as she happily petted his head and Harry shuddered at the idea of drool soaked pants.

Hagrid placed three cups on the table. “So, Harry. Been enjoying your time at Hogwarts?”

“For the most part.”

Tiny droplets splattered onto the table as Hagrid filled each cup. “Gotten the chance to learn much about your parents while you’ve been here?”

“No,” Harry said, drawing his cup closer. “But my guardians have told me many stories about them. One of them said there was a plaque with my dad’s name on it in the trophy room but I haven’t gone to see it yet.”

“Both of your parents probably are, what with them being Head Boy and Girl when they were here, but your guardian was probably talking about the Quidditch plaques. Your dad was one of the best Seekers Gryffindor has ever had, mind you. And I heard that you’ve now been made part of the Hufflepuff’s team. Youngest to join in over a century, so I hear.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m only the reserve; I only play if there’s a player unable to play on game day.”

There was a pause, a brief moment of contemplation before Hagrid asked, “Don’t care much for Quidditch, do ya?” Harry looked up in surprise and found Hagrid watching him with a fond smile. “Your mum wasn’t too fond of Quidditch either. At least when compared to the rest of the students. She would much rather find a nice place to read on the grounds or help in the gardens than sit in the stands but she went just as all the other students did and found ways to enjoy it with everyone else.”

“Did you know her well, then?”

Hagrid stroked his beard. “I wouldn’t say well, but I did know your mum and dad. They were good people, once they let themselves be.”

That peaked Harry’s interest. “Are you talking about my dad and his friends picking on Professor Snape back when they were in school?”

Hagrid sat up straighter, almost as if he had been taken aback by Harry’s question. “You’ve been told about that?” Harry nodded. “That would be it, yeah. Your dad and Sirius - you know who Sirius is, yeah?” Harry gave another nod. “Those two were not the kindest of boys. I never learned quite what it was about Snape that had earned him their wrath but they would go out of their way to pick on him. It died down the older they got - or I just didn’t hear about it as much - but when they left school, it was very clear where the line had been drawn.” Hagrid gave Harry a rather shrewd look. “Who you living with now? Did Sirius take you in? He was named your Godfather when you were born and I certainly haven’t seen him since- ah, well…”

Harry adjusted his grip on his cup. “My guardians have asked to remain nameless but I have spent time with my Godfather.”

“How is Sirius?”

“Good.” He hesitated. Certainly it wouldn’t hurt to give more than that, right? “He’s working and seemed healthy the last time I saw him.”

Hagrid nodded. “Do you know if him and Remus are still in contact with each other? Remus had been one of their friends.”

“I know Remus,” Harry assured Hagrid. “I’ve met him as I’ve met Sirius. As far as I know they stay in contact.” Watching his tongue was weird. “They’re the ones that have told me a lot of the stories about my mom and dad.”

“Good.” Hagrid sagged a bit more in his seat. “Good.”

Hannah pulled the conversation away from Harry and his family by asking after Hagrid’s garden. From what little Harry picked up, it sounded like Hannah occasionally dropped by to help. Harry had nothing to contribute with the topic on gardening so he let his gaze wander over the not overly clean table. There was a small scattering of what looked like newspaper clippings and other documents on the table, though most weren’t overly understandable being folded or the backside of a torn out article. One was a cutting from the Daily Prophet, a small article that seemed rather odd for Hagrid to have kept.



Gringotts Break-In Latest

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July that is widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches still unknown. Gringotts goblins insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.



Huh. Harry tucked the article back into place. Maybe Susan would know a bit more about that since her aunt was in the Ministry.

Cedric stopped him and Hannah as they were heading to their first class in order to let Harry know that first practice would be that evening. Despite Hannah’s best efforts, Harry’s mood declined the longer the day went on. Hermione’s solution at dinnertime was to give Harry a book, much to the disbelief of most of the others. Harry, though, was grateful for the distraction, appreciating that it wasn’t a nonfiction book even more. It was a worn fantasy novel and Harry had a mind to ask after whose it was when he gave it back.

“Harry?”

Harry looked up from the book to find an older student standing on the steps to the window nook Harry had claimed since he had returned to the dorm after dinner. The older student offered him a reassuring smile, finished ascending the steps, and offered a hand to shake. “Sebastian Reed. I’m Captain of the Hufflepuff team.”

“And Head Boy,” Harry added, getting up and shaking Sebastian’s hand.

Sebastian blinked before chuckling. “And Head Boy,” he repeated, oddly amused by it. “I’ve come to gather you for Quidditch practice.”

Harry frowned, glancing at the nearest clock. “But I still have half an hour.”

“I figured it’d be better if we started a bit early in one of the unused classrooms. Gives you the chance to meet everyone.” Sebastian gave him a rather pointed look. “Gives me the chance to fill everyone in.”

Annoyance pressed against his chest but he ignored it, looking back at his belongings still tucked into the window seat. “I’ve got to put my stuff away.”

“Of course.”

Sebastian didn’t say much as he led the way towards some unused classroom not far from the Hufflepuff common room. Six students were already inside chatting away and appearing content, if not a bit bored. Harry immediately recognized Cedric and quickly moved to take up the seat next to the Third Year.

“Good, everyone’s here,” Sebastian said, stifling the chatter almost immediately. “Let’s get underway, then, so that we’re not wasting anyone’s time.”

“Right to business, ey, Sebastian?” teased one of the older Years.

Sebastian ignored the comment. “I’m sure you all are aware that Harry will be joining us until Winter Break as our reserve but I want to make sure you all understand what that will entail.”

“Is he just reserve for Seeker or is he going to be filling every position?” a different older Year asked.

“All positions,” Sebastian clarified, raising his hands quickly as several spoke out. “Hold up, hold up. Before you all start talking over one another and before I get too far into the explanation, I want you all to introduce yourselves. No point having Harry sit here not knowing who you all are.”

“What, like he knows you?” It was the same older Year who had teased Sebastian earlier.

Sebastian gave them a flat look. “Go first.”

The student snorted before looking to Harry. “Travis Clayton, Seventh Year, Beater.”

The one to Travis’s right raised a hand in greeting. “Sarah Johnson. Sixth Year and I’m the other Beater.”

The one sitting on Travis’s left leaned forward. “Becky Moore. Fifth Year and one of the Chasers. Peter and Sebastian are the other two.”

Sebastian nodded and the person sitting on Cedric’s other side raised their hand. “Peter Rollins. Fourth Year.”

“And I’m the Keeper,” said the one sitting between Peter and Becky. “Vanny Hense. Fifth Year.”

Harry looked to Cedric. “Making you Seeker, then?”

“Yep,” Cedric said, grinning. “I’m also the youngest as the only Third Year. Well, not including you.”

Vanny reached around Peter and ruffled Cedric’s hair. “Ced might be the youngest but he’s one spitfire of a Seeker. We’re sure to win the Cup this year with him on the team.”

“Cedric,” Sebastian said, a frown heavy both in tone and on his face. “Introduce yourself.”

“Ah, but we-” Harry started but Cedric cut him off with a brief touch to the knee and an even faster, “Right, Captain. Sorry.” Cedric turned to Harry, grinning again. “Cedric Diggory. Third Year and the team’s Seeker.”

Sebastian nodded. “And I’m Sebastian Reed. This will be my last year as both Captain and Chaser as a Seventh Year so I expect everyone to step up and show me that Hufflepuff has a standing chance of winning the Cup once I leave.”

“Not expecting to win it this year?” Travis asked, an eyebrow cocked as if challenging Sebastian.

Sebastian only raised an eyebrow in return stating simply, “I expect our team to be the best performing team on the field but if you keep being chauvinistic and missing the bludger, I will not hesitate to post for a new Beater.”

Snickers danced through the room as Travis, rather dramatically, pressed a hand to his chest and feigned offense even as a grin colored the edges of his expression. “You wouldn’t dare,” Travis said, that challenging glint very clear in the older Year’s eyes.

Sebastian strode over and pressed a hand into one of the desks sitting next to Travis, letting it take his weight as he leaned in close and challenged right back, “Try me.”

Harry jumped when something plopped against Sebastian’s shoulder at the same time Becky bemoaned, “Get a room, you two.”

“No flirting in front of the First Year,” Sarah chastised, though Harry could make out the teasing tones in both of their words.

Sebastian huffed as Travis started laughing. Cedric leaned over and whispered, “Don’t mind them. They’ve been like this since I’ve been on the team.” As Sebastian straightened, Harry couldn’t see a hint of embarrassment between the two Seventh Years. “Sarah says they’ve been like this since she’s been in Hufflepuff but they only started dating after they made team their Third Year.” He did, however, catch Travis’s fingers sliding down Sebastian’s arm to briefly cover the other’s hand before Sebastian pulled away completely. “They’re both professional on the field, though, so it’s only during and in between practices that they act like this. The rest of us have gotten used to getting them back on track.”

Peter leaned over, adding, “I’ve gotten really good at conjuring pillows. If you ever need one to chuck at them, let me know.”

Harry nodded, though he didn’t expect to need one. Knowing they weren’t going to start going after each other’s throats was enough for him. They could flirt all they wanted; it wasn’t like it affected him.

“Alright,” Sebastian said, emphasizing it with a clap of his hands, “now. The ground rules with Harry. He is our reserve and our reserve only. The only reason he’s here is because at least one of the professors has a sick joke on what a punishment should entail.”

“Wait,” Becky interjected, sitting up, “so the punishment rumor was actually real?”

“How can Quidditch be a punishment?” Travis added.

Sarah shoved at him with her foot. “Not everyone likes Quidditch, numbskull.”

Travis grinned at her. “And here I thought you were going to say it was because of me.”

“No, you’re Sebastian’s hell. We don’t care until you let a bludger through.”

That gained a round of chuckles.

“Back to point,” Sebastian said. “I expect each and every one of you to do your best not to get sick before a game. I want us to put forth as much effort as we can to keep Harry from ever having to play a game. Practice will be practice but having him here will also help us to remember to have fun during practices as well. I expect you to treat him right as you’re showing him the ropes on the days he’s slated to train with you. Understood?”

Vanny raised a hand. “So we’re each going to have time teaching Harry?”

Sebastian nodded. “I’ll set up rotations as I see fit but, for starters, we’ll start with a week per position. If I find that’s not working, I’ll change it up but I don’t want to pass him around too frequently otherwise he’s not going to be able to learn.”

Harry stiffened when several pairs of eyes landed on him. It was Sarah who asked, “You ever play, Harry?”

“Not on a team but one of my guardians was determined I knew about Quidditch and how to play, though the focus was on the Seeker position since my dad was Seeker for Gryffindor.”

“You have the build for Seeker,” Travis said, sounding as if he was agreeing on Harry focusing on Seeker. “One of my friends in Ravenclaw told me about hearing you flying from one of the First Years. From the sounds of it, you’ve got the skills for Seeker, too.”

Harry sank a bit deeper into his perch, looking to Sebastian. While he was pleased with the praise, the reminder of yesterday was uncomfortable.

Sebastian stepped forward, taking up the group’s attention once more. “We’ll all get to see how he flies later. Right now, since we’re here, I want to go over a few maneuvers I want us to practice today before we hit the field.”

Quidditch practices were indeed something Harry had needed. Sebastian was an amazing Captain, putting Harry through his paces while at the same time making it fun. It became very apparent very quickly that Harry was a good Seeker and a good Keeper if given a broom that could handle the maneuvers Harry was naturally inclined to do to catch either ball. Chaser was a bit trickier since Harry’s aim and throwing strength was horrible but he had potential since he very rarely fumbled or dropped a ball. Beater was more complicated. Making contact was the easiest part but hitting the bludger was like hitting a cannonball with too heavy of a stick. Getting the bludger to go in the right direction was seemingly impossible, especially when it became clear Harry just didn’t have the arm strength to swing the bat around hard enough.

But, more than anything, Harry found himself looking forward to practice, to joining everyone on the field and running through whatever plans Sebastian had that were more like games than rigorous exercises. Even within the short span between that horrible Thursday and Halloween, Harry saw progress. Practice the night of the 30th had seen Harry throw the quaffle - with decent accuracy - further than he had the first time he’d thrown the quaffle and the entire team had been as thrilled as he had.

Halloween the next day was uneventful but the Halloween Feast was definitely something to write home about. The Great Hall was decked out in decorations. Numerous carved pumpkins floated among the candles that normally filled the air between the tables and ceiling. The ceiling itself was still enchanted but bats fluttered from the rafters to ledges along the walls. It was hard to gauge if they were living or enchanted but they never swooped beneath the lowest candles, though their wings did stir the little candle flames.

The tables hadn’t bothered to separate into the individual Houses, friends too eager to celebrate together to care about tradition. Students moved freely between the tables and the entire atmosphere was joyous. For the most part, at least.

Susan sat down heavily at Harry’s side and sighed, alone despite what Harry could assume was her best effort. Harry lowered his fork as he asked, “No luck?”

“She won’t even talk to me,” Susan ground out, shooting Ron a dark look. Ron was sitting at the Gryffindor table and was oblivious to their conversation as he chatted with Seamus. “Honestly, I don’t know where he gets off on being so mean to her.”

“It’s not like she doesn’t deserve to be knocked down a few pegs,” Draco drawled.

Susan turned her glare to the Slytherin at the same time Blaise and Hannah glared at him. “What, like you don’t?” Susan spat.

Harry frowned at Draco but he diverted the escalating fight by touching Susan’s arm and regaining her focus. “We’ll just have to make sure she gets something to eat later tonight. I’m sure the house-elves would be more than happy to recreate anything she wants.”

Before anything more could be said on the matter, Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall with his turban askew and terror on his face. A hush fell over the hall as most of the student body fell quiet to listen. There were scattered few muttering but the tone was confused or inquisitive as Professor Quirrell slumped against the head table. “Troll. In the dungeons. Thought you ought to know,” he said between gasps of breath before slumping to the floor as if the man had fainted.

It was a split second before the hall exploded with pandemonium. Quite a number of students surged to their feet and quite a number had wands in hand.

Several loud cracks rang through the hall. Harry flinched, looking over to see the Headmaster standing with his wand raised, his expression tight but still kind. “Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately. Head Boy and Girl, you will accompany the Slytherins. Hufflepuffs, take the smaller passageways.”

Shouts to organize immediately filled the room as the student body started to sort itself into Houses. Harry stood to follow but Susan grabbed at his arm, her grip painful. “Hermione,” she hissed, her eyes bright with either fear or determination. “She doesn’t know about the troll.”

“Could always tell a Prefect,” Blaise suggested, only overhearing because he was standing right behind Susan with Hannah. “Or a Professor.”

“They’re going to be busy protecting the rest of the student body,” Susan countered, shaking her head.

Harry looked around the room. Surely someone would help them if they asked. Unfortunately, Susan’s comment seemed to be founded as the professors started leaving the hall through a side passage. “If we’re quick, we should be fine. Go in, get her, and then head for Gryffindor Tower. Avoid any ways to the dungeons.”

“But we don’t know where that is,” Hannah said as Blaise stepped away. “And Hermione might be too upset to help.”

“We can snag Ron on the way,” Harry said, though he doubted Hermione would remain upset if they told her a troll was in the castle. “Come on.”

The three Hufflepuffs moved through the crowd with surprising ease. Harry had no idea where Blaise had gone off to; hopefully to tell a Prefect or something. Finding Ron was nearly as easy as cutting through the crowd. Harry grabbed at Ron’s arm, rushing, “We’re getting Hermione. Come with us.”

“What?” Ron said before his brain caught up with Harry’s words. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re the prat that made her go cry in the bathroom,” Susan spat.

Ron flinched but Harry didn’t give him a chance to snap back. “It’ll be safer to head to Gryffindor Tower and we figured it was better to have two Gryffindors to rely on remembering the way and the password than the one that’s also been crying all day.” He tugged on Ron’s arm. “Come on, Ron. The more of us there are, the safer we’ll be.”

Ron glanced at something over Harry’s head before huffing a sigh. “Fine, but if Malfoy starts anything, I’m leaving you all behind.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, Draco was standing right behind him, along with Blaise and Theodore. Draco didn’t look overly pleased but the Slytherin was looking paler than normal so maybe that was the fear. He looked to Susan. “Lead the way.”

The small pack of friends slipped into a side hallway before they broke out into a run. Susan led them down the fastest route to the bathroom Hermione was in only to come to a screeching halt around the last corner. Several people collided with her - Harry among them - but between all of them, no one fell.

It was obvious what had caused her to freeze.

A foul stench seeped into their nostrils as they watched a massive figure trudge away from them, grunting and huffing as it dragged what looked to be a club behind it. There was no mistaking it for anything other than the troll it was, easily twice the height of most of the Professors and twice as big as Hagrid. They watched as it stopped and bent close to a doorway, peering inside. Even from that distance Harry could make out its ears flicking as if it was listening or thinking before it committed to the thought and slowly entered the room.

Hannah let out a pitiful squeak as Susan said breathlessly, “That’s the restroom Hermione’s in!”

Blaise placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder as Susan, Draco, and Ron took off at a run again. Harry lingered, confused until Blaise urged, “Hannah, go find a teacher! Quick!”

“I’ll go with her!” Theodore said, taking off after Hannah.

Light flared from the open doorway as echoes of some shouted spell reached Harry and Blaise as nothing more than sounds. Harry and Blaise had their wands in hand by the time they careened through the doorway to find the massive troll had turned around to focus on Ron and Draco. The pair were against the side wall closest to the door as Susan snuck past under the sinks.

Ron and Draco were standing a good ways apart and were alternating at getting the troll’s attention.

“Oi, pea-brain!” Ron shouted as he threw a pipe. The troll didn’t seem to notice the pipe hitting its arm but it did hone in on Ron’s shout.

Blaise darted past Harry after Susan and Harry raised his wand. “Here you great lug!” he shouted, trying and failing to recall any spell that could help. There had to be something he could do to help beyond just yelling.

Draco shouted a spell in his stead and the Leg-Locker Curse hit the troll. The curse didn’t have the normal effect but it did seem to throw the troll’s balance off and that was distraction enough.

Except, the troll was swaying in the wrong direction, leaning dangerously towards Susan, Blaise, and Hermione who weren’t even close to the door yet. Without a second thought, Harry took a running leap and latched onto the troll, throwing his weight towards the stalls as the troll staggered. It didn’t seem to notice him there but it was enough to get the troll to start swaying a different direction. Unfortunately, Harry was forced to climb higher as the troll kept moving towards the stalls, shattering the doors of two and the support between them. Harry managed to loop his arms around the troll’s neck but had forgotten he still had his wand in hand.

The troll howled in pain as Harry’s wand was shoved up its nose. There was a large clatter as the massive club came around, smashing another two stalls and half of a third in its wake. Harry was certain if the troll wasn’t also trying not to fall over, its free hand would have grabbed him by now.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

Ron’s shout echoed off the walls as the club was jerked out of the troll’s hand. Harry immediately let go, his feet hitting uneven ground and going out from under him. Draco appeared seemingly out of nowhere and practically manhandled him back towards safety as the club rose higher before dropping with a sickening crack on the troll’s head. The troll stayed upright for a brief moment before falling flat on its face with enough force, the floor trembled beneath their feet.

Draco was still clinging to Harry as Harry slowly got his feet back under him and Harry wasn’t inclined to let go any time soon either. They were both trembling, adrenaline still coursing through veins as all of them starred at the troll.

“Is it dead?” Hermione asked from where she was tucked into Susan’s side, her voice weak and trembling.

“I don’t think so,” Blaise said. Harry started when the other boy stepped into his line of view, crossing to the troll’s head. “Just knocked out by the looks of it.”

Ron joined Blaise for a moment before it became clear what Blaise was doing. Both Slytherin and Gryffindor made a face at the state of Harry’s wand and Blaise was quick to rub the troll boogers off on the troll’s trousers. Harry was going to have to wash his wand once they were safe in the common room again.

Something slammed as a cacophony of footfall suddenly filled the room. All of them jumped, whipping around as Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell came bursting into the room. Professor Quirrell caught sight of the troll and looked like he would faint again as he stepped back over the threshold.

“I don’t believe it,” Professor McGonagall said. Her expression was pinched, like she was pissed, but her words quaked in what Harry was hoping was relief. “Are all of you unharmed?” As they all nodded some sort of affirmation, clustering closer towards her and away from the troll, she started talking again. “What were you all thinking running off like that? You could have been seriously hurt.”

“But Hermione didn’t know about the troll,” Susan rushed, still clinging to Hermione. “I knew where she was because we’d been studying before dinner but because she was in the restroom when the announcement went out, she wouldn’t have known and I really thought that we would be ok if we stayed together and were quick about making our way to Gryffindor Tower.”

Blaise placed a hand on Susan’s shoulder, offering in a much calmer voice, “Susan hadn’t wanted to risk anyone else and with the whole of the student body in danger, she didn’t want to draw attention away from their protection so we went with her. It wasn’t like we thought the troll would actually be up here but we figured it would be better to have safety in numbers just in case; if nothing else, it made it possible to send two of us to find teachers when we did find the troll.”

“We really weren’t trying to go up against the troll,” Susan said, her voice quaking even more now. “We just wanted to make sure Hermione was safe, too. Please. She could have died had we not shown up when we had.”

Professor McGonagall’s expression softened. “As much as I would like to deduct points for your tomfoolery to come after Miss Granger yourselves…” Professor McGonagall’s gaze landed on the troll for a moment. “…I will not deny that you all did something very brave and most likely aided in keeping Miss Granger and yourselves alive until we could arrive. Five points will be awards to each of you for your efforts today.” Professor McGonagall turned a sharp look onto Susan. “I will presume going up against a mountain troll will be punishment enough. I expect future situations will have you running to an adult first, until you are of age and are trained to handle such situations. Children should never have to deal with these sort of situations, especially not on their own.”

“Professor,” Blaise spoke up as Susan nodded. “What of Hannah and Theo? Will they be getting points too?”

“They have to be included in this,” Harry said, cutting off whatever Professor McGonagall’s first reaction to Blaise’s question was. It wouldn’t be fair if Hannah and Theodore didn’t receive points, too.

Ron nodded. “They would have stayed and helped. And running to a teacher in time has got to be worth something.”

Professor McGonagall sent Severus a look that Harry was all too familiar with. It was the same look Remus and Severus would shoot each other when Sirius was being rather ridiculous but had a good point. Severus, for his part, only raised an eyebrow. Apparently he was going to let her choose. With a heavy sigh, Professor McGonagall said, “Yes, Miss Abbott and Mister Nott will also receive five points each. Now, enough fretting about points. We will be escorting you back to your common rooms.”

“Ah, Minerva-” Professor Quirrell started nervously but Severus cut him off, his voice flat. “I can manage the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins back to their dorms, Minerva. Let Quirrell stay and guard the troll.”

Professor Quirrell gave a feeble squeak.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Severus. “If you are sure, Severus.” Severus nodded. “Alright, then. Quirinus, I will be back with the Headmaster shortly and then we can get this creature out of the castle.”

The children were ushered out of the room. Susan gave Hermione a tight hug before following after Severus and Harry lingered long enough to give Hermione a hug as well. As he started after Severus, he caught Ron muttering, “Sorry about earlier, ‘Mione. I was a bit of a prat saying that.”

“A bit,” Hermione agreed just as softly. After a moment, she added, “Thank you. For the rescue.”

“Course.”

Harry hurried to catch up with a small bit of hope in his chest. Maybe now Hermione could be part of his friend group properly.
Sirius muttered some curse into the lid of his hot chocolate before taking a drink. Severus understood his frustration. Even reiterating the events from Halloween made it even clearer how poorly things were being handled. Sirius bit out, “And nothing happened afterwards? Nothing for the parents?” A pause as if it dawned on him. “Nothing for the kids?”

“The few nightmares that were reported were discussed and only two students were prescribed Dreamless Sleep.” Severus sighed. “But, no. Nothing more was done.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

Silence settled between them, filled by the sounds of the world around them. Godric’s Hollow was anything but a sleepy little town late that Saturday morning. Severus could hear kids playing somewhere on the street behind them and quite a number of cars had passed since he and Sirius had settled against the fence. There had even been others who had walked through the graveyard and most bid respect to one of the many gravestones. If any had been inclined to encroach on Lily and James’s headstone, none had followed through. Severus wasn’t sure if that was due to Remus standing over Harry as the boy regaled the ghosts of his parents with tales of the previous year or if it was because of him and Sirius standing at the fence watching the pair and those that passed by.

Or, maybe they had enough respect for the dead to leave the poor boy alone.

Severus sighed and took a long drink of his coffee, appreciating the warmth. The most likely answer was the unfamiliarity of Sirius and Remus - and possibly himself - with Harry. There had been a scattering of photos over the years. The few of Sirius were old photos of a clean shaven, younger version and the few photos of Severus had been of his back from their abbreviated trip to Diagon Alley and while the photos had captured Remus and Snuffles, Harry’s face had been buried in Remus’s shoulder saving the boy from being immediately recognized.

Both Remus and Sirius were glamoured heavily for today’s visit. Sirius had added quite a bit of gray to his black hair, lengthening it and thickening the curls until he had a literal mane of it. The front strands were clipped back barely keeping the mane controlled. The full beard he had added was a bushel of tight curls yet well maintained into an elongated rounded shape. Well dressed in high end muggle attire, Sirius looked nothing like any of the photos that had circulated.

Remus had leaned heavily into the old man look, going for a head of silver hair in curls that were reminiscent of Sirius’s but lacked the mane look, all of it neatly tied back at the nape of his neck under a fedora. His own beard of tight curls was closely trimmed to his jaw, though it was rounded to hide his jaw line. Dressed in a similar fashion, Remus’s cane looked to be of equally high caliber.

The only thing Severus had done was added a tightly trimmed goatee and exaggerated the curl in his hair to mimic the other two. The intent was to look like four generations spending time together and in Severus’s opinion, they had managed that well.

“Harry seems rather unaffected by all of it,” Sirius said, balancing a - Severus presumed - empty to-go cup on the backrest of Remus’s wheelchair.

“I will not pretend to know how his day to day life has been but he has appeared fine; outside of not sleeping well. He has been sleeping in his room within my quarters at his own request since Halloween. Though he has yet to wake up screaming, I highly doubt it has been restful sleep.”

Severus was certain Sirius had seen the flicker of pain he himself had caught crossing Remus’s face. Sirius nodded, picking the cup back up. “Hopefully this will help.”

“I’m sure it will.” He took a step forward as Remus started towards them leaning heavily on his cane. “It would appear Remus has reached his limit. I will give you some time to fill him in.”

“Appreciated,” chased after him as he walked away.

Remus didn’t say anything as they passed, merely offered him a tired smile and a pat on the arm before hobbling on. The fact that the man was even walking was either a miracle or the man’s own stubbornness. The full moon on the first had been far from kind to Remus.

The boy grinned up at him for a brief moment before focusing back on the headstone, not once stopping in his retelling of the past year. The bracelet from Tanner was caught between bare fingers and danced about as Harry recounted the event that had landed him on the Quidditch team.

A pang of something close to guilt shot through Severus for the second time that day. He hadn’t even realized Harry hadn’t been wearing the precious gift until the boy had nearly forgotten it as they were leaving that morning and the fact that young Malfoy’s actions had caused such dire effects-

Severus stopped that particular train of thought. Harry hardly seemed bothered by it anymore with the enthusiastic way he was describing his dive but that didn’t mean the mark wasn’t still there. If the boy left the bracelet in his room once they returned, it would be proof enough. Severus knelt at Harry’s side as the boy tucked the bracelet back into place on his left wrist and discreetly reapplied the warming charms to Harry’s mittens. To his surprise, Harry let him put them on instead of taking them as Severus had expected.

Not once did Harry’s narrative drop, not even when Severus went as far as to make sure Harry’s hat was still covering the boy’s ears and Harry’s scarf was still tucked high around the boy’s neck.

No, the only time Harry’s story faltered was when Harry got to Halloween.

Harry fell silent, unfocused gaze lingering in the space before the headstone. Severus put a hand on Harry’s back. “Harry?” he asked gently.

Harry shook his head. “I’m ok.” The boy’s gaze focused on the names of his parents as a soft smile tugged at his lips. “You two would be so mad. A troll got into the school and Hermione had been in the bathroom. My friends and I had gone to get her but the troll had the same idea somehow and we ended up having to take on a mountain troll to keep all of us safe for the teachers to get to us.” A breathy laugh escaped Harry as he said, “Ron finally got Wingardium Leviosa to work. Dropped the troll’s club right on its head.” That pride and amusement flickered and faded and Harry’s gaze fell onto that in between space again. “I’m glad no one got hurt but I don’t…” Harry rubbed the back of a mitten against his cheek. Severus couldn’t quite decipher the look it hid. “I want to go back to IPPA. I want to go home. We never had to deal with trolls back home.”

Severus slipped his arm around Harry and pulled the boy into a tight hug. Mittened hands clung to the back of his coat as best they could as Harry pushed his face into Severus’s scarf. Knowing that the glasses were going to be of no use anymore, Severus managed to get Harry to pull back enough for him to steal them. Severus tucked them into a pocket as Harry tried to bury himself into Severus’s embrace. The breakdown he had been expecting from Harry finally reached the boy and Severus sat on that cold, hard ground for what felt like hours yet seconds all at once as he held Harry tight to his chest listening to the boy wail against him. He didn’t say anything as he waited for the emotions to run their course and for Harry to naturally calm down.

“I want to go home,” Harry muttered as the breakdown came to an end, arms now lax and tucked between them.

Severus rested his chin on Harry’s head. An individual was standing at the other end of the graveyard, a bouquet of flowers hanging nearly limp in their hand as they stared at a headstone. Even from where he sat, he could make out the far off look on their face that Remus and Sirius had worn that first year after Lily and James’s death. Idly, he wondered how long ago their loss had been. “I know you do,” Severus said. “You will for the holidays.”

“Can’t we go home now?”

Severus raised an eyebrow at that and let his gaze fall to what of Harry he could see without moving his head. “I was under the impression that the plan for today was to grab lunch before gift shopping for your friends. Are you no longer interested in that plan?”

Harry sat up at that and met his gaze as well as the boy could without his glasses. “No; I still want to go shopping.”

A fond smile tugged the corner of his lips up and he reached out, fixing Harry’s hat. “I know you want to go home, Harry, and after Halloween, nothing would please me more than to send you home. However, you and I both know that doing so would solve nothing.” Harry’s gaze fell but the boy nodded. Severus took out his glasses and offered them. “If by the winter holiday you still don’t want to be at Hogwarts, we’ll look into a transfer. Until then, there is the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin next week and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw match two weeks after, of which your friends are more than eager to drag you to.”

Harry made a face though his glasses did little to hide the amusement that now danced in those brilliantly green eyes. “Cedric has been bouncing off the walls in excitement over next week’s match; you would think he was playing in it.”

Severus wasn’t surprised by that. He got to his feet. “Most Quidditch enthusiasts get like that. I distinctly remember seeing your father nearly combust from excitement before every game long before that man became Seeker.”

Harry grinned at that, scrambling to his feet. “Aren’t you so glad I’m not like my dad?” Harry teased, taking Severus’s hand.

Severus chuckled. “In that aspect, yes. I would have long since expired had I been forced to suffer through Quidditch season if you had become as much of a fanatic as your father had been.” Severus’s gaze landed on Sirius as they got within the man’s hearing range. “It would have only fed Sirius into greater bouts of mischief and we both know how well that goes over.”

Sirius puffed up at that, feigning offense even as his curiosity was prominent in his expression. “I will have you know my bouts of mischief are for the sake of everyone’s livelihood. If I wasn’t around, the house would be like a library between you and Remus.”

Severus rolled his eyes as Remus commented, “Sounds like heaven to me.”

“Hey!” Sirius cried as Harry laughed. Playing the wounded card, Sirius knelt at Remus’s side and held onto Remus’s arm. “Would you truly kick me to the doghouse, Remus?”

Remus, amused, patted Sirius’s hands. “Only for the Quidditch season.”

“But Quidditch!”

Harry’s laughter didn’t die down until after lunch. Though the ‘woe is me’ acting had started it, Sirius had been quick to move on to jokes - predominantly puns - and funny memories to keep the jovial mood high. Severus didn’t need confirmation to know why Sirius was putting in the effort and Harry either didn’t notice or appreciated it without commenting on it.

They did more window shopping than actual shopping. Severus didn’t recognize the memo book Harry had but he knew the boy had something of a list in it on what to get each of his friends. Just a glimpse over the page showed a few names still held blanks while others had whole pages dedicated to them as he worked on narrowing down his ideas. By the end of the day, Harry had an idea for each of his friends though only a few were purchased. If anything, he thought Sirius’s purchase was the most outlandish thing to happen during their outing.

Harry did too when it turned out to be a gift for him.

“Can’t we go with an older model?” Harry asked, hands tucked as deep into his pockets as the boy could manage, his gaze flicking between the Nimbus Two Thousand on display and Sirius who had a fond expression on his face.

“You’re not going to let me spoil you?” Sirius asked, though it was clearly rhetorical as he rubbed Harry’s hat against the top of the boy’s head. Harry immediately batted away Sirius’s hand to pull the hat off and fix how it sat on his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll put an order in for the latest Cleansweep, then.”

He did not, in fact, purchase the Cleansweep and Severus glowered at the man when Sirius handed him the order form for one Nimbus Two Thousand to notate where it should be sent. Sirius had the audacity to actually be embarrassed. “I would have bought it for the holiday but he’s gonna need his own broom for Quidditch. Really, I had already planned on making this purchase. I even know where the racing courses are that Harry can go fly at during school breaks.”

Severus smacked Sirius with the end of the quill. “Regardless of the fact that he is the reserve, if he doesn’t use it, you cannot get upset with him.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. It’s his to do with what he wants, even if all that is is to leave it in his trunk until he gets home.”

The broom arrived the following Wednesday, which had been sooner than Severus had expected.

He let Harry unwrap it on Saturday, catching the boy just before the Gryffindor/Slytherin match. Harry had been hesitant about the gift for a whole two seconds before the boy let go of his worries and accepted the gift for what it was. He made Harry leave it on the couch, though; there was no need to draw attention to the expensive broom quiet yet.

No, that would come when Harry took to the field for the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match.

Not that anyone had been expecting Harry to play. Severus had gone to bed the night before the second match of the year expecting to wake up, eat breakfast, and discretely read a book as he sat in those cold stands. Instead, he woke up and had managed to be dressed enough to be presentable before the painted young man entered the landscape painting that hung on the wall opposite the bedroom door.

“Severus.” He drew back from the dresser enough to meet the painting’s gaze. “Pomona Sprout is at the door.”

Concern surged forward, eager to sink its teeth in him, but he ignored it as he closed the dresser. “Is Harry with her?”

“No. She also offered that it wasn’t anything dire.”

He raised an eyebrow at the painted figure as they walked into the painting in the living room. It would seem he was not alone in his disbelief of that statement. “Thank you,” he offered in lieu of some response before unlocking and opening the door.

Sure enough, Pomona was standing just beyond the reach of the painting looking as if she had just come to visit. Despite having schooled his expression, his eyebrow rose again. “Good morning. Something I can help you with, Pomona?”

“Good morning, Severus,” she offered briskly, though not unkindly. “May I come in? It won’t be a long discussion.”

He would hope not; they were expected in the Great Hall for breakfast in the next half hour. Stepping aside, he bade her enter and asked, “Would you like tea?”

“Yes please.”

She sat herself on the couch before the fire but didn’t fill the silence as he brewed her some tea and himself a cup of coffee.

The china clattered softly as he set it down, an undertone to her soft, “Thank you,” before she picked the cup up and took a long drink. He sat down in one of the armchairs, realizing she looked far more tired than he had first noticed. Her entire demeanor was relaxed, though, so whatever had caused the exhaustion wasn’t stress inducing.

She finally broke the silence when she had nearly finished her tea. “Harry will be playing as Seeker today.”

Surprise flickered across his face. “Is Mr. Diggory alright?”

“Oh, he’s fine now, but Poppy says he needs a day of rest after the night he had. I was woken at four-something this morning by Travis who found Cedric in the bathroom. Poor boy had been dealing with vomiting and diarrhea all night and was a right mess when he was finally found. Poppy initially thought it was a bout of food poisoning but, according to his friends, he hadn’t had much of an appetite all day yesterday and had seemed sluggish more than a simple late night should account for. Regardless if it was some flu or otherwise, most of the symptoms have stopped and he’s sleeping soundly in the Hospital Wing.”

A hard frown pulled across Severus’s expression. “Are the dorm restrooms not spelled to alert you of such things?”

She let out a sharp sigh and he got a glimpse of where part of her exhaustion stemmed from. “They are, but they are contingent on the student being willing, unless their life was in danger and, fortunate or not, Cedric hadn’t reached that point yet. While it’s not necessarily a rare occurrence for students to put up privacy wards, it’s enough that the safety measures do not activate unless a life is in danger. Some of the older students are used to eating something bad and knowing a single moment of being sick will fix the problem and don’t want to bother me or others, especially in my House, for whatever reasons-” He knew she knew the reasons; they both did, almost too intimately in a few cases- “so I’ve never felt the need to change it.”

“Until today.”

What composure she had left faded as she sank fully into the couch, her exhaustion on full display. “Cedric is a good boy but he doesn’t want people to fret about him. And you don’t think much of it when they’re a good kid who’s not overdoing it or the like but this…” Her expression tightened. “Hopefully Poppy will be able to tell if this is something I need to be concerned about with him. I get some kids don’t like being sick and being fretted about at the same time doesn’t help but this should never have to happen. We have a Hospital Wing for such things; why else would we have it?”

Severus put his empty mug down on the coffee table as the sounds of the lit fireplace filled the silence that followed. There was a reason he didn’t care much for children and it wasn’t because they were bad or obnoxious - not that they couldn’t be - or the like. He didn’t care for children because they were always so complex. Their minds would come up with rules and reasons that, to an adult, never seemed to make sense and it was always so infuriating when it caused issues like these. His House had its fair few that were like young Cedric, but in a way that was concerning. Nothing he could write to any child protective services about, unfortunately, but enough that he kept a closer eye on them. Those like young Mr. Malfoy - arrogant before they had lived long enough to properly be so, cocky and entitled - they had no problems seeking him out or the other adults when they’re not feeling good, some even going as far as to exploit it. But those that hid, did their best to not be a bother…

There was a reason why he had reimplemented those very same safety spells in both the restrooms and the dorms of his own House, willingness of the student be damned.

“Hopefully Mr. Diggory will be amicable to a conversation and this will be the only incident.” He met Pomona’s gaze and pretended to not understand the emotions she held there. “But it may be beneficial to reiterate to the students that if they are sick, going to the Hospital Wing is best, even if it seems silly or bothersome.”

Pomona nodded. “I will.” She stood. “Thank you for tea, Severus, but it might be best if I left you to it, as we will both be expected at breakfast.”

Severus stood with her. “I’ll walk you to the door.” It wasn’t until he was closing his door that he remembered something. “Pomona.” When she paused and met his gaze, he continued, “Did Harry ever tell you about the broom his Godfather gifted him?”

It took a second before a soft smile tugged at her lips. “Not from Harry himself but Sirius was kind enough to send a missive about it. Quite the extravagant gift.”

He nearly rolled his eyes. “Quite. While there are no rules about the brooms that can be used on the field, I take it you have no problem with him using his new broom if he so chooses?”

That soft smile grew into a beaming one. “We both know that the broom does not make the player, Severus. If he should choose to fly with it, then he shall fly with it. And I dare say it wouldn’t matter the broom; every team is going to have a challenge facing off against him with how well he flies. If he ever joins the team properly, Hufflepuff will win the Cup for sure.”

He had no doubt about that.

Despite the conversation with Pomona, Severus had been tempted to check in on Harry at breakfast but the boy seemed at peace with the whole matter, if not rightfully nervous. At minimum, the boy was eating so Severus let him be.

It did leave him to wonder after how - and when - Harry was told. Had Harry been awake at that hour, or awoken to be told? Or had they waited until he had woken for breakfast to tell him? Had they told him the full story or just that he was filling in as Seeker? It was frivolous fretting to be sure but he couldn’t quite be bothered to stop it until he was crossing the grounds to the stadium.

He paused at the changing room the Hufflepuffs were using and asked the bright eyed Keeper that greeted him if he could see Harry for a moment. Harry stepped out, equally bright eyed but a bit more anxious in the Hufflepuff Quidditch uniform. Severus directed the boy around the corner so they had a bit more privacy. “Are you flying on your new broom?” he asked, keeping his voice low despite the privacy allotted them.

Harry nodded, immediately relaxing. He matched Severus’s volume as he said, “Sebastian said it was my choice but everyone’s been eager to have me play on it since I got it and since I’ve been practicing on it, it seemed weird to fly on a different broom just because I’m filling in during a game.”

“Will your glasses be alright? Do you want me to spell them to keep the weather out?”

The weather in question was a brisk, sunny day with a scattering of clouds on the horizon and nary a breeze stronger than a sigh. The most he would be keeping out would be the wind caused from flying around.

Harry shook his head no. “They’ve been fine in practice and I haven’t been going slow there.”

“Ok.” Severus dropped his hand onto Harry’s head. “Remember: the final score doesn’t truly matter and as long as you’re having fun, that is all your guardians care about.”

Harry beamed at him. “I know, but thank you. I’m actually really excited - well, and also nervous - but mostly excited to be Seeker in a real game. I really do hope Cedric feels better soon but if it was going to be anyone on the team, I’m glad it was him that got sick and not one of the others. Except maybe Vanny. I would have been ok with Keeper but Seeker is easiest.”

Severus chuckled and carded his hand through Harry’s hair. “Fly well out there and good luck.”

Harry grinned. “Thank you, Severus,” he said before hurried off to rejoin his team.

When the team kicked off, Harry shot straight up, staying even with his teammates until the quaffle was in play. Severus was unsurprised when the boy settled well above the game and just hovered there, searching. Even if he hadn’t been present for trainings, Harry had been more than happy to regale Sirius about the different plans per each position Harry was learning. The Seeker was indeed the easiest position. Harry’s place was to be above the action with his only goal to be catching the snitch without getting hit by a bludger. Keeper was a similar goal, though it meant intercepting a quaffle rather than a snitch.

Still, each time Harry started actually circling the field it drew Severus’s gaze. When Hufflepuff made its first goal, Harry brought his broom up short so that it was nearly vertical and did a clean three-sixty before leveling back out, not losing any altitude in the quick maneuver. Severus was curious to know if any of the students had been impressed by it or understood the control required for such a move. Both Remus and Sirius had been thoroughly impressed when Harry had managed to execute the maneuver flawlessly on Sirius’s old broom after many practiced attempts. Severus had certainly been impressed when he had been shown the maneuver when his schedule had allowed him to visit home shortly thereafter.

The sports commentator giving the play-by-play certainly was impressed as that was all the commentator focused on for a good thirty seconds before Minerva yelled at him to focus back on the game.

Twice Harry dove into the game but just as Harry would reach top speed, he would pull off his trajectory and the speed would quickly dissipate as he returned to his former position. The Ravenclaw Seeker was holding position under the game and matching Harry pace for pace. Even the false calls on Harry’s part had the Ravenclaw Seeker darting after in an attempt to reach whatever they hadn’t noticed first. But where Harry’s hovering and circling had a calm, controlled air about it, the Ravenclaw Seeker seemed more ill at ease, barely coming to a complete stop for more than a few seconds before circling again.

It quickly became apparent that the game was not going to be a short one as the score came to 40-70, Ravenclaw’s lead, as the Hufflepuff Captain made another goal and the snitch still had yet to be seen a half hour in. Severus contemplated pulling out the reading material in an inner pocket but the thought of missing Harry actually seeing the snitch left a bitter tang in his mouth.

It was as the Hufflepuff Keeper successfully blocked an attempt by Ravenclaw that he felt it.

No matter the type of spell - be it ‘light’ or ‘dark’ - the innate magic of the world fluctuates in response, especially when the spell is meant to pull on innate magic. Spells that predominantly use core magic will exponentially affect the innate magic in relation to the power of the spell, be it because the innate magic is supplementing what the core magic cannot sustain upon command or simply by the ripples caused by core magic being stirred into action. Severus wasn’t as in tune with the fluttering of innate magic as Madam Gold - or even Remus, who was nowhere near her level but still impressively perceptive - but he had learned that close proximity definitely helped.

For half a second, he presumed one of the professors next to him was simply recasting a warming charm or similar minor thing, but then the innate magic rolled from the very precise but constant flow of magic of a spell that either required a lengthy cast, or was meant to link caster and target.

A sudden motion above the game immediately drew his gaze and he watched as Harry’s broom jerked this way and that, as if it were trying to buck the boy off.

His mind had no trouble giving him a list of spells that could cause such things, and it even narrowed it down to three knowing how the innate magic was reacting to the spell. The only problem was that he knew only one countercurse that would work against all three and it wasn’t very effective, though that may be more due to his lack of skill with it than the spell itself. Still, he didn’t hesitate to throw himself into casting it, relegated to muttering the lengthy incantation as he used the other caster’s magical link as a point of guidance for his own spell.

The magic around the broom was unrelenting under his own but he was managing to find nooks and crannies he could slip his spell into and take a greater hold. The broom gave a horrible buck sending Harry over the front of the broom. Vaguely Severus could hear a number of people scream. Thankfully, Harry had a solid grip the buck hadn’t broken and Severus slipped his magic in around Harry’s hands to offer some help as the boy readjusted his grip. Doing so meant sapping magic from his initial intent and as soon as Harry was situated hanging from underneath, Severus shoved his magic back into the fray, trying desperately to get under the foreign magic to keep the broom steady for Harry.

That did not stop the original caster from sending the broom higher and higher any time any of the other players tried to get closer. The game had come to a grinding halt and more than half of the Hufflepuff team was circling under Harry far enough away to keep from encouraging the broom higher. If Harry fell, there was a good chance he would be caught but-

Someone roughly shook his shoulder, breaking his concentration. Their shouting was garbled sounds in his brain before snapping into clarity. Somehow, his robes were on fire. Bewildered and confused, Severus also realized the opportunity afforded him and he quickly stoop, whipping from the bench and slamming into every soul that was within reach as he got the end of his robe underfoot and snuffed.

The disruption in the innate magic dissipated.

He turned his gaze skyward anyway, watching as Harry remounted and slowly joined his teammates. The Hufflepuffs looked like a swarm of bees as they checked Harry over, making sure the smallest of their team was ok before they returned to their places. Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded, the game picked right back up, and not even fifteen seconds in, Harry barreled towards one of the Ravenclaw Beaters. The Beater swung at Harry more due to reflex than ill intent, forcing Harry to roll onto his side to miss getting hit. Harry drew his broom up short behind the Ravenclaw, who in turn turned and started yelling at him, only for Harry to spit out the snitch into his hand.

Hufflepuff ends the game as the victors with the final score being 190-70.

“I was so annoyed,” Harry said emphatically, a grin on his face despite the heated tone of his voice. “I would have been fine missing the snitch all together but no. My shout in reaction just had to be perfectly timed to catch the snitch in my mouth.” Tanner, already in a fit of giggles from how comedic Harry had made his retelling, promptly fell off the couch. “It was horrifying!” was probably meant to sound offended but Tanner’s laughter was apparently catching as the exclamation was peppered with laughter.

“Did he really catch it in his mouth?” Remus asked, looking to Severus.

He nodded, lifting the last of his coffee to his lips. He could still remember the look of disgust that had crossed Harry’s face as the boy wiped saliva off the magical ball before raising it high over his head, completely oblivious to the Ravenclaw still yelling at him. The shock and then realization that had quickly crossed the Ravenclaw’s face had been rather satisfying. “As unbelievable as it sounds, he did indeed. Much in the same matter as he had shared it.”

“I’m assuming the broom bucking wasn’t quite as minimal of a thing as he’s made it out to be, though.”

Severus sighed and moved to the kitchen sink. “No. Someone was actively forcing it to do that.”

“Did you ever find out who it was?”

“Not definitively.”

Oh, he had tried. Those weeks leading up to winter break had been full of speculation and assumptions but beyond trying to get Quirrell to divulge anything that would give him even a scrap to work with, he had nothing to show for it. Even if he was right and Quirrell had been the one to spell Harry’s broom, he couldn’t prove it and that was probably the most frustrating thing of all.

Remus’s hands slipped the still soap covered mug from his hands and took over washing it. Severus stretched out the tension from his fingers from where he had been gripping the mug far harder than he needed to. “Thank you,” he muttered, knowing there would be no use in arguing with the other that he was fine or he could wash it himself.

“You did well protecting him as you could,” Remus said, touching on the thoughts Severus hadn’t shared.

He scoffed at it. “I could have handled the situation better.”

Remus tipped his head to the side in acknowledgment of the statement. “He didn’t get seriously hurt so what you did was enough. You’ve learned from it, I’m sure, so there’s nothing to hold over your own head about it. Accept the win and let go of the rest.”

Severus snorted. “Alright, Sirius.”

Remus flicked water at him, chuckling as well. “If you’re going to be snarky about it, go see if those two have buried themselves in packaging and toys and leave me to the dishes.”

Severus rolled his eyes in good humor as he walked away. He couldn’t deny Remus’s words, though. He had indeed learned from the experience - though it was more of remembering after the fact an even better countercurse and seven other ways to deal with the situation as a whole - but more than anything, he had learned that Harry was far more perceptive about magic than any of them had known.

Severus sat down on the couch farthest from the duo now on the floor in front of the loveseat doing something with one of the gifts that had been opened that morning. From the looks of the mess, it was the car track set Tanner had been gifted. Harry’s head came up long enough to grin at him.

It had been a brief moment, a thing in passing as bodies were moving about in the chaos immediately following Hufflepuff’s win. Severus had found himself near the Hufflepuff changing room with Minerva and Pomona where quite the crowd had amassed. Harry, bracketed by his friends of several Houses and most of the Quidditch team, purposefully squeezed between the professors and managed to not only give Severus a quick hug in the guise of slipping around him but also muttered a quick, “Thank you,” before he was swept along with his peers. It had taken a few days before Severus managed to ask Harry about it and gained the simple response of, “You helped to keep me from falling off my broom.” In the end, Severus concluded that close proximity had borne familiarity and while a normal person in a similar situation would have probably only felt the magic at most, Harry’s seeming ease at being able to discern Severus’s magical signature out of said magic was something else entirely.

“You have another letter, Harry,” Remus announced, entering the living room with dry hands and the aforementioned letter in hand. Harry popped up and darted through the mess of track the pair had been weaving all over - and in cases like the table, through - the furniture without disturbing a single piece. He took the letter with a quick thank you and opened it without a second thought.

“It’s from Hermione! The books arrived while they were getting ready for their trip.” Harry started back through the mess to his original spot.

Tanner’s head came up at that, as eager to hear the news as Harry was. “Has she started reading them, yet?”

Harry nodded. “She’s finished Dealing with Dragons and was about halfway through Searching for Dragons when she wrote this. She said she wanted to have something more to say about them than a simple thank you.” Harry grinned. “She says she’s been loving them and is very happy I sent her the entire series. She absolutely loves Cimerone.”

“I’m glad. They’re such good books.” Tanner sat back tapping a piece of track against the coffee table. “So that’s everyone, then? Hermione was the last one you were waiting to hear back from?”

“Yep! She also sends well wishes and says hi.”

“Hi Hermione!”

The other letters had held similar jovial tones, much to Harry’s delight. Severus had been surprised when one of those letters had come from Draco Malfoy, though he wasn’t surprised when it turned out to be nothing more than a formal thank you and well wishes for the holidays. Harry had still been happy about it, stating that the letter didn’t matter so much as what young Malfoy had sent in return. It had taken Severus a short minute to realize the beautifully colored peacock in an equally beautiful garden was from one of Harry’s coloring books. Severus wondered if Lucius even knew his Heir had such talents; the sketchbook and pencil set certainly made more sense, now.

Which, was on par for a lot of the gifts Harry had given out. Not all of them had been slated to be received during the holiday break. The football they had bought during their trip to Godric’s Hollow had apparently been for Hannah Abbott who had been ecstatic to receive it the day they had returned to Hogwarts at the end of that annual trip. Severus had caught sight of the pair kicking the ball around on the grounds and in the courtyard when homework and the weather permitted.

In addition to the sketchbook and pencil that had been intended for young Malfoy, Harry had also gotten a small dotted paper notebook with pen loop and a Rubix cube that same trip, the latter two given to the Weasley twins just before break. Severus had been tempted to confiscate the Rubix cube when the one twin it had been given to started messing with it in his class but someone had been smart and silenced the toy beforehand and Severus could not denounce how effective it was at keeping the one twin calm for the entirety of the period.

The nonmagical variant of succulent that had gone to Neville Longbottom had been gifted to the Gryffindor early December when Severus had gotten the chance to leave the school for a few hours to go purchase it in Harry’s stead. The First Year’s glee at receiving a plant had Severus mentioning it to Pomona; there was no harm in encouraging a student interested in botany to pursue Herbology.

The Quidditch memorabilia - sent to Ron Weasley - had been ordered to arrive on December 25th when the youngest Weasley boy would be celebrating Christmas.

The snake shed quill case that had been Harry’s gift for Blaise Zabini had been made by a craftsman friend of Ribeiro’s who used shed from Ribeiro’s own snakes. Severus hadn’t been sure about such a gift for one of his Slytherins but according to the letter Harry had received yesterday about it, young Zabini had absolutely loved it, going as far as to learn about the different snakes whose sheds had been used. Sirius had told him the previous night that he had received a letter from young Zabini’s mother with a bit of coin saying that such a gift was much too expensive for a mere 11-year-old to purchase on an allowance and to pay the artisans behind the craftsmanship (it had all been written in good humor, as it was apparent she knew it had been hand crafted and she wanted to encourage the amazing work done on the case as well as help the beautiful creatures whose sheds had been used).

Even the gift Harry had given Tanner had been enthusiastically received. Where the other gifts had been purchased, the only thing Harry had purchased for Tanner had been the thread Harry had painstakingly weaved and knotted together. The final result was a narrow band roughly five feet long and inch or so wide of reds, yellows, greens, and white. Harry had figured out how to make a floral pattern in the narrow band and had dotted the entire length with yellow flowers and green leaves along a gentle wave of the darker green vine. The red was predominantly used as the border but there was the scattered few red flowers among the yellow. It had been a gift a long time in the making, one that Severus hadn’t realized Harry had kept up on throughout the school year until the boy had offered it to Tanner neatly wrapped in paper with a massive bow on it. Even now, the band was being used as a headband, the long strands left over tucked up through their ponytail to hand along the top part of their hair. The tails of the band were longer than their hair but only by a few inches. In a few months, the tails and their hair would be the same length.

Severus wondered if the handmade band had been a response gift to the bracelet wrapped around Harry’s wrist, the very bracelet that had indeed remained in Harry’s room of Severus’s quarters until the end of term.

[ArtisticVicu]

Demon Parade

Prompts:
Demon Parade
Image Prompt:
https://64.media.tumblr.com/275e6e8e96780d2ebe25cb72d88bb82b/tumblr_pup9z2pInk1txvmwyo4_r1_1280.jpg ('https://nkim-illustrates.tumblr.com/post/186311423009/more-of-team-blue-toast-and-minho')
this was a suggested prompt; image was provided by another

Chatter filled the streets as bodies ebbed and flowed from establishment to establishment, the majority of the crowd joyous and content. Oh, there were those who were not - he could spot them as easily as someone wearing an outlandish color in a sea of gray - but they were few and far between, isolated individuals compared to the masses, be they truly isolated or not.

“Lively night.” The voice was amused as it drifted from the body walking at his side, an echo of his own thoughts. He glanced at his companion, curious. Kelnt was known for having a strange view of the world but where many would whisper about how strange the other’s ideas were, he liked the unique perspective. It kept him on his toes, kept his mind flexible. He received a grin for his glance. “A good night. Don’t you think, Green Bean?”

He chuckled, though it was mostly due to the nickname rather than Kelnt’s words. “This city is always lively. Certainly nothing different than last night, nor the night before, nor the night before that.”

“Ah, but see, that’s where you’d be wrong.” Kelnt wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close. The well toned body flexed against his arm under the layers of clothing they were both wearing. “Tonight is a good night for much more than the mundane. Can you guess why that is?”

He shifted the arm pinned between them, the holster of Kelnt’s weapon pressing almost painfully into his forearm as he did so. With a final, awkward tug, his arm came free behind them and he gripped at Kelnt’s shoulder. “Are you sure you want me to guess? You seem eager to point out what I am too green to notice.”

Laughter bubbled out of Kelnt high and full, a joyous, almost childlike sound that joined the symphony of the city streets. “You’re learning quick! Good.” Kelnt grinned at him again. “Guess.”

He turned his gaze back to the world around him, trusting his companion to not run him into a stranger or a stationary object. The city looked the same as it always did on their patrols. The patrons of the different establishments were in good spirits, those that were not were barely a drop in the sea of content, and the city thrummed with the content of the crowd in the warm night of early spring. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the warmer temperatures, would it?” he guessed, turning his gaze back to Kelnt.

Kelnt grinned at him. “Possibly.” Without warning, Kelnt jerked him in a different direction. “Quick. This way.”

They cut through the crowd nearly colliding with others twice before Kelnt released him. He stumbled slightly as the alleyway swallowed them. It was more of a side street than an alleyway but no vehicle would make it through. Shops spilled into the narrow stretch between buildings, people walking through it as they would any other street looking for good food or other desired goods. The only difference between this side avenue and the street they had just vacated was the amount of people wandering through. He counted two dozen right off the bat but nearly half of that were the workers of the establishments. Kelnt shot him a grin before starting down the alleyway as if it was familiar ground he had walked a million times before.

He fell into step beside Kelnt, waiting. He did a lot of waiting with his companion but being patient had served him well in the past with Kelnt and he didn’t expect that this moment would prove past experiences wrong.

Kelnt's hand closed around his wrist, tugging him into the path of the fire escape. There were already folks scattered up the structure so when Kelnt started up the ladder, none of the workers nor pedestrians batted an eye at his companion. He followed suit as soon as there was space on the ladder.

Up they climbed, weaving across and up as they moved from stairs to landing to stairs again. Kelnt cleared the rim of the roof with a fluid arc over a well planted hand against the masonry. He used the ladder instead of trying to emulate his companion. When he made it to the roof, though, Kelnt wasn’t within the immediate vicinity. It took a moment before he caught sight of his companion meandering around the far side of the roof access. He hurried after Kelnt but the moment he dashed around the same corner, an arm caught him across the top of his chest stopping his movement immediately.

Kelnt grinned at him, pressing a finger to that laugh filled grin with a wink. Kelnt removed the arm across his chest before grabbing at his wrist and leading the way. His companion’s movement was fluid, quiet, in a way that he had learned to imitate any time he saw it. This way and that they moved across the roof until they were on the next building, and the next. Soon they were streets away from where they had been at and he was starting to worry they were straying too far.

“Here,” Kelnt whispered, gesturing ahead. “Sit with your back against the wall.”

He ducked around Kelnt without glancing at his companion, settling against the wall about where Kelnt had gestured. Kelnt joined him, settling bodily against his side in the process. “Definitely was cutting it close. You should be able to see the first one…now.”

Movement drew his gaze towards the rooftops before them. For a moment, he didn’t understand what he was seeing until one stepped onto the roof directly before them.

The rooftops were dark but the streets below glowed bright enough to cast light on the figures he and Kelnt were watching move across the rooftops. The figures themselves seemed to not have arms as the fabric that draped from perceptible shoulders hid much even as it drifted in the air. Wide brim hats with squared crowns were underlit by the streets below which did nothing to bring more details to the figures’ faces. It wasn’t until a second one passed close enough that he suspected that was partly due to masks. The figures were lightly stepping but their strides were so wide, it was like they were lightly leaping from point to point without effort.

Kelnt tapped his knee before discreetly pointing. He followed the gesture with his eyes and found him gaze landing on a figure that was different from the others. For one, the top article of clothing the figure was wearing was longer than the others and tailed. Additionally, there was something on the figure’s back. No, not something.

“Is that a cat?” he asked in the softest whisper he could manage, hand coming up as if it would help keep the sound between the two of them.

“Possibly,” Kelnt responded equally quiet. He could hear the grin in his companion’s words. “That is the Grand Marshall. Well, not the possibly-cat, but the person the possibly-cat is on the back of.”

“Grand Marshall?” he parroted. “Like, for a parade?”

Kelnt leaned forward allowing him to see the grin at the edge of his vision. “Exactly. What you are glimpsing is the Demon Parade. Something that normals don’t get to see.”

He frowned, finally turning his gaze away from the Grand Marshall lightly leaping across the main street with the rest of the figures. “Kelnt.” He gained a sidelong glance that held an expectation that worried him. “What do you mean by ‘normals’?”

Kelnt smiled but it wasn’t the same as previous grins before. This one seemed far more human - far more genuine - than anything he had seen in a long time. “Care to guess?”

[ArtisticVicu]

Somewhere Unfamiliar

Prompts:
Somewhere Unfamiliar
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EtkfhZ-UUAIRQNx?format=jpg&name=4096x4096 ('https://twitter.com/vonnabeee/status/1358151489701572608/photo/2')
this was a suggested prompt; image was provided by another

There was always talk that Magic could only be wielded by those touched by Unvera, the God of Worlds. Those touched by Arevyn, the Goddess of Life, could not handle Magic.

She hated that men were Unverante - those touched by Unvera - and women were Arevynuos - those touched by Arevyn. She hated that it was predetermined by gender and not by proof. She had proof and no one believed her.

No matter how loud she got, the Magi always ignored her when she said she was Unverante. They would laugh and throw her out, calling for her head to be checked. No one, not a single Magi, would work with her even when she tried to show them her proof.

So she learned on her own. Magic became her teacher and she would sneak into the Archives to learn what Magic couldn’t teach.

It did not take long for others to take notice of her skill. Long hair was common among Magi leaving only her body for her to hide and the Magi garb hid a lot. The only problem was that she had to hand make hers; it made her stand out even more than her skills. The reputation of the Magic Haired Magi preceded her and soon she was being asked to do greater and more complex jobs from more powerful clients.

When the Highest - the top of the Magi - started turning their gazes to her, she knew she risked everything by continuing to work with Magic and yet she couldn’t stop what she was doing.

The courtyard was packed when she entered the trap. The staff in her hand innately glowed with Magic so there was nothing she could do about that. They took it as a threat anyway.

She opened her eyes to find herself somewhere unfamiliar. Water stretched in every direction and lapped at the ankles of her boots. A soft wind pulled at her hair the same color as the sky above, the same exact color people associated with Magic. She made a slow rotation, looking for anything other than the endless water. Nothing broke the horizon so she coaxed the Magic from her staff to fill the space beneath her boots and with her first step, she started walking on water.

The blue Magic in her staff drifted around her hands before it started drifting towards the right.

She followed the makeshift compass point for a long time. The magic beneath her boots silenced her footfall but the soft wind danced around her, filling the empty world with rolling clouds, and allowing her mind to wander.

The land masses probably hadn’t simply appeared on the horizon but when her attention was suddenly pulled back to her surroundings, they were dark on either side from the mass rising out of the water far too close.

A skeleton larger than a mountain pulled itself out of the water yet it passed through the surface without a single ripple and no water clinging to the bones.

“Ah, what a disappointment,” rolled around her as if the voice was coming from everywhere at once. “Humanity should have treated you better, my child.”

A soft smile brightened her expression. “You could always send me back, Blessed Unvera.”

Unvera’s laughter curled around her, comforting and reassuring.

[ArtisticVicu]

At least I'm still here
Nearly two days without sleep, Soren finds himself alone not far from the small family he had just helped stay alive - not once, but twice, now. The entire ordeal has left him with questions and the only one who could have answers would be the deity that had lent him her powers all those years ago. Hopefully he didn't do anything stupid in his exhausted state.

“Ahmed!” Soren stilled on the balcony as his attention moved to the level above him. He recognized the voice as one of the women from the bazaar that had thanked him profusely for bringing Ahmed home. Her hurried footfall came to a stop not far off behind Soren; if he glanced over his left shoulder, he’d be able to make out her face. “How is your husband doing?”

“He is doing well,” Ahmed said, joy and relief thick in the man’s voice. “As is the babe.”

“So they both made it through the birth? I heard from Mariam that there had been a moment where something had gone wrong.”

“Nothing that the Goddess of Life couldn’t handle.” The sound of rubbing fabric informed Soren that the habitual gesture of reverence for the Goddess had been made by both people even as Ahmed kept talking. “From her sending through Soren, my husband and our child are both still in this world. Had he not given life to Dabir when he had, I am certain I would be mourning my husband instead of speaking with you. What would have come of our child is known only by the fates that had woven the path of his death but I fear I would have lost our child within moments of Dabir’s passing.”

The pair moved away, beckoned by the midwife’s voice from within Dabir’s room. Soren settled against the stone wall of the balcony, back to the now vacant terrace above him as he turned his attention to the hints of the city he could see between the buildings. How was it that the last forty-eight hours felt longer than the entire time he had been away from home?

He buried a hand into his hair, fingers wrapping around strands to hold himself in place. He knew why. Beyond making sure Ahmed had made it home safe, he had been Ahmed’s last hope in making sure Dabir survived child birth. Soren wasn’t Hilde, wasn’t proficient in any sort of medicine, but he had magic and the ability to heal some and that apparently had been enough. He had feared at the time that it hadn’t been, that Ahmed’s faith in his ability to help was misplaced, but it had worked. Dabir had made it through, blessing the couple with a baby girl the couple had cried over once the danger had passed.

He hadn’t been able to rest since pushing thirty-six hours without sleep from everything combined.

His thoughts churned of home and his family, of “what had been” and “could be”s, leaving him raw and numb all at once. The image of the newborn child being placed on Dabir’s chest with the couple huddled around the wailing form crying from the fear and relief was burned into his mind. He couldn’t shake how it made his chest ache nor how it pressed in on him as his mind warped the image. It was quick to replace Dabir with Hilde and Ahmed with Garlock but no matter how greatly he desired to be included, to be there if - and when - a child was born to the three of them.

A bitterness filled his chest but he resolved himself against it. He could not fault Hilde and Garlock for ever wanting kids and his absence would not become an excuse for them to deny themselves a larger family if that was what they wanted. Gods knew he had never considered it before now. He was content with their small family and felt no desire to make it bigger. But, then, what had changed? He had been there for Fannel’s second and had thought nothing of it. Now, though, farther from his family than ever, he couldn’t get the thoughts to stop. Endless speculations around a child - or two, or more - spun around his head until he felt nauseous with it.

He jerked away from the wall, the rough texture scratching at his forearms as he did so, as a thought assaulted him. The top of the wall dug into his palms enough to be noticeably uncomfortable but he barely realized he had even grabbed the top of the wall. He stared at some in between space as his mind filled with him in Dabir’s place, a child on his own chest with Garlock and Hilde at his side and he wasn’t sure if it was hope or dread that cut through him.

It could wait and he knew it should but the desire to rid himself of the image, to hear that he was wrong and that his mind had just gotten away from him had him digging out Shar’s sigil. The wooded token was a familiar weight in his palm when he pulled it out of his bag. It was rubbed smooth and stained from the years of handling and battle since Garlock had carved it for him but her sigil was still striking against the grain and it still worked. For a moment, he clenched it, struck by the sudden want for her to not answer his call, but then he forced his hand loose around it and sent it lazily twirling between his fingers with the mild doubt she would even have the answers he sought.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Ready for home already?” Shar’s voice curled around him, a tease as it danced on the wind between them. From one moment to the next, the space behind him became occupied by a form only he could see if he cared to look. She came to a stop somewhere to his left on the small balcony and he wondered distractedly if she would have molded her form to be his height. “Not that I’m overly surprised to find you eager to return, what with all that has happened. More disappointed at your lack of tact for your hosts.”

The chuckle came out as a huff, amused but strained. “That little faith in me?”

She gave him a skeptical look when he finally looked at her. “I know how you are, Soren. Or are you denying that your thoughts are currently focused on home?”

He chuckled properly this time. “Not denying that,” he assured her, “but, no. I did not call for you to take me home. I’m not done here yet as I’m sure you are well aware.”

“Then why did you call for me?”

He settled his back against the balcony wall, gaze going to what he could see of Dabir’s room. There wasn’t much in the way of sound coming from it but the windows and doorway were still illuminated. Idly the wooden token moved between his fingers in a slow twirl. “Probably off of a misguided desire for answers but I didn’t want to stew in my thoughts if I didn’t have to.”

The distance between them diminished as she came to stand at the wall herself. “Then ask. It’s certainly not going to get you anywhere prattling on as you are without asking.”

Somewhere on the street a story below them someone laughed. Other voices quickly chased the sound to fill the din of the moment it took Soren to get his mouth working again. “I know very little about the genie who gave birth to me,” he found himself stating, starting at a point he was certain was irrelevant to her but soothed the part of him that didn’t want to hear the answer. “Dad rarely talked about them and I’m not sure he even remembered them well enough to answer my questions once I started asking. But the one thing I do know is that when Dad fell in love, it had been with a genie of a male form who changed to a female form because they wanted to have me.” Voices increased on the level above them but he couldn’t quite piece out if it was coming from Dabir’s room or beyond it. It took a moment for him to regain his train of thought. Gods he was tired. He didn’t want to face this. “Dabir…” He lost where that thought had been going. “I know I’m not like Dabir or any others that are like him, but I am able to go between male and female at will as the genie had. Does that…” He pulled in a breath trying to steady himself. It didn’t work. “Does that mean I can get pregnant?”

“As you are now? Probably not.”

He rolled his eyes, grateful that part of it was out of amusement. “Female, though?” he clarified, his tone remaining neutral.

Shar’s expression closed off out of the corner of his eye and Soren knew it was a warning to watch where he tread. “Having children will not get you out of my service, Soren.”

Had he not already been leaning against the balcony wall, he would have had to scramble for it. He closed his eyes against…was it anguish? or relief? or sorrow that bore down on his chest. “So that’s a yes, then,” slipped off his tongue. A joyless smile pulled his lips from his teeth as he added with heavy sarcasm, “Great.”

“Soren,” she started but he waved whatever it had been off.

“I’m not planning on getting pregnant, Shar,” he assured her, that bitterness in his chest filling his words. He tried to regain some control and failed. He wondered if it was the exhaustion loosening his tongue or the culmination of the last few days. “I wanted to know so that I could avoid getting pregnant. I’m in no place and have no right having children of my own when my life is so interwoven with your whim.”

Shar’s form bristled and Soren felt the wall leave his back. Without thinking he had put his weight back onto his feet, ready for an attack he was confident wasn’t coming. Shar retorted, “Do not put the blame on me. It was your choice to accept our deal as is your choice to have children or not.”

The sigil bit into the inside of his fingers as he gripped at it. Indignation shot through his chest and he met her gaze with what most likely came across as a glare. “Don’t put words into my mouth, Shar. You know as well as I do that I take full responsibility for my stupidity and anything I’ve chosen to do out of it. It was my choice to accept your offer of power and aid all those years ago as it was my choice to accept the consequences of my actions. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to feel cheated by the current circumstances every once in a while.”

“Then change the circumstances if you’re so unhappy.”

It was a challenge, a trap, but it slipped right through every emotion pressing down on him and snapped what control he had left. He let out a short bark of a laugh, the grin that pulled across his face far too sharp to be amused. “Change them? And risk what I have now? As shitty as it’s been being away from home for the majority of the year with only a month at a time with my family - if I’m lucky - I’d much rather that than risk never seeing them again simply because I think this is all bullshit!”

The breath he sucked in had to be warm but it felt like ice in his throat, tearing at it much the same the lump in his throat was. “Just because I changed and found a better path to walk that wasn’t chasing after vengeance and shadows doesn’t change the fact that I accepted your help in the first place. It is your right to uphold me to our original agreement, as it is your right to take the payment you see fit for such a favor and I don’t have any right to challenge it when you’ve already being kinder with me than you would have others.”

The edges of his vision blurred with tears but he blinked, suppressing them for just a bit longer. The action, though, quelled more than just tears. A numbness shot through his system calming him down and he didn’t have it in him to fight it, to hold onto the indignation that had driven his rant. “No. It doesn’t matter how much of a normal life I want now or will miss out on - no matter how much of any child’s life I’ll miss out on if we ever decide to have kids - at least I’m still here. At least I still get to be with them even if it's only for a moment every year. I'm not risking that for the small iota of a chance that it could be better.”

For a long moment, Shar simply studied his face. He wasn’t sure what had changed or what she had been waiting for but she blinked and it was like that long moment hadn’t happened. She stepped closer, cupping his cheek with a fond little smile. He didn’t miss the tightness in her expression that gave warning ahead of sharp words. “You foolish mortal. And what if I told you my wife has two souls waiting for you. Would you finally stand up for yourself and finally confront me?”

“Two souls,” he parroted dumbly. He swallowed, recentering himself as best he could when the world felt like it would fall away at the next shift of air. “Two children. Through Hilde.”

Shar rolled her eyes. “You are ridiculously dense at the most inopportune moments, you know that?” She jabbed him in the gut with a finger, spitting as if it were a threat, “Two souls for you to bring into this world. Two souls destined to be given life by you through your very body.”

The world really did fall away - or maybe that was just the strength being suddenly leached from his legs - and he threw an arm over the balcony wall to stay upright.

There should have been thoughts racing through his head. There should have been noise or at the very least a mantra of panic but all he found as he leaned over the top of the wall was the image of Dabir and Ahmed with their newly born child shortly after birth. All he could seem to get to form in his head was “two, two kids” over and over, and it did nothing for him to get himself reoriented. Abruptly he looked to her, “Garlock’s?” tumbling off his tongue at her long before his brain caught up.

She rolled her eyes again but this time he caught the humor in the expression. “Unless you’re planning on doing something stupid.”

He shook his head in response as his legs took back his weight. He couldn’t really feel them but they held. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping at the strands as if it would be anchor enough to keep him from spiraling even more. “Two kids,” he repeated as if saying it again would be enough to get his mind around it. “With Garlock.”

It did the opposite. Instead, he found despair clawing at his chest, a grief he hadn’t been expecting joining the mix as he met her gaze. She was standing before him at her full height, expression closed off to him. “Well?” she challenged. “I’m giving you a chance to have a say in your circumstances, consequence free. What are you willing to live with to have the life you want, Soren? How would you change your circumstances?”

His mouth was dry but hope was a powerful force shoving words over his lips. At first they were stilted but the more he spoke, the stronger and more sure his voice became. “I would…I would have to talk with Garlock and Hilde about the specifics but…” The breath was steady in his chest. “When the first child is born, you can’t call on me for ten years. For ten years you let me and my family raise that child and any others that may follow. Once that ten years has passed, for every decade we are raising our children you get a year of my time. Whether that’s a year all at once or spread out over the ten years in month increments, it doesn’t matter to me, but if you don’t choose to do the full year at once, nothing can take me away from home for longer than a month every six months. Once the youngest turns 20, you can take me away as often as you like but I get to be home for three months minimum at least twice a year.”

An incredulous look filled Shar’s expression. “That’s all?”

He shrugged. “That is what I’m starting with but not what I’m settling on. I still want to speak with Hilde and Garlock but it seems reasonable enough. It gives me time to be with my family, to raise one I never thought I would get.” A wistful little smile tugged at his lips. “Even before the homestead was ransacked, I had never thought of having my own family. My siblings and the families they would make and their children I would have helped with had been enough.” That little smile fell into a neutral expression. “I want the chance to live the life I had believed was out of reach. I want the chance to live the life I glimpsed through Ahmed and Dabir. But that doesn’t mean I hate what you’ve been asking of me. To be your blade has never been a hesitation and I will gladly continue. I only ask that you allow me my family and the chance to rest with them in turn.”

The wind curled around them as his words came to an end. His heart pounded in his chest and he knew if he wasn’t careful, the hope would kill him far more swiftly as any consequence she sent his way. Time moved on around them yet neither of them moved or spoke. Again, she was the one to break the stillness. She stepped up to him, reshaping her form so that they were the same height before she cupped his cheek again. “I will see you in two days, Soren. Do try and get some rest.” She took a step back, a smirk accompanying the mischievous glint in her eye. “And depending on how much trouble you get into, I might actually consider giving you a real chance to change your circumstances.”

She was gone in a flurry of feathers before he could respond. The wooden token was pinned to his chest, the edges of it digging into the inside of his fingers and palm from how tightly he was holding on. He closed his eyes against the urge to cry.

“Soren.” Ahmed’s voice was searching and gave no sign that the other had witnessed anything. Soren opened his eyes and tucked the wooden token back into his bag as if he hadn’t just been through the emotional ringer. Ahmed beamed at him, quickly crossing the balcony to grab hold of Soren’s wrists. “Good. You are still here. Come. Dabir and I wanted you present for the naming.”

“Ahmen,” Soren started but Ahmed waved him off, grinning from ear to ear.

“None of that. And do not worry. Both Dabir and I have come to the conclusion that if we used your name, you would not have taken that as the honor it was. So you will be present instead.”

Soren couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped his chest. He was certain there were going to be a lot of things over the next two days that were going to be in his honor that were more than he deserved but as long as Ahmed and Dabir were involved, he trusted the couple to not overdo it at least.

Two more days before he had to decide whether or not he was going to start the conversation about children with Hilde and Garlock.

Two more days before he returned home.

[ArtisticVicu]

Wayward Souls at Halftrot Inn

Many grand adventures begin in a tavern or inn, or some place where unlikely paths cross and companions are found.

The Halftrot Inn is one such place, filled with an eclectic assortment of guests and staff that make any wayward soul's stay pleasant. Or, at least, it should be. This time, though, the Halftrot Inn finds itself tangled in the adventuring that usually stopped at its doors. Two of its guests go missing and while it's not hard to figure out how or why, it is left to a ragtag company of smaller companies to not only find but rescue the two missing guests without risking the lives of those that help them along the way.

Halftrot Inn was never truly still no matter what time it was. Granted, three o’clock in the morning was far quieter than three in the afternoon but there was always someone at the front desk doing something and at least two other staff members working somewhere on the property.

Niko loved those early morning hours. Not because of the quiet - oh Gods, no; she lived for the noise and bustle of the day and the secrets and information that slipped through it - but because of the occasional body that wasn’t supposed to be up at those hours. It wasn’t very often someone bustled in from outside too early in the morning to be considered normal - or unconcerning - and it was even less common for someone to leave, but it happened. It always happened.

The clock had just chimed the quarter hour past four when the front door opened. She stilled her hand, pen lifted from the page to not blot the ledger. Two individuals entered before the door was shut with some care, soft chatter drifting between them. Niko placed the pen off to the side and offered the pair a welcoming smile. “Welcome to the Halftron Inn. What can I do for you?”

The shorter of the two stepped forward, lowering their hood with a smile. White fur dominated the stranger’s features, though red tabby fur covered the top of the head and feline ears. The tabby patch created a sharp white point between the ears high on the stranger’s head and cut crisply down to the temples only to become a soft curve towards the back. The fur around the throat starting under the chin and continuing down into the collar of the stranger’s attire was semi-long and spilled out around the stranger’s neck like a fluffy scarf. “Good morning. Do you happen to have any rooms available that can fit three?”

Niko fished out another book. Something seemed oddly familiar about the feline stranger. Most of her attention was on gleaning as much detail of the pair as she could while she went through the motions of checking the strangers in, rattling off the current options and answering their assortment of questions. The taller of the pair never pushed back their hood so if there had been any hints to why the feline was familiar, it wasn’t going to be found with the hooded one.

No, her clue came when Tavey Folt, the Halftrot Inn’s resident dragonborn came around the corner from the stables and staff quarters corridor with arms laden with a few saddle bags and escorting an aviary. More specifically a kenku - named Kenku, apparently, if she hadn’t misinterpreted the hooded figure’s wording - and the realization dawned on her. Her gaze returned to the feline as she kept the realization to herself.

Without seeing what lay hidden beneath clothing, the feline looked exactly like the cat from her dreams; specifically, the less than normal dreams she had been having for the past few weeks.

She refused to entertain the idea that those specific dreams were visions. Stuff like that was made up hogwash to scam people with. She had seen it plenty of times on the streets of people pawned out of coin by a fake fortune or vision of the future. Intuition and instinct were only marginally believable. Niko wasn’t unfamiliar with instinct; it drove even the kindest of souls to kill when cornered just as it drove breath into lungs without thought. Intuition was something else. Intuition was being able to tell when a trap was more than a harmless joke, or when there were no obvious reason to actually distrust the shopkeep yet the drive to leave without looking back can’t be ignored. Intuition was narrowly avoiding getting picked up by people looking to earn a good bit of cash in the Underground Market because a different path home was taken on a whim. Niko was familiar with those things but even then she was certain it was more coincidence than actual forces at work.

And yet she was hesitant to simply label the dreams as nothing more than weird, repeating dreams. Whether that was because of something like instinct urging her not to or if it was some sort of logical conclusion she had unconsciously come to, Niko simply knew when to pay attention and when to brush a dream off.

If the not-dreams had been actual visions of the future, of possibilities, maybe it would have been easier for her to accept something like Futuresight being the cause and a legitimate thing. But no. The not-dreams were cryptic imagery that never really made sense until some missing bit of information was brought to her attention, oftentimes in the form of whoever was involved. On top of that, they were usually far and few between; the last one had been a single not-dream with no repeats two years prior and it had ended a three year streak of no not-dreams.

Her dreams - regardless if they were normal or not - were always complex with a touch of bizarre but they never left her feeling off kilter and never grew more vivid if they did repeat on the rare occasion; and no repeat was ever a true reiteration of the original. The not-dreams never changed no matter how many times they repeated. They would start out fuzzy and hard to remember but with each repeat, the not-dreams became clearer and clearer as if the images were imprinting themselves into her memory. Each time she woke from one, she was left feeling out of place for a long while and it only got worse as the not-dreams grew clearer.

Even now as she exchanged a room key for the hooded figure’s coin, the not-dream was filling her head so clearly, it almost obscured her sight.

The not-dream had been simple enough: a white cat with red tabby markings on its head and down part of its back was carrying a little black bird by the scruff of the neck as if it was a kitten. The red furred, long-haired tail was held straight and high as the cat trotted on three legs along the sandy shores of some body of water; the cat’s right leg was missing at the knee yet it walked as if it still existed. The little black bird was curled as a kitten would have been but instead of simply hanging from the cat’s mouth, the little black bird was curled around a tiny humanoid figure and seemed quite content with doing so. The tiny humanoid was chest to chest with the little black bird and hung limp so that lanky limbs dangled past the little black bird’s body and swayed with the motions of the cat’s walk.

Where the cat and little black bird looked forward and quite content, the humanoid looked back, chin resting on what counted as the little black bird’s shoulder with a tired gaze locked onto the mass of shadows that kept pace not far behind the cat. A thin strip of shadow stretched from the mass along the ground at the cat’s feet only to behave in a way that she had never seen shadow behave.

Near the cat’s front paws, the strip of shadow stretched up from the sand and was firmly wrapped around the humanoid’s right wrist. She could never figure out if the shadow held on like a hand or a manacle but the hold always looked unbreakable.

When she first had the not-dream, there had been the vague impression of a cat carrying something that wasn’t a kitten around like a kitten and it had bugged her for a good hour or two. She didn’t even notice the humanoid until about the time both cat and little black bird had become distinct against the sandy beach. It wasn’t until the most recent repeat that she had been able to see the mass of shadows. It had taken that same repeat for her to notice that the cat was well aware of something following it.

As the trio left, she wondered after the hooded figure. Were they the humanoid from the not-dream? She was rather tempted to assume they were but she knew things weren’t always as clear cut as she first assumed.

Not that the current not-dream on her mind was a good example of it. It seemed pretty straight forward to her. The humanoid was being followed, and knew it, but was doing nothing to keep the little black bird and the cat out of it. Though that probably wasn’t from a lack of trying; the little black bird had been wrapped around the humanoid and the cat had been carrying them both. But the fact that the cat was the only other one to be blatantly aware of what haunted the humanoid’s trail seemed weird. Surely the little black bird knew what was after them.

Or was it being sheltered from it?

The only answer Niko got in the days that followed was that, yes, the hooded figure had indeed been the humanoid in the not-dream. The trio had booked their room for a week and on their first day of stay, quickly showed their worth by entertaining the dining room for a good many hours. The feline - a tabaxi named Talley Oaken - was no bard but played the hurdy-gurdy as well as any bard Niko had met, though the instrument itself was new to Niko. The music ranged from energetic and uplifting to morrose and drawn out but it was all greeted with applause from those in the dining room.

Kenku was something different entirely. Niko had heard rumors that kenku only spoke in mimicry but she had never met one before to learn if that was true or not. It had sounded as if it would be a very limiting thing. Oh, how Kenku proved her wrong.

Kenku and the hooded figure - a moon elf that went by Ravis that refused to give his full name after Talley had confirmed ‘Ravis’ was only a nickname - had joined Talley on the little stage in the corner of the dining room that first performance. Ravis had looked rather uncomfortable up there and had merely patted out a beat on the inn’s spare drum. It was clear he had never learned to properly play but he was good enough to keep a steady beat. Kenku, as a stark contrast, seemed quite content being up on stage with Talley and happily stood at her side as she settled center stage. The first song started with Talley’s first few notes and then Kenku opened its beak.

The entire place was shocked when the notes of a church organ became accompaniment to the hurdy-gurdy, the consistent beat of a drum tolling just underneath. Neither Talley nor Ravis reacted to the sound so it was apparent the trio had done this before but to have someone vocalize the exact sounds of a church organ - including multiple notes overlapping - was disarming. Her Pa informed her the second night that the sounds of the organ weren’t exactly perfect seeing as he himself could tell it was only mimicry long before he had entered the room but Kenku was good enough to fool the masses and even some of those who had better ears than most.

Niko was not surprised to find her Gramp and Gran speaking with Talley and Ravis the third day of the trio’s stay as she arrived at the front desk for her shift. Of the words she caught, her Gramp and Gran were finalizing a short term contract with the trio that included a discount to room and food if they continued to entertain as well as pay. It was the standard stuff; she had walked bards through the same exact contract when they inquired about work for room and board. They even catered a similar contract to those looking for other work; extra hands in the stables, kitchen, and housekeeping were always welcomed.

On the fifth day of the trio’s stay, the front doors swung open to familiar faces. With only a few hours before midnight, she and her Gramp were going over the books for the shift exchange. Her Gramp looked up and immediately greeted the familiar faces by name as he made his way out from behind the front desk. “Terrel Lambrax! Good to see you, old friend! Good to see you in good health, Emrynth.”

“Kole, my friend!” Terrel called out, grinning broadly. “It has been too long!” The pair hugged, a mildly amusing sight seeing as her dwarven Gramp was almost half the height of the human he was hugging. Neither seemed to notice or care about the height difference as they roughly hugged each other before her Gramp turned to Emrynth.

Emrynth gave her Gramp a genial smile as their hug was much more sedated. “How are June and the twins?”

“June’s still the same spitfire I fell in love with all those years ago,” her Gramp assured. “Brax and Kelsca are taking care of their families as Stormshields do. Brax is still looking to taking over once me and Junebug retire.”

“That’s good to hear!” Terrel said. “Brax around now? I have some goods he might be interested in.”

“He should be in the kitchen.”

Terrel nodded and left for the kitchen through the dining room. Her Gramp turned to Emrynth and returned to business, asking, “How many rooms are you looking to use and for how long?” The front door opened again. “Is it just the two with you this time?”

At least two other bodies entered behind the small cluster at the door but Emrynth and the two others standing with her blocked Niko’s view.

Emrynth glanced back in surprise before smiling. “Not quite. We have two others as part of our company but they went with your stable staff to help with the carts and animals.” Emrynth turned to properly look at one of the new arrivals. “Are you still looking to continue on with us?”

“It will solely depend on how long your business takes and the weather fairs,” someone said. The voice was kind, cordial, but there was a crispness to them that edged the words in contempt.

Someone else added with a grin on their words, “We can manage our own rooms, though. No need to include us in your plans.”

Her Gramp cut in before Emrynth could comment. “Let’s get started with checking you all in. There will be plenty of time to debate who is paying for who and for how long as we wait for your other two.” Her Gramp returned to the front desk, focusing on her for a moment. “I’ve got this one, Niko, if you want to go check in with your father and Terrel.”

Niko shook her head. “I’ll stay in case we have any other guests come in.”

She didn’t realize she had erred until she caught how his lips pressed thin for the briefest of moments. He had been dismissing her but, for whatever reason, he wasn’t going to force her. She wasn’t sure why he wanted her to leave but she knew better than to look as if she was trying to eavesdrop.

She grabbed the bank ledger with the intent of doing work she would have normally saved for later in her shift but when she glanced over the group one last time, it was immediately apparent she would not be able to focus on anything, let alone the conversation.

Two tieflings, one mere inches taller than the other, stepped around Emrynth’s two companions. The taller came into view first, blue skin the same dark, rich color of the blue velvet she had seen in the very expensive clothing shop in town. The taller’s horns reminded her of cow horns with their smooth texture and how they came to a sharp point but that was the extent of the resemblance. The horns came from the back of the tiefling’s head and curled forward, mimicking the curve of the back of the skull until straightening out at the top of the head and ending at the front of the face. The points were situated directly above the point of the tiefling’s eyebrow.

In contrast, the shorter tiefling had skin a pink Niko couldn’t exactly describe. It was as if someone had blended the purest pink with a pink a shade or two redder and the pigments only increased the pinkness of the color rather than the purest pink taking on the redder shade. It was startlingly bright without being the same startlingly bright as pale skin could be. On top of that, the shorter had two sets of horns compared to the taller’s single set. The larger of the sets started at either side of the shorter’s head and went back to corkscrew downwards twice. The set was ridged in a way that spoke of the same rings she had seen on the horns of rams. The smaller of the sets sat at the top of the shorter tiefling’s forehead probably at the hairline directly above the center of the eyes.

Beyond those two major differences, the two could have easily passed as siblings. They both had the same thick, curly black hair that filled the space between skull and horns like clouds being lazily contained. Their eyes were similar in shape and black sclera but the shades of their irises were a touch different; the taller had irises that could have easily been a combination of blue, green, and gray where the shorter had irises of a more silver blue. Still, close enough to pass as siblings.

As soon as the shorter tiefling had stepped into view after the taller, a not-dream rushed her. Strangely enough, it was the only one that had never really given her any details.

The figure in the not-dream never became more than a form made of shadow but she was always left with the impression that the shadow figure was rather dapper. The not-dream always started with the dapper shadow figure finishing crafting what looked to be an oddly rounded glowing cup with a jewel or precious stone set into one of the faces. The dapper shadow figure would admire the handiwork, turning it this way and that and viewing it from different angles only to be startled upon finding a red string tied to the glowing cup. The red string was striking in the dark environment and against the dapper shadow figure’s form but that never seemed to be what the dapper shadow figure cared about. No, the dapper shadow figure would always tug on the string as if the string would come free with a good yank but it never did. When it became clear it was not coming off, the dapper shadow figure would start to follow the red string, protectively cradling the cup close to the chest. The cup, ever glowing and now floating, would hover just above the dapper shadow figure’s palm as the dapper shadow figure’s curled fingers kept the glowing cup from floating away.

The red string always led to a very detailed pile of random things, from a fishing rod, a half finished shirt, and well worn shoes to a pile of candies and rocks, a feather, poppy flower, and the massive shell of some sort of turtle. To her, it looked like a pile of odds and ends with no real purpose - a pile of knick knacks at best, rubbish at most - but the red string led into the pile and the dapper shadow figure would move things out of the way to follow it deep into the pile. The red string always led to a band of metal that could have been a ring or a bracelet. In one of the faces was the same stone as the glowing cup had embedded in one face. Unlike the glowing cup, the band of metal wasn’t glowing.

The not-dream always ended as the dapper shadow figure picked the band of metal up. There was no expression for her to see but she was left with the impression that the dapper shadow figure didn’t quite know what to do with the new discovery. Beyond that, she had never really understood the significance around the two objects and the red string connecting them. Even now as she came face to face with the two tieflings for a brief moment she wasn’t sure she understood it any better but she had learned something upon seeing them.

For whatever reason, those objects represented the two before her and somehow they were connected.

Or had been connected.

A second not-dream waited until her thoughts slowed their tumbling over the first not-dream but the time between the two was far less than she cared for.

All she had done was habitually glance over the gathered persons at the front desk. The two tieflings and Emrynth were right at the edge, both tieflings leaning against it while Emrynth remained standing tall. The two that had entered with Emrynth were still near the door as if to give those at the front desk some space. A third person, though, was standing within reaching distance of the two tieflings like a shadow. She had seen the person trail behind the tieflings as they had first approached the front desk but what she had missed was the small shield on the person’s left forearm that was now predominantly on display at the person’s chest where their arms were crossed.

It had never dawned on her to connect two not-dreams until she had seen the person’s shield. The second not-dream had been of an indistinct figure steadily trudging through a thigh high substance; the only discernible detail had been the shield on the left forearm. As the figure trudged on, each hand held onto a rope that led to a gem larger than the shield floating along behind the figure. The gem at the end of the rope in the figure’s right hand was softly glowing while the gem at the end of the rope in the figure’s left wasn’t. Beyond that, the gems looked identical in cut and color as if made from the same material. There was nothing to say why only one glowed and the other didn’t.

With the two not-dreams now very vivid in her mind, she now understood what that second not-dream had been implying. The person behind the two tieflings was the only reason those two tieflings were even interacting. She still didn’t understand the significance of the cup and band of metal but she knew that the tieflings had been represented not by the objects but by the stones embedded in them. And, for whatever reason, the person standing behind them was willing to keep them together even through whatever it was the person was trudging through.

Though not knowing why one stone was glowing and one was not made her nervous.

The person behind the tieflings met her gaze a moment before her Gramp placed a hand on her shoulder, startling her. His touch pulled her gaze from the person and she was left to suppress a shudder. She felt oddly cold. “Niko? Are you feeling ok, sweetheart?”

She nodded; the motion brought her attention to the headache blooming at the center of her skull. “Yeah, I’m ok, Gramp. Must have let my thoughts wander too far.”

Again she caught the thinning of his lips. He was letting it be as she said despite not believing her and it left her almost as uncomfortable as when he had been disappointed that she hadn’t recognized the dismissal for what it had been. Still, he surprised her with a gentle, “Alright, then. I’ll be here for another hour yet so don’t feel like you’re stuck here.”

She knew it wasn’t what he had wanted to say - his eyebrows hadn’t let up their furrow - but it seemed enough to soothe some of the worry out of the lines on his aged face and he turned back to his discussion with Emrynth and the two tieflings. The conversation was coming to a close as Emrynth and the taller tiefling were taking their respective keys from her Gramp when chatter drifted from the staff corridor that led to the stables. Niko immediately recognized one of the voices and straightened, the barely touched bank ledger abandoned and forgotten.

Her Pa stepped around the corner accompanied by Tavey and two strangers. Tavey was bringing up the rear carrying quite a few bags. Her Pa was carrying a similar amount while the remaining strangers had a bag each.

Niko was not prepared for the third not-dream to overtake her. Whether it was from the force of the third not-dream shoving itself at her or from it being the third consecutive not-dream in less than an hour, Niko faltered under the onslaught and was swallowed by the sharp details of the most potent of the not-dreams she had been having once again.

A storm raged against the town yet neither the Halftrot Inn nor the buildings of the town shuddered under its force. Niko stood in the middle of the abandoned round where the main east-west road terminated at the middle of the main north-south road being battered relentlessly by the storm. She couldn’t fill her lungs with enough air. The rain was coming down so hard, every inhale was watery, yet every exhale seemed to only give the wind more opportunity to pull even more air from her lungs. She tried to move towards the safety of the Halftrot Inn but when she turned towards home, she found herself down some alleyway she knew she should have recognized. Yet when she turned to try and walk it, she was back at the center of the round with her back to City Hall facing the east-west road cutting through the town ahead of her.

Each time she tried to go home, she found herself someplace in town that should have been familiar but wasn’t. Over and over she tried until she couldn’t even remember where home was. Was it to the right, or the left?

Or was it dead ahead?

The first step forward didn’t throw her into some random part of town and she felt like weeping. She moved to sprint down the road before her eager to be out of the storm but something slammed into the back of her neck and cut into the tops of her shoulders, snapping her face down towards the mud.

Her face hit wood instead and her blood ran cold as it felt like every hair on her body stood on end. She shoved herself upright but there seemed to be no strength in her arms and it took far too much effort to even manage to get to her knees and elbows.

A massive chain was haphazardly draped beneath her hanging from something around her neck. Her arm took her full weight with ease, though she couldn’t remember getting from her elbows to her hands, and she tugged at a thick, heavy metal collar that was too tight around her neck. She made to scream but she couldn’t get her voice to work.

She stumbled upright suddenly finding strength back in her limps and she tried to get away from the length of chain. It snapped taut when she stood straight.

There was nowhere for her to go.

She tried screaming again. Her voice was there - she could feel it - but the wind and rain was in her face again stealing her breath and her scream. It wasn’t fair. In a fit of anger, she grabbed at the chain and started yanking against it with all her might. She would get free even if she had to do it on her own.

She didn’t realize the storm had stopped until something fluttered past the left side of her vision. She whipped her head around, gripping at the chain as if it would protect her.

A bird of a beautiful blue with wings and long, deeply forked tail edged in a faded black was laid out on its stomach far beyond her limited reach. It was impossible to tell if the bird was injured or not but a part of her was saying it didn’t matter. What mattered was the danger they were both in and she had to get to it before something else did. She tried reaching for it anyway, struggling against the chain that bound her in place. A startled scream escaped her as the chain yanked her towards the ground seeming to shrink of its own accord. Stuck now on her knees, she looked back towards the bird.

Every hair on her body stood on end as it felt like tiny pinpricks raced across her spine and the back of her skull. Two humanoids with weapons in hand were approaching the bird. They reached down and grabbed the bird by a wing and pulled it up; the bird was easily half as tall as either humanoid. The two humanoids turned and started to drag the bird away. She screamed after them to let the bird go but she couldn’t get her throat to work. No matter how hard she tried to scream it was like she had no voice.

It wasn’t sound and it wasn’t movement that drew her gaze from the bird being taken away; it was the absence absence.

The storm was gone. The town was gone. She existed in an emptiness that was completely dark save for the ground she knelt on and the chain she still gripped tightly. The ground she was on was illuminated as if it had some sort of internal light source that was muted in a way that reminded her of sunlight through a bed sheet. The patch of illuminated ground was a rather good sized circle much like the round before City Hall.

A path of the same illuminated ground stretched towards where the bird was being dragged away but the path had faded out of existence barely paces from the circle she was at the center of. Three other illuminated paths came into existence, one at each remaining cardinal direction. The one opposite of the faded path now behind her ended at a point a good distance from the edge of the circle and a pale humanoid with shadows clinging to its body stood at the center of the path, a cat missing part of its back right leg standing on the humanoid’s shoulders.

At the center of the path to her right stood a figure with a rope in each hand that was as short as the chain Niko was still clinging to. At the end of each rope was a gem of identical cut and color with the bottom most edge dragging in the dirt. Only the gem hanging from the figure’s right hand glowed. A shield on the figure’s left forearm reflected the glow of the path beneath the figure’s feet.

At the center of the path to her left stood a creature that looked like a deer but was not any kind of deer she had ever seen. For one, the creature was much larger and for another, the antlers didn’t look right. There was a bend to them that curved the overall shape inward more than what she was used to seeing. Caught in the center of the antlers floating about the creature’s head was a ball of fire, flames flickering off the top of it as if someone had put a campfire in a high rimmed bowl and made the bowl invisible. The fire spluttered as the creature lowered its head as if to bow to her.

The humanoid before her stepped forward first but the creature to her left and the figure to her right matched it pase for pase before all of them came to a stop at the boundary of the circle she was in. The humanoid raised its right hand, the figure its left, and both presented her with a familiar looking blue feather. The fire in the creature’s antlers sparked and popped before spitting a feather skyward undamaged from being within the flames. Somehow the feather stayed aloft over the flickering flames.

She didn’t remember getting to her feet, let alone having any slack, so when she turned to look towards where the bird had been, when she took a step with that motion, the jerk of the chain shrinking startled her. She immediately turned back around and gripped at the chain with both hands but it didn’t shrink anymore. There was no slack now but she wasn’t being forced to her knees.

The feathers had yet to be lowered.

Her hands tightened on the chain. If she told them, there was the chance the chain would yank her to her knees. But she couldn’t go after the bird; that was certain to pin her to the ground with no chain to even sit up with. She didn’t want to be chained down like that; she feared what would happen if she ever was.

Turning her body so that it faced the figure with the gems, she pointed towards where the bird’s path had been as she painfully gripped the chain with her other hand. The chain started to shrink but her gesture seemed to break whatever spell had kept the others out of the circle. In an instant the circle was invaded and the chain was shattered by one of them - the flurry of movement around her made it impossible for her to track who it had been - before they all took off down the path that was no longer illuminated.

The weight of the collar was still heavy around her neck.

“Niko.” It was her Pa’s voice, low and gentle as it always was, but she could hear the note of worry in it. His massive hand stroked the side of her head and she wondered if that was the first time he had done it or the fifth. “Come on, little one. Back awake. You can do it.”

It took a good few seconds for her to get her eyes open and a good few more for her brain to make sense of what she was seeing. As soon as the amorphous blobs of color and light became shapes and people, she immediately knew where she was and what had happened.

The splitting headache was downright excessive.

“Pa,” she said. Or tried to say, as the simple word caught in her throat as a croak and she made a face at its lack of form. She swallowed and tried again. “I’m ok, Pa.” Her voice wavered but the words were actual words and not just half formed sounds. “I’m alright now.”

Relief quickly filled her Pa’s face and it pulled a gentle smile to his ever gentle expression. “As you say, but I think it best if you are in bed for the night.”

“I can work around a headache, Pa,” she tried to reason but he was already scooping her into his massive arms. She didn’t fight him as the motion exasperated her headache.

“You can,” he agreed, “but there is no need for you to. One night resting will not cause harm to the inn.”

“You say that,” a very familiar voice said, drawing both her and her Pa’s attention towards the dining room. Her Da was jogging over already nearly to their sides when he spoke again. “And yet you’ve seen what she’s capable of when left to her own devices at the hand of boredom.”

Her Pa chuckled, a rolling rumble she felt in her bones tucked against his chest as she was. “I will take blame should she do such things. More, though, is my faith that sleep is much more desired. Headache tonics are best when they bring sleep with the relief.”

Her Da met her gaze immediately. “You have a headache?” His hands - smaller than her Pa’s but still large in their own right and still properly bigger than her own - cupped her face before slipping into her hair carefully searching for tenderness. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”

“If she is hurt somewhere, it won’t be on her head.” The taller tiefling offered a half smile as everyone’s attention fell onto them. “I managed to at least catch her head before it hit the floor but I can’t say the same thing for the rest of her. I figured a bruised wrist would have been preferred over a head injury.”

Her Da nodded. “Thank you.”

It was a complete statement but the tiefling still grinned and happily offered, “Swift.”

To Niko, it seemed like an odd sort of response, but her Da understood and gave a nod. “Thank you, Swift. You have our gratitude.” Her Da’s hands left her head and she fought down the urge to grab after them, to keep them close. Her Da turned his attention to her Pa. “Get her to bed; I’ll help make sure things get squared away as you do.”

Her Pa bent down and pressed a kiss into her Da’s head, muttering something in Orcish that was too garbled for her to understand. Her Da responded in kind; despite his words being a touch clearer, it still sounded like garbled Orcish to her ears.

Her Pa was quiet as he carried her down the staff corridor. Before she knew it she was being placed on her bed and tucked in tight. Her Pa stroked her hair as he said, “I will retrieve the tonic and return. Remain resting until then.”

“I will, Pa. Promise.”

He kissed her forehead, one that lingered for a good moment before he stepped out and closed her door behind him.

Despite past habits, she had no desire to move from under the covers. The headache had been agitated by every small movement her Pa and Da had made with her and not moving brought blessed relief she knew would only be aided by the tonic her Pa was fetching.

On top of that, her mind immediately returned to the not-dream she had just relived. She shuddered at having to relive it after the last time it had happened. It had wrecked her for an entire week and there was no telling how long it would haunt her now. She hadn’t needed to be told what it had meant in the end. It had been very clear with its message the first time the not-dream had invaded her sleep.

If she tried to go after the one captured, she would suffer the same fate, if not worse. Even pointing others in the right direction wouldn’t completely erase that possibility.

She shuddered again. The fact that it was an aarakocra at the center of it all was unsurprising. She knew too well that anything counted as exotic would gain a pretty coin in the Black Market and an aarakocra that wasn’t the standard variations of the region definitely counted as exotic.

So did kenku, now that she thought about it. There had never been a kenku in town and that in turn would mean that Kenku was just as likely to get snatched if not more so since people had actually seen Kenku performing on stage. It would only be a matter of when before someone made the first attempt. Hopefully the trio never truly separated and it would keep any attempts from succeeding.

She couldn’t remember where the little black bird that had represented Kenku had been in the not-dream. She was certain it hadn’t been with the humanoid and cat but that only left far too few other options.

Her Pa knocked gently on the door before entering, disrupting her thoughts for a moment. He smiled gently as he returned to her side. “I will assist in your taking of the tonic so be patient and do not rush movement.”

“Ok,” she said simply.

The headache had become a manageable thrum in her temples during her Pa’s absence but it flared anew when his hand slipped under her back and slowly propped her upright. The tonic was bitter on her tongue and tasted equally horrible. She grimaced at the taste. Her Pa exchanged the tonic vial for the glass of water on the bedside table. She greedily drank down the cool water to wash the aftertaste away.

“May you have good rest,” her Pa said softly once she was tucked back into bed. He kissed her forehead again. “Sleep well, little one.”

“Good night, Pa. Love you.”

“I love you as well.”

The door clicked shut behind him and she sank into the darkness of her room. For a brief moment she wondered after why she had collapsed. Whether it had been a toll on the body, the mind, or some outside factor she would probably never know but she knew one thing.

There was one last not-dream unexplained which meant there was one last person to meet before she was left with simply point the direction.

That person arrived two days later.

Well, two days wasn’t completely accurate. Though it was technically the second day, it was barely an hour into it when the front doors opened and two strangers entered the inn. Niko, back at the front desk as if nothing had happened, looked up from the papers she had been sorting. Both figures were heavily cloaked against the raging storm beyond the inn’s walls but still looked completely drenched. She smiled and welcomed the two warmly. “Welcome to the Halftron Inn. What can I do for you?”

The shorter of the two by almost a head stepped up to the front desk first, lowering the sodden hood with some care. “Do you have any rooms available? Two beds would be preferred but we can make do with whatever is available.”

“Sure, let me check. Would you prefer the first floor or second?”

“Depends,” the taller said, coming to stand behind the shorter’s left shoulder. “What do you have available?”

She had just flipped the ledger to the right page when the taller figure pushed a surprisingly less sodden hood back.

The last not-dream finally made sense.

It was a good thing she was quite used to going through the motions without needing all of her attention on what she was saying or doing because her thoughts were very much not on what she was doing. Her heart was thudding against her chest as she rolled the sudden information around in her head. The fact that the strange deer creature with the fire between its antlers had represented not one but two people she could get over but the onslaught of everything else was taking a hot second longer for her to accept.

The not-dream had been the simplest, most cryptic not-dream out of all of them; even the figure trudging through the thigh high substance had a clear message without the specifics.

The odd deer with the fire among the points of its antlers never moved in the not-dream. It stood stock still in the middle of a snowy forest whose canopy was ablaze. That was it. That was the not-dream; and until two days ago, she hadn’t really accounted for it being more than a really weird dream, it being a not-dream notwithstanding. When it became clear it was a not-dream, she had assumed it was about one person, that the weird fire deer would make sense once she met that strange someone. But no, the deer and the fire were completely different and the fact that the snow on the forest floor appeared unaffected by the fire raging in the canopy had indeed been significant.

Whoever these two were, one of them was set to burn everything in their path for a single goal, including burning themself out in the process. The one represented by the odd deer was untroubled by the other’s fervent nature. They stood steadfast under the flame and was the reason the flame was still managing to only burn what they intended to burn. She had no idea if the fire was literal or not but it made sense thinking back on it now that she knew the fire and the odd deer were two different people.

She waved after the pair as they started for the stairs towards the second floor. They fell into Dwarvish as they walked away but they kept their voices down so she couldn’t hear any of their words.

It seemed only time would tell which was which and just how literal that fire was.
The soil was hard beneath his thin shoes as if the rain that had drowned the world the day before hadn’t happened. Even the flash flood that had been brought on by the previous day’s torrential downpour had only left a veneer of clay mud clinging to the remnants of buildings and marked where the waterline had reached on the trees. The mud squelched beneath each step and clung incessantly to anything it touched. Those unfortunate enough to fall in it wore the mud like a second skin. It clung to his legs high on his thighs and plastered his pants awkwardly to his skin. Either the plaster-like clay itself was cold or it was making his pants increasingly damp and he hated it.

Laughter rang out from what remained of a building to his left and habitually he glanced over. If there had been a second floor, it had been obliterated right along with the rest of the town. Most of the walls were under half of their original height, the shortest points being on the street facing walls; only the back corner still retained the original wall height. There was an interior room still clearly marked by walls in that corner and lacked only the roof. The walls were not quite tall enough to hide who was scavenging within. He could make out the top of two heads and the face of a third. The third laughed again and he turned his gaze away. He had no intention of dealing with those three at all if he could help it.

It disgusted him how they and countless others found joy in the carnage around them. He had long since gotten used to the work but that didn’t mean the memories of his own homes being ransacked in an all too similar way didn’t curl through him like a venom slowly destroying anything good left within him. He had no doubt that he would one day feel that same satisfaction of a good raid if he stayed under their thumb and it only made his disgust grow even greater.

“Hey, Ilravis!”

It was easy to pull indifference across his expression as he turned his attention to the church just ahead of him. Somehow it hadn’t been destroyed beyond recognition, a rarity after a raid. Usually the only thing remaining of any building was the basement and a vague impression of the first floor’s layout.

Someone on the steps was waving at him and it felt like his blood had suddenly turned to ice.

“Come over here!”

Obediently - despite the shout not being a direct order - he changed his path to start for the church’s steps. The cluster of people on the front steps ebbed and flowed and chatted as he approached and he caught snippets of the last of the conversation as a few hurried off to pillage other remains. The one that had called for him grinned at him after a fashion, the lit torch in hand barely casting any light in the midday sun. “Hey, we’re about finished wrapping up here but none of my boys want to get their hands dirty robbing a church.” The grin grew sharper. “Do me a solid and go find the coffers. You make it out before the church burns down completely and I’ll put in a good word to my grandfather. What do you say?”

It was easy to keep his expression impassive, just as it was easy for him to give a single nod before entering. Giving a verbal response, though, was out of the question. Already the bands around his wrist were chafing. He didn’t need to add the magical effects to the reminder that he would never be one of them.

The door closed behind him with a resounding thud. The atrium was dark for the most part. The window to the left of the door was shattered while the rest of the windows were still tightly shuttered. The gales of laughter flowed in through the broken window and the vague sounds of some sort of conversation followed after it.

It was cooler, almost cold standing inside the atrium. Sunlight spilled into the chapel ahead of him filling it with beautiful light. He could make out the soft shade changes in the altar cloth from where he stood. The cloth had been deliberately dyed an ombre that faded from the softest of creams into the softest lilac he had ever seen. It would have been hard to make out if it wasn’t for the stream of sunlight on the altar coming through a paneless stained glass window. The rest of the chapel was speckled in multihued streams of light where the colored glass still held tight to its frame. It left the whole space looking ethereal in a bizarre, dreamlike way.

He stepped away from the door as shouts for others warned him that he wasn’t going to have much time.

The chapel was surprisingly warmer than the atrium but he guessed that had more to do with the broken windows than the structure itself. He could feel how cold the stone was through his thin shoes. Without pausing, he turned right just inside the chapel’s entrance and started for the part of the building that would have what he was looking for. The echoed sounds of shattering glass and splintering wood chased after him as he approached the door before him.

The handle turned and the door swung open without hindrance. He stepped through and quickly closed it. If they were going to try and bury him under burning rubble, he wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

The door had opened into a short, very dark hallway that turned left a handful of steps away. He had half expected a window on the right wall but a door was on the wall at the far end instead. Curious despite himself, he crossed to the door and opened it.

Light poured into the hallway as he found the window he had been expecting to see. It was undamaged and the glass had been tempered so that only light was visible through it. He was certain if someone stood directly on the other side he would see their shape and vague colors but that would have been it. He couldn’t even make out the side of the church through it. Beneath the window stretched a staircase that ran the length of the hallway he had just walked and emptied out somewhere beneath the chapel. There was light in the room beyond the bottom most step and that curiosity turned into a thoughtful caution.

He stepped into the stairwell pulling the door closed behind him. If someone was down there, he wasn’t keen on giving them an easy escape.

The steps were worn stone yet well shaped even after apparent years. They were well tended, too, for he found nothing gritting between his thin shoes and the stone. No dust from an irregularly used basement access and no residual from other people’s shoes. It baffled him. What did a church keep in the basement that required the stairs to be so well tended? Or was cleaning the basement stairs a sort of discipline? That wouldn’t surprise him, honestly. The monks had always found some corner of the monastery that hadn’t been cleaned yet to send a disciple to clean as punishment and training. He was certain even the most unused rooms of the monastery had been as clean as the rooms for worship.

The light turned out to be several torches dotting a room half as large as the chapel above it. Most of what he passed looked to be the expected storage - fabric and chairs, some tables, crates with decorations - but there were also three doors and a hallway off of the room that he could see.

He had turned away from the hallway when a sound drifted from it. He stilled, all of his attention on the hallway as he waited.

The sound of chimes echoed from the hallway again. It was faint, nearly imperceivable that he was certain no one moving around down here normally would have heard. He started after the sound as quietly as he could manage.

The hallway led towards the front of the church before turning right and following the front most line of the building. As he rounded the corner, he found a second set of stairs blocked off by a wrought iron gate. There was a built in lock and he could clearly see that the lock was engaged. He made a face. Picking locks was not his thing. Combat was. Whatever was beyond the gate was not worth his time.

The chimes stopped abruptly, giving way to a gruff, disgruntled voice muttering something rather quickly. He frowned at the bottom of the stairs. The hallway he had just passed through had been dark, the only light coming from the main room, and the stairwell was no different. Even the space at the bottom of the stairs was absent of light almost absolutely. If there was someone down there, they were either in the dark or only had enough light to illuminate whatever it was they were doing.

Coin clinking against coin drifted up the stairs to him, quickly followed by that same muttering. Exasperation rushed through him. Of course the riches were in the deepest, darkest part of the church. A sneer pulled at his expression. He wasn’t a bloody rogue and he sure as hell wasn’t some locksmith.

The mud around his knees cracked and flaked off as he knelt before the gate. At least he knew how to pick one. It certainly saved him from having to hunt for a key that he would probably never find. The lock gave way a good time later and the gate opened on noisy hinges. The noise from the darkness below stopped immediately. So much for the element of surprise.

With sure, soft feet, he hurried down the stairs, done with wasting time. The sub basement level was pitch black. Even with darkvision he could make out the wall to his left and a small patch of floor at the base of the stairs. Beyond that, there was nothing to see, no light of any kind to even give him vague shapes in the darkness. He kept his left hand brushing the wall as he stepped carefully forward. The space at the base of the stairs was small, barely three steps to the opposite wall, and he transferred his hand to this new wall and followed it back under the church towards the chapel.

He counted twelve steps before he realized he could see something in the darkness. It wasn’t much, barely the hint of light, but there was something there. Seven more steps brought him in line with whatever it was and it took his brain far too long to understand what he was staring at.

Tucked into a corner, curled up as tightly as it could be, was a creature. He wasn’t quite sure what it was exactly but he could make out a beak in the not so absolute darkness. The miniscule amount of light allowing him to see was coming from somewhere under the creature’s chin. It was most likely a covered item but whatever it was, the creature couldn’t see with it covered like he could. Not that he would call it seeing.

Moving forward caused sections of the creature to disappear. At first he thought it was a weird optical illusion from how little light there was to see by, but when his hand brushed against cold metal, the weird visual made sense; metal bars separated him and the creature.

Something in him snapped at the realization, something deep and something dangerous coming free. Something that had been drawn far too taut for far too long. Something he didn’t even want to try and push back down now that it was free.

The metal was cold against the palm of his hand as his fingers closed around the bar. He was about to do the stupidest thing in his life but there was no way he was going to walk away now. Not when all he could think of was the bands of metal chafing against his wrists.

“Hey,” he offered softly. The creature jumped, its beak snapping up and about as if searching for something it couldn’t see. He squatted to be more level with the creature’s head, his hand still clamped around the bar above his head. “Mind uncovering your light? It’s kind of hard to find the door in the dark.”

“What are you doing?” was barked at him. The voice was angry, gruff, but the words were a harsh whisper. It reminded him of a parent being pissed at a kid for interrupting something important from a different town several raids ago.

“I’m going to get you out,” he answered patiently.

The sound of the creature shifting drifted through the darkness to him. “I don’t trust you.” These words were hissed and sounded almost wrong, like it wasn’t the same voice saying it. No, certainly not. It was most likely the space warping the softer spoken words.

“You don’t have to but there are horrible people upstairs who are going to be burning the place down and, unless you want to die down here, I’d suggest you give me enough light to see by.”

He flinched when a sudden burst of light filled the room before he had finished his suggestion. It wasn’t an overly bright light once his eyes adjusted but it certainly had been compared to the absolute darkness he’d just been in. The source of light, to his surprise, was a rock; it was glowing not of its own light, but the light of a spell. Either someone had given the creature a glowing rock or the creature knew magic. The latter had him uneasy.

Now able to see clearly, his first impression of the creature had been rather accurate but it wasn’t an aarakocra like he had initially assumed. The creature was very much an avian but there were no wings and every single feather he could see was as black as ink. “You’re a kenku,” he found himself saying.

The kenku blinked at him, eyes lighting up as a soft, caring, “Kenku,” came from that black beak. This voice was different, gentle in a way the other two - he was certain now it had been two - hadn’t been. The kenku shuffled forward and reached up but whatever the avian had been trying to do was halted by a shackle clamped around the wrist. Disappointment - and what looked almost like fear - quickly crossed the kenku’s expression. Anger surely filled his.

He reached through the bars and easily touched the kenku’s wrist. The avian tried to jerk back out of fear but he was quicker. His hand closed around the forearm just above the shackle and he pulled so the chain was taut without hurting the kenku.

A noise escaped the kenku but he wasn’t paying close enough attention to name it. “Let go,” spilled from the kenku’s beak over and over in a tone that did not match the fear written plainly across the avian’s form. It was sharp, disgusted, and made him want to punch someone with enough force to kill them with a single blow.

He opened his mouth to reassure the kenku that it was alright-

Something came at his head from his right and he ducked. The bars of the kenku’s cell rang clearly as the staff slammed into them. He immediately let go of the kenku to quickly pin the staff against the cell bars with his quarterstaff, already turning to bring his foot up and kick at his assailant’s head.

An ashen faced human only stared in shock as their eyes met.

He pulled back on the kick, missing the clergy member by inches. He brought himself back to center as he glared at the intruder.

“What are you doing to Kenku?” the human demanded, their expression quickly turning determined. Apparently nearly being kicked in the face hadn’t deterred them in the slightest. “And what do you want with it?”

“I’m rescuing it,” he spat, “because clearly-” he gestured at the chain the kenku had a firm grip on- “it needs to be rescued.”

The clergy member narrowed their eyes. “And what will you do with Kenku if you make it out past the raiders?” The clergy member’s eyes landed pointedly on his bindings. “After all, Kenku is not the only one needing rescuing.”

He released the clergy member’s staff like he had been burned, tucking his quarterstaff away so that he could obscure the clergy member’s view of his wrists. “I’ll take the kenku somewhere safe and then keep moving to keep the raiders attention off of the kenku.”

The clergy member raised an eyebrow, amusement pulling at that ashen face. “I’m sure.” Even tone aside, it was clear the clergy member didn’t have any faith in his plan. “If I am able to help you properly escape with as much of a head start as I can, will you take Kenku someplace specific for me?”

“Like there’s anything more that you can do for me.”

“Oh?” The clergy member gained a smug expression that he immediately hated. “You don’t think so?”

There was a flicker of magic before the human’s appearance blinked out of existence. Ilravis found himself face to face with someone who looked way too familiar. There was the sound of fabric against stone and he realized he had taken a step back. The clergy member raised their hand, still smug but their apology reflected at the edges of their expression. “I know, a warning would have been preferred, but I don’t think we have enough time for that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure we have time for an explanation,” he countered sharply, still staring at the other’s face. At his own face.

The clergy member looked up at the ceiling. “I believe the entirety of the atrium is on fire now and it will only be a matter of time before the whole of the upper floors becomes impassable.” The clergy member focused a look on him that he didn’t understand. “If you will take Kenku to where I specify, I will help you.”

“How?”

The clergy member gestured at themself. “I can easily take your place. No one would know.”

He scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. “From a distance, sure. They would know as soon as you started talking.”

“Then it’s a good thing my idea doesn’t require me talking.”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. He hated how vague the other was being; and how morbid his thoughts went. Surely the clergy member’s plan wouldn’t require the clergy member to die. Or getting caught, because that would be worse than death. He glanced at the kenku still sitting clutching the chain. Or maybe it did involve the clergy member’s death. Death was something he had become far too familiar with - be it causing it or witnessing it - and he knew his soul was tainted from it. The fun little bonus that came with it was a strange variant of intuition when it came to knowing if someone was going to die soon. It was never tied with anything like Futuresight or the like; more of a sense of knowing when someone has been dying due to illness or poison, or knowing if someone has met Death before and if they are looking to meet Death again. It lingered in the church like a spider waiting for something to touch a strand of its web, patient and ominous, but it was hard to tell if it lingered because of the raiders or because of his doppelganger.

Not that it swayed him much. Whatever had kept him in line for his captors was thoroughly gone and he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to get free.

“Fine. Where do you want me to take the kenku?”

The clergy member nodded only to cross to the cell. “Good. Let me get Kenku out and I’ll show you a map upstairs.”

The clergy member worked quickly and before he knew it, the clergy member was leading the way back upstairs. Kenku hurried on ahead as if knowing exactly where the clergy member was headed, and maybe the kenku did, but it left him with the clergy member. “Do you still have your name?”

His initial reaction was to give his doppelganger a flat look but then his mind caught up with why the question was being asked. He sighed sharply. “Yes.” Silence followed and it took a moment for him to realize the clergy member was watching him expectantly. He rolled his eyes. “Ilravis.”

“Norman.” This time he did give the clergy member a flat look and the other laughed. “I’ve been masquerading as a human for a good while. Have to have a human name.” The clergy member’s grin was cheeky but his expression didn’t change. That grin smoothed out into a pleasant smile. “Monvyon. Though no one has called me that in a very long time.”

“Monvyon,” he echoed. Strange. It tickled a part of his mind but there was no placing why it sounds familiar. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Monvyon chuckled, as if that had amused the other in some way. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Kenku was waiting for them at the top of the final stairs, hopping from foot to foot. As soon as Kenku saw them it darted through the barely ajar door, a child’s laughter echoing behind it. Ilravis frowned but dutifully followed Monvyon up the steps.

The laughter stopped abruptly drawing the two to a halt halfway up the stairs. Kenku came barreling back in and down the stairs, “Smoke,” coming from its beak in Monvyon’s voice far calmer than the Kenku clearly was. “Monvyon-” A new voice, lighter and breathy, something far more feminine than everything else Ilravis had heard, and this time it held the same concern the kenku was displaying as said kenku nearly collided with Monvyon’s chest, clinging to the fabric there.

“I’ll be ok, Kenku,” Monvyon assured the suddenly worried Kenku. “We’re just going to the Bishop’s office.”

Kenku squawked in protest, its beak snapping sharply at the same time. Monvyon affectionately ran a hand over Kenku’s head before turning the kenku around and urging the aviary onward. Kenku glanced back but didn’t hesitate to dart forward again.

“Not going to say anything about the building being on fire?” Ilravis asked as they started walking again.

He caught sight of a smile as Monvyon covered their nose and mouth with their sleeve, their words muffled by it. “Kenku already knows. Its concern wasn't for the fire anyway.”

He frowned, unconsciously recoiling from the choking scent of smoke. The hallway wasn’t thick with it but it made it a bit hazy. “What else would-”

Monvyon started coughing. At first Ilravis thought Monvyon was suddenly choking on nothing but the coughing quickly became ragged and thick, like there was something in Monvyon’s lungs the other was trying to dislodge. Ilravis froze in place as Monvyon was forced to stop from the force of the fit. Kenku appeared in front of Monvyon before Ilravis had even realized the kenku had been returning. Muttered words like a prayer drifted under the sound of Monvyon’s coughing. At first, nothing happened. Ilravis took a step forward to stop the praying and see if there was anything he could do that would actually help but Monvyon waved at him, straightening. Kenku was still muttering but some of the strain that had come with the coughing had eased from Monvyon’s face as the coughing subsided. The clergy member still coughed occasionally but it wasn’t the body curling kind anymore. “Quickly. Before I have another attack. Lead, Kenku.”

Kenku took off at a run as Ilravis closed the distance between him and Monvyon. “What was that?” he asked in a low voice, watching Monvyon closely.

Monvyon’s pace was as close to running as one could get without breaking into a jog. The clergy member’s voice was raw. “Later. Once we’re in the office.”

Kenku hopped from foot to foot, a clattering coming from its beak. He couldn’t tell if it was a mimic or a sound the kenku could just make with its beak. Monvyon didn’t stop once they had entered the office. Kenku had barely closed the door when Monvyon shoved nearly everything off of the large desk and spread a massive map over the top of it. Ilravis approached, frowning as he came within reaching distance of the desk. Monvyon looked even worse, though the clergy member looked less like Ilravis’s doppelganger now that there was better light from the only window in the room. There was a bit more length to Monvyon’s face, a slightly deeper curve in the tops of Monvyon’s ears, and even the hair wasn’t quite the right color. And maybe there were other differences but he couldn’t tell as the other worked to get the map to lay flat. “What was that, Monvyon,” he all but demanded, resting his hands on the edge of the edge.

Monvyon’s eyes flickered up to him; he recognized those irises but still couldn’t place why. Monvyon’s gaze returned to the map. “A long time ago, I was fortunate enough to avoid the majority of a tragic event that took the lives of all of my family and friends, save for my youngest son, though at the time I had believed even he had been killed. While I avoided death, I wasn’t left untouched.” Monvyon’s expression became startlingly blank. “I had foolishly gone seeking revenge while drowning in my sorrow and, while it gave me the opportunity to discover my youngest son had in fact survived, my drive for revenge only got me caught and tortured. I was forced to breathe harmful particles that irreparably damaged my lungs. I have been living with an impending death date hanging over my head ever since and things like inhaling smoke or overexertion of the lungs only brings that date closer.”

There was nothing that he could say to that. He hadn’t even expected the truth yet Monvyon had given it seemingly without a thought.

Monvyon pressed a finger to a point on the map, drawing Ilravis’s attention out of his thoughts. “This is where we are,” Monvyon pressed another finger to the map nearly a full arm’s span away, “and this is one of two locations you can take Kenku to.”

“You’re joking, right?” Ilravis asked as Monvyon coughed again. He leaned more completely into the table, looking at the distance between the two points. “That’s on the other side of the continent, a good who knows how far away.”

“8 months on foot, about 6 if you’re able to get a cart or horse,” Monvyon rattled off while trying to suppress another cough. Monvyon pointed to a third point. “If you can’t make it there, this is the other place you can take Kenku.”

Ilravis stepped back, not sure if he was flabbergasted or offended. “You expect me to be able to not only smuggle myself but a kenku as well through not only two other, entire nations, but onto a whole other continent?” He gestured at the third point with a sharp flick of his wrist. “Why there? Why that far south?”

“Rebecca Harvestone moved there after falling in love with the city during some of her travels,” Monvyon pointed at the second point “Treba Verda, an old colleague of mine, went here for study.”

“Rebecca,” Kenku parroted, but despite it being in Monvyon’s voice, the tone and roll of the word was completely different. Almost fond.

Monvyon smiled gently at Kenku before focusing on Ilravis. “They are the only people I know who will be more than happy to take Kenku in and provide a far better life than what this church has done.”

Ilravis furrowed his brow. “And the reason you haven’t taken Kenku there yet yourself is...”

Monvyon smiled weakly. “Unfortunately, my ability to do anything for Kenku was restricted to reading the scriptures to him. The higher members of the church made sure of that.”

“Like the Bishop,” Ilravis guessed.

Monvyon started digging through the desk drawers. “To some extent. We were too small to have a bishop here full time but he would visit regularly. It was who he had put in charge who had decided Kenku was best left in the cellar chained like an animal.”

Ilravis almost missed the venom that filled those last words. Monvyon’s voice had barely changed yet it had been there. “How did a church become responsible for a kenku, anyway?”

“I was told it was a group of adventurers who had brought Kenku in as a babe. Supposedly they had been too kind hearted to kill it with its thieving parents but I’m not sure how much faith I hold to that.” Monvyon flattened out two smaller maps, quickly marking the two locations with a precise, deliberate stroke of a pen. “But, just as I don’t trust the words of my fellow clergy members, I know that it is just as likely Kenku was given to us in the hopes that we are able to find it a good home as it was that the adventurers were just leaving Kenku here to be dealt with by someone else.” Monvyon offered Ilravis the maps. “Are you still willing to take Kenku to one of these locations for me?”

The chaffing of his wrists came back to the forefront of his mind. He gestured with one hand to emphasize his point. “Only if you hold true to your word and help me with my own situation.”

“Ah, yes. I nearly forgot, what with everything else. ” Monvyon put the maps down and walked back around the table. “It will require you to trust me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the rest of his expression flat and annoyed. “You can’t do anything worse than what I’ve already been through.”

Something flickered across Monvyon’s face too fast for Ilravis to decipher. He was tempted to call it guilt but unless Monvyon was hiding something, there was nothing for the other to feel guilt over. “Fair enough.” Monvyon’s hand pressed into Ilravis’s chest only hard enough to be difficult to dislodge. “I will be putting you into a fake death. Once I am done removing them, I will return you to the waking world.”

“Will it actually work?”

Monvyon offered an encouraging smile. “The only thing that will know it isn’t true death will be Death itself. I will only know because it is my action causing it. Nothing more.”

Ilravis hesitated long enough to glance at Kenku. The aviary was at the door wadding something in the bottom crack to keep the smoke out. “Fine. But if it hurts–”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. One moment he was standing giving Monvyon permission to go through with the plan and the next he was groggily waking up on the floor. Kenku was at his head, hands on either side as what sounded like the words to a prayer drifted from Kenku’s beak in that same feminine voice. His wrists felt warm and his skin was tingly all the way up his arms but he could tell the cuffs were gone. Monvyon leaned over into his line of sight looking a hell of a lot worse than when Ilravis had last seen the other and Monvyon had looked bad before knocking him out.

“Don’t rush getting up. We’ve got a little bit more time. Kenku is nearly at the end of the Prayer of Healing and we will both be feeling a whole lot better once the prayer is complete.”

Ilravis could almost see the shroud of Death clinging to Monvyon from that groggy state. He wasn’t so sure Monvyon would get any sort of relief no matter how powerful a Prayer of Healing was. Not that he even thought it would do anything. Praying had certainly done him no good in the past.

The grogginess slid away rather quickly as the words spoken in that feminine voice from earlier came to an end. Ilravis carefully sat up when Kenku stood, a brief, small chk-chk-chk coming from the kenku’s beak. He frowned at the kenku as it went back to stuffing fabric under the door. “Who taught him that prayer?”

“Rebecca.” A weak, fond smile pulled at Monvyon’s lips. “She taught Kenku the majority of the prayers Kenku knows, though none of us expected Kenku to actually be able to use them as Kenku has. Very few of us were ever blessed with the might of our God.”

“Why not you?” When Monvyon only raised an eyebrow, Ilravis elaborated. “Why didn’t you teach Kenku any of it? Especially after finding out it was blessed with the might of the Gods.” His lips curled with those echoed words. He didn’t overly believe that was even a thing. He had never met a God and, while he had seen plenty use magic, none of it had been because a God bestowed it upon someone. Magic was magic. Everyone had it and could use it. All it took was the right training with the right kind of magic, the right understanding. It made spell scrolls and magical items the most sought after during raids; they always guaranteed a number of good meals and a warm place to sleep for a short while because of how well they sold or could be utilized.

Monvyon blinked at him before smiling fondly at him. “I would have liked to but Kenku wasn’t the only one on a short leash. I was closely watched because of my outcry against Kenku’s treatment. Rebecca was far better at going unnoticed. Not that she liked it but it served a purpose in the end.” Monvyon stood, groaning with visible effort. “Come. There is one last thing we need to do before you are able to take Kenku away from here.”

“And that requires you going back out into the smoke?” Ilravis asked, standing with far more ease than he expected. He gave Kenku a surprised look that the kenku never saw.

Only, Kenku bristled at his question and whipped around to give Monvyon a dark look. Ilravis started when Kenku’s beak opened and his own voice came out. “You’re joking, right?” It was the same incredulous tone as he had spoken it in and he found that it made him very uncomfortable. Kenku didn’t let him stew on that long as it continued in Monvyon’s steady voice, “Inhaling smoke only brings that death date closer.”

That was not verbatim. Ilravis knew that was not and yet it had sounded so smooth, like it had been spoken that way. He stared at Kenku, wondering now just how much control Kenku actually had over what it said and how it said it. Certainly not much if it hadn’t been able to change the inflections while furious at Monvyon. Those words had been just as nonchalant as Monvyon had spoken them.

“You are not going out again.” A new voice this time, one that matched Kenku’s outrage; it sounded almost like the first voice he had heard Kenku use but he wasn’t certain.

“Kenku,” Monvyon tried to placate but the kenku shook its head vehemently.

“You are not going out again!” it bellowed in that unnamed voice.

Monvyon didn’t respond verbally but the other did walk over to Kenku, kneel, and pull the aviary into a tight hug. The kenku was quick to bury its face into Monvyon’s shoulder, beak pressing down Monvyon’s front.

“You went out?” Ilravis interjected.

“For supplies while you were in that death state,” Monvyon confirmed. “There is a new outfit for Kenku on the table as well as a satchel of supplies and money for the both of you. I also grabbed another for what we have to do next.” Monvyon pulled back from the hug enough to get Kenku’s attention. “I have to step out and lead the criminals astray, otherwise they will find you and they will do terrible things to you.”

Kenku, still crying, shook its head again. “Stay here for me,” it said in Monvyon’s voice. The words trembled with something Ilravis couldn’t name but it wasn’t whatever Kenku was feeling, he knew that.

“I will do my best to catch up with you both later, but for now I need you to be good and do as Ilravis says, ok?” Kenku rubbed at its eyes and beak before nodding. “Good. Go put on the outfit I brought you. I’ll make sure Ilravis returns as I take the criminal’s attention away from you.”

Kenku morosely drifted towards the table where a pile of white fabric rested next to some bags. Monvyon didn’t wait to see if Kenku did as instructed. “Come on,” Monvyon spoke, stepping through the door quickly.

Ilravis followed after, quick to close the door. Monvyon, though, simply crossed the hall to the other door and entered the space. Not sure what Monvyon was doing, Ilravis stepped in and closed the door quickly to keep the now rather thick smoke out of the room.

“Undress,” Monvyon wheezed, already stripping.

“Why?” Ilravis asked, even as he followed suit. He barely managed to catch the first bit of garment Monvyon threw at him.

Monvyon gave him a very tired look and Ilravis was suddenly reminded of his impression upon waking up of almost seeing the shroud of Death hanging over Monvyon. “We are swapping clothes. All of it. After that, I will put myself in the same fake death that I had placed you in and you will put your shackles on my wrists. Once done, you will have to carry me out into the chapel and leave me there. If for some reason I am not properly dead after the spell has worn off, the first lung full of smoke will guarantee it.” Ilravis stared at Monvyon, not believing what he was hearing. Monvyon seemed unperturbed by his disbelief as the other met his gaze. “I am living on borrowed minutes, Ilravis. The only reason I’m still moving around is because of Kenku’s Prayer of Healing. Putting you into that false death and then going back into the hall with only the cloth on my body to keep the smoke at bay should have killed me. Kenku was quick to give me some healing when I staggered back in but it barely did anything; I could barely even sit up afterwards. The Prayer of Healing had been more for me than you but it affects multiple people at once so it benefited the both of us.” Monvyon threw another article of clothing at Ilravis’s face. Ilravis snatched it out of the air but before he could retort, Monvyon had already turned away. “Get dressed. We’re running out of time.”

“Are you seriously going to just leave Kenku like that?” he asked, the words thick with incredulity. “Leave it hoping it’ll see you again at some point? You can’t give it that kind of hope. It would kill the poor creature.”

Monvyon turned back to him with an exhausted expression filled with pain. “You are more than welcome to tell Kenku what really happened later but I was not about to have that fight. This is my choice.”

“What good does throwing your life way do if someone is relying on you to stay alive?!”

“I am already dead, Ilravis!” Monvyon bellowed. Ilravis slid a foot back on the stone floor, bracing for an attack that would never come. The moment that yell left Monvyon, so too did most of the other’s strength. Ilravis watched as Monvyon practically collapsed in on themself, hand going to hair that looked far too thin. “I was dead the moment I caught up with those fucking raiders; the only reason why I’m even alive today is because of you and your stupid, idiotic, kindhearted mentor.”

It was like someone had ghosted their finger from the tip of his head down his spine sending a cascade of spiders over every square inch of skin along the way. His breathing deepened even as it felt like his ribs contracted. “What?” It was clipped, demanding, and thick with the distrust he had a vice grip around.

Monvyon winced only to bow their head in resignation. “I had followed the raiders for a few years. I hadn’t realized they had been tailing you - though whether that had been coincidence or intentional, I still don’t know - until they already had their hands on me. I don’t remember how I escaped but I was nearly dead when I had. I never learned how I ended up at the monastery - your teacher Master Yun never told me - but I do remember waking up there.” Monvyon coughed suddenly, briefly, and struggled to suck in a breath afterwards. “I was never truly conscious but I remember becoming awake enough to see and understand Master Yun,” Monvyon looked up to meet his gaze, “and to see you.” There was a pause, a brief lull that Ilravis refused to disrupt because he didn’t understand, that Monvyon seemed to not notice. “My youngest son, though not the youngest of seven, still alive after I had believed you had died with the others. Ilravis Nodelstacia, son to Monvyon and Banvret Nodelstacia, moon elf of my own flesh and blood.”

The torrent of emotions had become noise; nothing more than a numbing presence that simply existed around him. He wanted to scream, to yell, to ask thousands of questions, but all he could do was stare banefully at the moon elf before him. His own parent was before him and he couldn’t even feel anything about that fact.

Monvyon stepped close enough to tug at Ilravis’s shirt. “Come on. We’re running out of time.”

Ilravis took a solid step back, unconsciously shaking his head no as he did so. “I’m not about to let you die.”

Monvyon chuckled. He hated how rueful it was. “I’m already dead, Ilravis. I won’t make it through the night even if we made it into fresh air. At least let me do something with my death.”

There was truth in that statement. Ilravis could almost see Death tugging at the last of what held Monvyon in Life and it wouldn’t be long before Death had the other completely. He fisted the fabric still in his hands before glaring at Monvyon. “Fuck you.”

Monvyon didn’t respond beyond a look of acceptance crossing that ashen face. Ilravis started to strip.

When they were both dressed in each other’s clothes, Monvyon couldn’t stand anymore. Each breath was loud and sounded horrible in ways Ilravis couldn’t even explain. It was all Ilravis could do to not go get Kenku anyways and force it to heal Monvyon to the extent that it could. Monvyon was still resigned to all of it and even looked content sitting at the base of a wall dressed in Ilravis’s clothing. “Promise me something. Ilravis.”

“What?” he asked, his voice monotone as he finished getting his last shoe onto Monvyon’s foot.

“When you get out of here, you live a long, good life to the best of your ability knowing you are loved far more than you know.” Ilravis blinked, finding that he had stopped mid task. He quickly finished. “And as a favor-” he could hear Monvyon struggle to pull in the breath as a tear streaked down Monvyon’s face- “tell Rebecca I’m sorry if you make it that far.”

“Sure.”

Monvyon raised a hand but the other swayed heavily to one side as if the simple act had caused Monvyon to become unbalanced. Ilravis’s hands shot out, steadying Monvyon. Monvyon offered him a weak smile as that raised hand settled against Monvyon’s chest.

Ilravis watched as the spell took effect without retaining whatever Monvyon had said to cast it. As soon as it was in place, Ilravis was quick to slip his old cuffs onto Monvyon’s wrists before getting to work.

He returned to Kenku in a daze, not truly remembering going through with the rest of his plan. Kenku greeted him upon entry in all white but it did little to startle Ilravis out of his daze. He placed a hand on the kenku’s head not hearing any of the words that were most likely flowing from the kenku’s beak. “Let’s get out of here.”

They slipped out through the window without any trouble, bags and maps in hand. It would be months later, though, before Ilravis got confirmation if Monvyon’s sacrifice had actually worked or not. His answer came when he and Kenku were one major town away from Treba Verda’s town. One of the raiders who had been part of the initial group that set the church on fire had been in the town and met Ilravis’s gaze by sheer luck. Ilravis only realized a split second too late and a shouted, “Guys! We have him!” filling the air behind him was evident enough that the lead Monvyon had given them was gone now.

Kenku never gave any indication that it knew why Ilravis was suddenly changing their plans and Ilravis put that more towards luck than his own skill. While he was able to keep a step ahead of his previous captors, they were quick and it was hard to hide a Kenku dressed in white when he himself stood out just as much.

It was easy hiding it from others, though.

She was cute in the way that all cats were cute, not that she was like a cat beyond her appearance. She was fiercely self confident, quick tongued, and light on her feet despite the prosthetic she didn’t care to hide. Her tail was as equally fluffy as the fur around her neck and at the base of her throat and she took great pride in her appearance for it. Her accent wasn’t heavy but it was very distinct, and for some reason she took an instant liking to him, to which Ilravis didn’t feel like trying to understand why, if only to save himself the headache. Everyone loved Kenku - Ilravis had exploited that little fact far too often for it to not be cruel - but they always gave him a wide berth in contrast. She, though, sat down next to him in one of the seaport taverns and ordered him and herself a drink. Her companions had been less thrilled about joining his and Kenku’s table but Kenku’s good nature and her apparent ease with his presence seemed to be enough for them.

“Come on, Talley. The Captain’s expecting us back.”

She waved them off as she leaned into the table seeking out his gaze. “In a minute.” He gave it to her with a bewildered look. “You wanted a ship out of here, right?” Her tail flicked behind her, a tell he didn’t understand yet.

“Preferably south,” he confirmed. “From all the chatter, though, it sounds like your ship’s heading north.”

“We are, but that doesn’t mean we’re not heading south afterwards.” She grinned, one that showed way too many teeth for his liking. “Come with. The Captain will appreciate a good pair of hands and we’re always in need of a good healer.”

“Kenku doesn’t know medicine-”

“Yet,” she cut in, giddy. “We drop off our current healer on our last stop north. Kenku will have enough time to pick up all sorts of information.”

Ilravis glanced at her companions. “And your Captain’s just going to let the two of us board with no previous conversations not knowing who we are.”

“She will if I put in a good word for you.” He looked back at her, at that eager expression she kept trained on his face. “If I take full responsibility for any mutiny you may cause.”

He rolled his eyes, picking up his drink. “I don’t need a keeper, much less Kenku. No thank you.”

“Exactly.” His cup froze at his lips. “You don’t need a keeper but you do need a way into Alvron. Come with us, Ravin. We’re your only ticket south that doesn’t come with consequences. The Captain will expect you to work hard for your passage but she’s fair and won’t work you any harder than she works any of us.” Her hand settled on his arm, warm and soft against his bare skin. “Come with us.”

He looked at her again as he lowered his cup back to the table. “You guarantee this will not cost Kenku or I anything material or otherwise.”

She nodded solemnly. “Safe passage for the same manual labor all the crew does. That’s it.” Her ears stood a bit straighter on her head. “Oh, and Kenku learning as much as possible from the current healer on board. She’ll want that, too.”

Ilravis sighed. “Fine.” He pushed his chair back as he stood. Kenku followed suit without being told, happily walking towards the door as if the kenku knew where to go without her or her company leading. He turned a flat, hard look onto her. “But if you are leading us astray, I will skin you alive and turn your hide into a winter cloak.”

Her companions didn’t care much for the threat - at least three of them reached for weapons - but she only grinned big and bright while hopping from foot to prosthetic in clear excitement. “Deal.”

He and her companions shared the same exasperated sigh. She was going to be a handful, he just knew it.

[ArtisticVicu]

The Fifth Descender
They weren't supposed to come to Teyvat. Kaveh should have known better than to coax the otherworlder from their path, to have left things be.

No, wait, that wasn't fair to Kaveh. Alhaitham had asked. He had been curious, just as Kaveh had been eager when the otherworlder had changed directions to at least fly by. Kaveh couldn't have known the Fatui had been watching the otherworlder. Kaveh couldn't have known that Alhaitham would end up leaving him in Sumeru City - unconscious, alone- no, Lesser Lord Kusanali was with him. Lesser Lord Kusanali had sent Alhaitham with Wanderer to get the otherworlder, had...had.......

He really hated nausea. The pain he could deal with but the nausea could go away and never return.

Maybe he should try and get some more sleep. It would be nice to wake up to a rescue, especially with how bad his injuries were.

They were looking for them, right?

Content Warning: Do be advised that starting in Chapter 2, there is talk about wound care and vomiting. Nothing is overly explicit however keep in mind I am not trained on wound care beyond First Aid training and thus information may be inaccurate.

Kaveh was still hovering, not that Alhaitham was surprised. It had only been a day since he had returned to work so some hovering was to be expected; no, the thing that was odd was the nature of it.

Usually by the time Alhaitham returned to work, Kaveh was less attentive, less present in a sense, and oftentimes antsy to get back to work in a greater capacity. Kaveh wasn’t behaving like that. Alhaitham watched him, book lying open and temporarily forgotten on the table, as Kaveh quietly worked on some illustration. From what glimpses Alhaitham had managed around Kaveh’s normal behavior of hiding it before Alhaitham could really see it, it didn’t look like Kaveh’s normal work. It had looked a bit too abstract, less focused, or perhaps too complex for a simple sheet of paper to hold, like Kaveh was trying to capture how the stars hung in three dimensional space in a two dimensional image. But despite Kaveh’s appearance of working diligently away on his latest piece, Alhaitham knew better. Kaveh’s gaze was focused on the in-between space rather than the page itself. Instead of precise, almost dance-like, long movements from Kaveh’s arm, the movements were small, fleeting, and seemed to drift more than to dance. Even his expression - which could range from a scowl of frustration to a lax concentration - was blissful in a way Alhaitham had only ever seen on Kaveh’s face once and he didn’t care to see it for a second time.

Despite those oddities, Kaveh was as attentive as the man had been for the last three days. Even now, Kaveh’s gaze lifted from his work and focused on Alhaitham as if he had felt Alhaitham watching him. Part of that blissful expression slipped into something more familiar, something Alhaitham had seen regularly during those three days. “Need something? A break, maybe?” Kaveh started putting down his materials, careful to make sure the project was covered from prying eyes, but Alhaitham didn’t bother working out a response. Kaveh’s gaze unfocused like the man was focusing on a thought for the brief instant that it took for Kaveh to stand; there would be no point in saying anything when Kaveh would feel the real answer anyway. “Yep. Breaktime. Come on.” Kaveh came to a stop at Alhaitham’s side and grinned at him. “Let’s go take a walk and then you can come back to your reading. We’ll see about getting some food into both of us while we’re out.”

The idea of eating anything sent a curl of disgust through him. He wasn’t hungry despite knowing he was supposed to be if not outright starving. It had certainly been long enough since the measly amount he had managed to consume earlier in the day to not be.

Kaveh’s expression softened; he was grateful it held no pity. “I know but you have to at least have something small. We’ll try your go-tos and work from there.” Kaveh’s hand closed around Alhaitham’s upper arm and he automatically reached up to grab ahold of Kaveh’s forearm. Kaveh wasn’t strong enough to pull him bodily from the chair but the tug was enough for Alhaitham to move under his own power. “If all else fails, I did bring a few crackers so you can have those and some water when we get back. And juice, if you can manage it. Get some other nutrients in you as best we can.”

Appreciation was thick in his chest as Kaveh reseated Alhaitham’s headphones back into place, even going as far as to make sure the noise canceling was active before the lift had even arrived. Had the remnants of the illness he had suffered through not been present, he would have found this attentiveness irritating. Kaveh led the way at Alhaitham’s side filling the space between them with words. It was clear Kaveh had no expectation of Alhaitham’s participation but Alhaitham did what he could to be attentive of the other’s words.

It quickly became apparent that he was incapable of tracking anything Kaveh said. Moments would slip through his fingers and he would find himself suddenly aware of Kaveh’s words and the world around them like he had just woken from a dream. Kaveh was always in his line of sight whenever he came back to awareness with a patient cheerful expression and oftentimes something being offered. Most of it was food that Alhaitham turned down but there were the occasional trinkets, a number of which were shown without intent to buy, a rarity with Kaveh. It wasn’t often they walked the market and Kaveh wasn’t relying on Alhaitham to not let the other man buy every trinket that caught his interest.

When had his head gotten so foggy?

“How about this?” Coming back into awareness at Kaveh’s question, the blended smell of fresh bread, a mix of spices, and vegetables was the first thing he was able to focus on. It took a moment before he was able to actually understand what he was looking at even as his hand was already closing around the filled bun. He wasn’t sure why he took it. It wasn’t like his appetite had returned. But maybe a part of him knew he needed food and the filled buns had always been a safe option.

He recoiled from the texture first and the taste second. Kaveh’s hand was under his in an instant, slipping the filled bun free of his grasp and quickly replacing it with a bottle of water. “Drink,” Kaveh directed, his voice still that same carefree sort of tone it had been in all day.

Alhaitham took a long drink before returning the bottle to Kaveh. “I can eat it,” he said, his gaze on Kaveh’s face.

Amusement bloomed across Kaveh’s face and the man smiled at him. “You could,” Kaveh agreed, lifting the bun to take a bite, “but I’d rather you have something that you want rather than the first thing I hand you.”

That wasn’t exactly right. Kaveh had handed Alhaitham plenty of food throughout however long their walk had been. This was simply the first he had taken. “Kaveh,” he started but they both knew he didn’t have the words to follow it.

Kaveh offered him that smile again, the bun already half gone. “Come on. We’ve got two more stalls to check out on this street.”

In the end, it was the least expected item that had drawn Alhaitham’s appetite out and the pair of them returned to the sanctuary of the Grand Sage’s office with several skewers of barbecued meat and icy drinks. Alhaitham started for one of the small side tables but Kaveh had other plans and promptly walked towards the balcony with the plate of skewers. Alhaitham - now ravenous - followed after as irritation pulled at his chest. “Kaveh,” he started but Kaveh waved him off as the other man opened the balcony door with his elbow and back out onto the balcony itself.

“We’ve been in the stuffy office all day. Let’s at least eat out here. Look. There’s even some nice seating here.”

Sure enough, the blanket and cushions Kaveh had put out there the day prior were still there ready to be utilized. Alhaitham had somehow managed to forget all about them and stood just past the threshold holding their drinks as he watched Kaveh settle in the middle of the cushions, shoes tucked neatly at the edge of the blanket. Kaveh reached for the drinks as soon as the plate of skewers was safely placed on the low table and Alhaitham handed the drinks over without much thought.

The blanket was cool against his bare feet as he joined Kaveh. Habit had him sitting straight with one leg tucked tight forcing the other to be propped higher than the other. It kept him sitting upright as Kaveh passed him a still steaming skewer. The meat on it was gone before Kaveh had finished his first bite.

Kaveh filled the silence with soft chatter between mouthfuls. Alhaitham contributed very little and settled into the cushions once he was sated. Despite the voracious appetite that had seized him, Alhaitham had managed half of what he would normally have consumed. Kaveh didn’t comment on it, coaxing instead for Alhaitham to at least finish his drink before he took the unintended nap he was heading for.

He wasn’t sure he had managed to drink all of it before falling asleep.

What he did know was that a lot of time had passed by the time he had woken up. The balcony had been warm and well lit but was now dark and while he was warm thanks to whatever Kaveh had draped over him, the air on his face was cool. He sat up, letting whatever covered him slide to gather on his lap, and found Kaveh as soon as he started looking around.

The sky beyond the balcony was speckled in stars. The only reason Alhaitham was able to see anything was the light from the door and the two lanterns mounted on the wall. Even then Kaveh’s face was cast in thick shadows as it was pointed up towards the stars, oblivious to the rest of the world. The other man’s back was bare of its normal split cape. That particular item was now gathered in Alhaitham’s lap along with his own cape piece.

Alhaitham stood. The fog he had dealt with during their walk was gone. He refused to acknowledge just how severely he had needed food and a nap as he walked over to Kaveh’s side. The railing was still warm as he leaned back against it, letting his forearms take his weight as Kaveh took his gaze. Even then Kaveh didn’t react to him. Kaveh’s eyes were locked on the stars without really seeing them and that blissful look was back on his face. A thin string of unease pulled taut through Alhaitham’s chest. “Something interesting got your attention?” he asked, half expecting to be ignored.

“They’re so free up there.”

The unease was masked by curiosity and intrigued but not wholly forgotten. “Oh? And who are they?”

Kaveh shrugged, a half formed gesture that could have been a simple shift of weight had Alhaitham not known better. “Another otherworlder, kind of like the Traveller.”

Alhaitham turned his gaze to the stars knowing he wouldn't be able to see whatever held Kaveh’s attention. Kaveh had connected to this otherworlder on a level Alhaitham couldn’t even fathom. Being an Empath was rare among Sumeru’s populations - possibly all across Teyvat if his research was anything to go by - and Kaveh was proving once again that he was not on the same level as other Empaths. The part that concerned Alhaitham about it all, though, was how connected Kaveh had become to some otherworlder who hadn’t even touched Teyvat soil. The last time Alhaitham had witnessed Kaveh get so entangled with another, it had ended poorly and he had foolishly believed - or naively hoped - that the first time had been the only time Kaveh would ever suffer through such an entanglement.

“Are they coming to visit?” Alhaitham asked, turning enough for his body to face Kaveh.

Kaveh’s bliss slipped at the edges as he thought. “They’re curious but they have somewhere else they wish to be.” That bliss came back full force and Kaveh leaned into the railing with enough weight that Alhaitham instinctively straightened, unconsciously - irrationally - thinking Kaveh would put too much of his weight over the railing. “They are going to fly by! They’ll be close enough to see!”

With a hand still hovering over Kaveh’s arm, Alhaitham looked up, eager in a way he would never verbalize to see even just a glimpse of whatever had enthralled Kaveh. The seconds turned into minutes and although time seemed to stretch on longer than it really needed to, Alhaitham didn’t say anything. He moved about, obviously, into something more comfortable when it became apparent the otherworlder wasn’t as close as he had originally assumed but he never broke the silence. Neither did Kaveh, still leaning heavily on the railing, gaze still locked on the night sky above.

Kaveh spotted them first. “There!” he exclaimed, this time leaning so far over the railing he teetered on the edge of falling. The back of Alhaitham’s fingers ran against Kaveh’s spine as he took hold of the other’s shirt collar through the opening in the back. He yanked hard enough to bring the man’s weight back onto the balcony but did nothing more as his gaze searched the portion of sky Kaveh was pointing at.

For a breath, Alhaitham thought he wouldn’t be able to make the otherworlder out, only for something he had assumed was nothing more than another twinkling star to get larger in the sky. Alhaitham vaguely noted the rail pressing into his gut as he watched that star slowly grow in size until it was nearly as large as Alhaitham’s hand spread wide. It slowly started to dip down in the sky, like it was coming to land not far from Sumeru City, before a tail started to appear and it banked to the right. It flew across the sky in a brilliant streak of light, golds and blues most prominent of colors in the trail left behind. For a long minute it continued its horizontal trajectory before banking steadily south with a lazy arch skyward.

Alhaitham withdrew from the rail with a fond smile on his lips. Kaveh was still enthusiastically waving to the otherworlder even if the otherworlder couldn’t see it and Alhaitham was content to let him wave to his heart’s content.

Something on the far hill the otherworlder was rounding caught his eye. Just as his gaze settled on the hillside in confusion, a beam of light flashed into existence anchored to the point on the hill and continuing on into the night sky, a beam of light that cut right through the cluster of light that was the otherworlder.

A wretched, guttural, fear- and pain-filled scream tore itself from Kaveh as Alhaitham watched the otherworlder’s trajectory drop dangerously. The beam of light had been brief, like a lightning strike, and had burned itself across his vision. It made the details of the balcony hard to discern but he could see Kaveh enough to watch as the man finally tipped over the railing.

Alhaitham wrapped one arm around Kaveh’s waist as the other hooked around the front of Kaveh’s shoulder. He pulled Kaveh back, pinning the man to his chest even as Kaveh thrashed against him, desperate and panicked. “Kaveh,” he grunted, struggling to maintain his hold on Kaveh. “Calm down. We’ve gotta-”

A second beam of light shot into the sky, this time from a different location and far less blinding yet still very visible against the night sky. The otherworlder hadn’t yet managed to regain any of the altitude they had lost but they had made distance. Already they were nearly the size of any other star in the sky and the beam of light seemed as thin as spider silk. There was an interruption in the otherworlder’s path but they were too far away for Alhaithan to tell if the second beam had made contact.

“Go! Keep going!”

If Kaveh’s shouting was anything to go by, the otherwordler had managed to dodge that one.

“You can do it! Just get high enough! Come on! Get higher!”

Alhaitham lost track of the otherworlder as the distance between them grew too great. If he had to guess, the otherworlder had to be near Aaru Village at that point.

“Come on! One last burst! You can do it!”

Kaveh was trembling. He had probably been trembling since the moment Alhaitham had pulled him back from the rail but it was only as he turned his gaze from the sky that he noticed. Without thinking, he shifted his hold to check Kaveh over for injury, hands pressing against Kaveh’s sides, back, chest, but nothing broke Kaveh’s gaze. Nothing gained him so much as a hiss of pain or a flinch, not even when he pressed a spot that he knew was ticklish.

Irrational or not, he was immensely grateful the Empath ability was only of the mind and not shared by the body as well.

“Yes! Just a bit more and you’ll- NO!”

Kaveh lurched forward, breaking what measly hold Alhaitham had of him and slammed into the railing. The railing created the brief second Alhaitham needed to wrap his arms around Kaveh again and yank the fervent man back from sure death. Tears were streaming down Kaveh’s face, a sheen of sweat covering what exposed skin Alhaitham could see as Kaveh seemed unable to stand anymore. The trembling had turned into tremors yet Kaveh’s gaze never wavered. Alhaitham sank to his knees as carefully as he could with Kaveh pinned to his front.

Kaveh’s breath shuddered. “No, you have to- I know it hurts. It hurts so much.” An ache settled in Alhaitham’s chest. He had thought he had heard Kaveh speak in every way possible but this… “But you have to get higher. You have to get out of here. Come on. Just a bit more strength and you’ll…” For a moment those heartbroken words stilted to a stop. Alhaitham - foolishly - thought that was it; the otherworlder had pulled their strength together and was going home; but then Kaveh tensed against him. “No. No, don’t pass out,” Kaveh urged, frantic in a way his body seemed unable to replicate. “You have to get away. You have to- No! They’re there! Don’t fall asl- No, they’re right- NO!”

Kaveh lurched forward as if he could reach the otherworlder but Alhaitham moved with him, his arms tightening around Kaveh’s chest. Panic seized his chest when Kaveh’s dead weight nearly threw both of them to the floor. With a quick weight shift, he managed to drag Kaveh’s body around enough to get the other laying against him. That panic flared into terror at the thought of Kaveh keeling over dead from whatever connection he shared with the otherworlder flickered briefly into existence but the tremors were still going strong and Alhaitham could feel Kaveh’s chest rise and fall from where his hand was splayed on the other’s chest.

“Alhaitham?”

He looked up, startled by a voice he hadn’t heard in quite some time. There, standing on the railing as if she had floated down from the stars themselves, was the Dendro Archon. She hadn’t changed; she was still wearing that small dress of green and white on her small form with nothing on her feet. In contrast, the person who stood on the railing beside her Alhaitham only half recognized. The stranger was dressed in predominantly blues and black and had a wide brimmed hat from which a pair of ribbons hung from the back rim. He was certain he had seen them before but his mind refused to hand over a name.

He turned his attention back to the Dendro Archon. “Lesser Lord Kusanali.” The words scratched at his throat and fell heavily from his tongue. Five different questions tangled into a knot deeper down, choking off anything else he might have said. He flexed his jaw as anger churned through him. No, he refused to do this now. He had questions and at minimum he had to know why she was there.

“Oh no.” She hopped down from the railing, her eyes on Kaveh and a sad expression settling into place. The Dendro Archon settled on the ground at their side as she placed one of her hands on Kaveh’s arm. “I had hoped he hadn’t been bound so tightly when I had heard his screams.” She shifted back on her ankles, looking to her companion. “Wanderer, will you please take Kaveh to the Sanctuary for me and then send word for Tighnari in Gandharva Ville.”

Unfortunately, the name didn’t sound familiar.

The stranger huffed but stepped off the railing with an odd amount more grace than the Dendro Archon had. “Fine. But don’t expect to get anything other than an earful from that Forest Ranger when he chews you out for not taking him to any of the doctors here.”

Wanderer bent down to pick Kaveh up but paused when Alhaitham’s arms tightened. It had been instinct, he wanted to snap but the words wouldn’t come forth. Instead, he met the stranger’s incredulous gaze with a flat one of his own, daring them to do something about it even as he fought to relax his hold.

The Dendro Archon’s small hand settled against one of his arms. “It will be alright, Alhaitham. Wanderer won’t cause him any more harm. He will be well protected and well cared for in the Sanctuary.”

Alhaitham gritted his teeth, his grip flexing before finally going lax. Wanderer’s arms slipped under Kaveh, rubbing against Alhaitham’s chest and legs in turn. He expected the contact to be rough but the stranger’s movement was fluid and careful, even going as far as to make sure Kaveh was well situated before standing. A small fraction of his worry eased. “I’ll be back,” the stranger said before hopping up onto the railing. A burst of anemo energy churned the air on the balcony as the stranger stepped off and disappeared from sight.

“Do you know what happened?” the Dendro Archon asked.

Alhaitham shook his head. There was a weight on the back of his tongue, almost as if the words had physical form he had to talk around, and all he managed was a garbled, “Can guess,” out of the complete sentence he had wanted to say. He tried clearing his throat but that only made his throat feel more raw. “I…We saw…parts of it…from here.”

He clenched his jaw even as he sucked in a breath to try and calm down. To his relief, the Dendro Archon didn’t react to his stagnant speech.

“The first attack?”

He nodded. “And the second,” Alhaitham said. There was a tightness to his throat but talking was getting easier. “After that…I only had how…Kaveh reacted to go off of.” Another shuddering breath and slowly words were easier to say. “Kaveh had talked as if the otherworlder could hear him. He tried to convince them to leave while they still could but it…the third attack hit. Kaveh’s trembling had turned to tremors from it and the way Kaveh talked…” That ache returned, heavy and thick at the memory, stagnating his breath for a moment. “The rest of his words were too broken for a clear picture but I believe there was either a fourth attack or the otherworlder fell unconscious and into the awaiting arms of their attacker. He passed out with the last one, regardless.”

The Dendro Archon nodded her head. “From what little more I could see, it was the former, though that does not exclude the latter completely. However, it does create a problem. We can hope that they have landed far from the reach of those who were attacking them but if they truly landed in their arms…”

“We’re out of time.”

She nodded again. “I will send Wanderer with you but I suggest you take others with you. Not very many more, though. Too many and you risk being slowed down.”

“You’re sending me after them?”

Those large, not quite human green eyes focused on him curiously. “You know what is at stake if we take too long and I doubt we have time to fill many more in.” The Dendro Archon stood and brushed off her skirt as if it was dirty. “I will stay with Kaveh and make sure he is ok. On the off chance something goes wrong or if I find more information, I will do my best to let you know as soon as possible. I have never tried to communicate across that far of a distance before but in theory I should be able to reach Wanderer.”

Alhaitham frowned. “Reach?”

She held out her hands to him. “There are a few people who I can talk with, mmmm… telepathically, I guess you could call it.” When he didn’t react to her reach, she bent down and took hold of his hand. “Wanderer is one of them, though not by design.” Oh. She was trying to help him stand. He tucked his legs under and stood without putting his weight on her. “I can speak with the Traveler in the same manner, though that is due to everything that has happened. I will try reaching out to the Traveler as well but I have no idea if the connection is strong enough. It seemed improper to continue such ways of communicating while the Traveler wasn’t within the city, let alone Sumeru itself so I fear I won’t be able to bring the Traveler to your aid.”

“But if anything changes…”

“I’ll let you know through Wanderer.”

“Are my ears burning or are you two actually talking about me?”

Wanderer landed on the railing again. For a brief moment, Alhaitham caught sight of Wanderer’s hat as a halo of anemo energy before returning to its natural state. The Dendro Archon took a few steps towards Wanderer, answering, “I was letting Alhaitham know that you will be joining him to go find our guest.”

Wanderer raised an eyebrow at her as he crossed his arms. “Does it have to be me?”

The movement fluttered long strips of fabric hanging from the back of Wanderer’s outfit, strips of fabric that suddenly reminded Alhaitham of something similar. Alhaitham gathered up Kaveh’s split cape and his own.

“Yes. I want to make sure Alhaitham and those he chooses to go with him have another powerful Vision bearer at their side. Not to mention your talents will make finding our guest that much easier. Even with Alhaitham’s talents, you are able to get higher than Alhaitham is which will lend itself to tracking our guest or any of their pursuers.” The Dendro Archon was the size of a child and very much looked like one with her hands clasped behind her back and smiling gently up at an unamused Wanderer. “You can think of it as a task for me, if that helps.”

Wanderer scoffed. After a breath, Wanderer replied with a crisp, “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

The Dendro Archon looked to Alhaitham. “You will ask others to help you, won’t you?”

“It won’t be just the two of us,” he assured her, handing Kaveh’s split cape to the Dendro Archon. “Keep an eye on him for me.”

She offered him a rather sad sort of smile. “Do your best to return with little injury, as well.”

It went unspoken how bad it would be if Alhaitham never returned.

Alhaitham was unsurprised to see Cyno standing at the bridge to Aaru Village when he and Wanderer arrived. What did surprise him was who was standing next to him.

“I would have expected your duties with Aaru Village would have kept you from helping,” Alhaitham said.

Amusement flickered across Candace’s face. “That explains why I heard about this from Cyno. No, I made arrangements for Aaru Village in my absence after Cyno arrived last night asking about the shooting star. I saw where it fell and assumed it was best to simply join the expedition rather than give you a crude map, especially when he was unable to tell me who all was involved.”

Cyno shifted his weight as he spoke up. “I expect we will find Fatui at the heart of all this. Their activity has been unusually high in the areas where those beams of lights came from.” Cyno nodded towards Wanderer. “And if he is the only other person you’ve managed to get to join us, I would strongly suggest accepting Candace’s offer and have her join us as well.”

“I will not stop her from joining us if that is her choice. Has there been any evidence any of the Harbingers have been present?”

Wanderer snorted behind him as Cyno shook his head. “Not in the areas I’ve checked but that doesn’t mean we won’t find them where the otherworlder fell.”

“You’ll most definitely find one there. This was far too organized to just be some underlings doing their dirty work,” Wanderer put in, sounding a bit too pleased by that fact. Wanderer turned his gaze onto Alhaitham, a flat look crossing Wanderer’s face. “We don’t have time to stand around for pleasantries. Talk while we walk or I’m going on ahead.”

Alhaitham looked to Candace. “Lead the way.”

The trek from Aaru Village dagged and disappeared in equal parts. Once Candace announced they were reaching the area where the otherworlder had landed, they had nearly made it to the border of Sumeru. They walked parallel to the southern border scouring the sands for any sign of the otherworlder and Fatui activity. Wanderer went from walking among the group to using anemo energy to get as high as he could before gliding along their walking path, searching the dunes for any sign they were in the right area.

Wanderer caught sight of the crater at the same time Cyno caught sight of the Fatui. “Wait,” Cyno called out. Candace and Alhaitham stopped immediately. Candace stiffened on the edge of Alhaitham’s vision; she had spotted them before he had.

“The one we’re looking for crash landed a good few miles to the south,” Wanderer said as he landed in the middle of the group. “Doesn’t look like it matters, though. Those Fatui have left a nice line in the sand leading right to the crash site.”

“Is anyone able to make out the otherworlder?” Alhaitham asked, squinting in the direction of the tiny dark shapes off in the distance. The sand under his foot shifted and he found himself sinking knee deep into the dune. “Curses,” he muttered as he pulled himself free. “There’s sand in my shoes.”

Wanderer must have heard him because when he looked up as Cyno started talking, Wanderer was looking at Alhaitham with an incredulous look.

“Not yet but it’ll be dark soon. I say we tail them until they camp or, if they keep going, we use the darkness to our advantage and strike them as they move.”

Candace nodded in agreement. “We’ll only attack once we’ve got eyes on the otherworlder.” She looked to Wanderer. “You will be the fastest out of all of us so it would be best if you are the one to take the otherworlder and run. Cyno and Alhaitham can hold their attention and I will make sure you have cover.”

Wanderer turned his incredulous look onto Candace. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? I mean, the Dendro Archon did vouch for my strength and it’s not like going up against some Fatui underlings is anything new to me.”

“Then you will be able to protect the otherworlder on the off chance any get past me.” Candace looked to Alhaitham and Cyno. “Any objections?”

Alhaitham shook his head. Cyno voiced, “We’ll adapt as we need to. We still don’t know if they have any of the Harbingers with them.”

The Fatui didn’t stop to camp until the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon, a horizon that was only discernible due to the moonlight on the dunes. To Alhaitham’s surprise, Wanderer didn’t say anything about the plan again, not even as they moved to one side of the Fatui camp and Candace and Cyno went to the other.

“I see them,” Wanderer muttered suddenly. At a glance from Alhaitham, Wanderer pointed towards the back of the elongated Fatui camp, towards the darker reaches of the camp itself.

Alhaitham wasn’t sure how he hadn’t spotted them before. The otherworlder practically glowed in the moonlight, a mane of hair that looked nearly white spilling over the edges of whatever they were laid out on. The sheet that covered them looked dull in comparison.

Wanderer shifted in his peripheral, drawing Alhaitham’s gaze again. “Still no sign of any of the Harbingers.” A deep frown pulled across Wanderer’s face, barely visible in the shadow of his hat while his eyes seemed to glow as he met Alhaitham’s gaze. “The shorter the interaction we have with these Fatui, the better.”

Alhaitham was all for making this as short as possible.

He rushed into the air over the camp with a pull of dendro energy. He took half a second to note Cyno and Candace dashing in, illuminated by bursts of electro and hydro energy respectively, before plunging to the camp below. Immediately, dendro energy condensed and the chisel-light mirror already hovering behind and over his left shoulder gained a second as blade shaped dendro projections slammed into the ground, catching two Fatui by surprise and alerting the rest to his presence.

He directed the two chisel-light mirrors around to his front and spat, “Diffract,” as he sent them over the area before him. A small area was contained in dendro including a number of Fatui before reflecting dendro energy within for the few seconds it existed.

He hated the sensation of being nearly depleted of dendro energy.

With the burst spent, Alhaitham darted around and tagged as many of the Fatui as he could with dendro so that Candace and Cyno could cause more damage. Dendro cores started littering the camp Candace’s wake and Cyno’s electro attacks were sending them as sprawling shots into the Fatui.

A burst of anemo illuminated the darker reaches of the camp for a few precious seconds. Alhaitham’s gaze snapped to the area as smaller instances of anemo followed rapidly after. With a final swipe at the Fatui closest to him, he darted forward, tailing Candace as she converged on Wanderer’s location.

Wanderer gave one last vicious slash of anemo before Candace intercepted his assailants. Alhaitham rushed the Fatui at Wanderer’s back. Cyno seemed to come out of nowhere and overwhelmed the Fatui in his place, allowing Alhaitham the chance to make sure Wanderer had the otherworlder and a clear path out.

Alhaitham wasn’t sure what it was that had tipped him off - maybe it was Candace’s gaze locking onto something over his shoulder or maybe he picked up on the person’s presence without realizing it - but he lacked the dendro energy to rush out of harm's way like he instinctively wanted to. Pain ripped through his right side and it was all he could do to not stagger to his knees as the pain stole the strength from his right leg. He grabbed at the injury and was unsurprised when his hand pressed against wet fabric and raw skin. His stomach dropped out as he realized his hand would do little to stifle the bleeding. Something had torn open his side deep enough that just putting pressure on it was going to do absolutely nothing if he kept fighting.

“Fascinating.” He dragged a foot in the sand as he turned to face his assailant, watching as the new arrival twirled some sort of bladed weapon in their gloved hand. The blade glistened red. “I didn’t anticipate you moving so quickly without the use of dendro energy.” The blade snapped still. “I wonder if you can dodge this one, though?”

The new arrival gestured over their shoulder with the blade.

Alhaitham barely had half a second to even see the circle of bright light before a very familiar beam appeared. It was brief yet the camp went unnaturally dark when it vanished. Alhaitham staggered from attempting to dodge but he knew he hadn’t been fast enough on his own. The left side of his face felt like it had been burned and his left shoulder was uncomfortably hot even under the several layers that covered it. With a significant portion of his vision obscured by the afterimage, he barely made out the electro energy being expended as Candace came to his side.

She yanked on his arm towards the direction Wanderer had gone, shouting, “Go! Run!” before throwing herself into the fray to aid Cyno.

A part of him fought the notion of leaving the two of them behind. Logically he knew he couldn’t fight anymore but Cyno and Candace were no match for the new arrival. Not with whatever weapon had been fired at him. Even a glance towards the beam’s trail proved just how destructive that beam of light was. Anything that had been in the beam’s path bore a hole with scorched edges. The dunes beyond the camp had sections sagging and resettling, swaths of glass looking as if they were glittering as the sand shifted around them.

Had Cyno been any later, Alhaitham was certain he would have been killed.

Running was a challenge. While adrenaline had numbed his side, it numbed his legs too. He forced his legs through the motions but it felt like he was struggling through muck, seeming unable to run as fast as he normally would have been. As soon as he had enough dendro energy, he rushed into the air and glided towards the teal blip on the dune ridge that had to be Wanderer. His feet touched sand far too soon but it didn’t matter. He had to keep moving.

It wasn’t until he was nearly on top of them did he realize Wanderer had been followed by two Fatui.

Alhaitham slashed at one before catching the other with a dendro projection, drawing both of their attention to him. It wasn’t until he nearly got hit in the face by one of their attacks that he realized the dark spots in his vision weren’t the afterimage. Even if he suddenly had enough dendro energy for a rush, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to take care of the two in front of him.

Anemo energy overtook one of the Fatui before Alhaitham saw Wanderer land heavily in the sand, his hat returning to its original state. Taking Alhaitham’s place, Wanderer unleashed a burst of anemo energy that knocked one Fatui off their feet and made the other one stagger. Wanderer shoved at him. “Go take care of the otherworlder.” A vicious grin crossed Wanderer’s face. “I’ll deal with them.”

Despite how rapidly Wanderer had appeared, the otherworlder had been carefully placed into the warm sand, situated so that they were propped more as if they were sitting into the leeward side. Wanderer had taken pains to wrap the otherworlder snuggly in the sheet that had been draped over them as well as a second similar piece of fabric. Alhaitham wouldn’t be able to carry the otherworlder as Wanderer had been. He tugged at the wrappings to free the otherworlder’s limbs, leaving behind handprints and streaks of crimson in his wake. His hands shook as he buried his right knee in the sand and tugged at the otherworlder. Their deadweight was surprisingly less than he had expected, being enough pressure on his back for him to know they were still there but light enough that he didn’t actually feel encumbered. Or maybe that was the adrenaline. He hefted them higher on his back as he stood, his arms hooking under their knees to keep them in place.

A beam - larger this time than the one that had been aimed at him - obliterated a clear line through the dunes. For half a second, there was a gaping hole through several dunes and even from where he stood he could tell the beam had bore through the cliffs in the distance. Then gravity took hold of the free hanging sand and pulled.

The sand under his left foot gave way.

A massive portion of the dune was missing. Glass glistened on the edges of the damage and clearly marked where sand stopped and stone began. Be it by design or pure chance, the beam had cut through the dune grazing the top of bedrock. Only, instead of leaving a scrape of barren hard earth, the beam had revealed a cavity in the bedrock with a depth Alhaitham didn’t have time to guess at. The entirety of the dune was collapsing around Alhaitham and he was going down with it.

He pulled the otherworlder to his front and threw open his glider.

Even braced for the brief lurch in movement his vision blackened dangerously as he drifted towards the gaping hole beneath. There was very little he could do to get his vision back without simply waiting. It cleared enough for him to make out a light off towards his left, back in the direction of the Fatui camp.

Searing heat erupted across his upper back as an all too familiar lurch made his stomach drop out. He managed to open one eye enough to see a smudge of white and blue and teal quickly filling his vision before he succumbed to the pain and passed out.
Everything hurt.

His back felt like it was burned, his side felt like it was on literal fire, his pulse was pounding against the inside of his skull- everything hurt.

The worst of it all, though, was the nausea.

He wasn’t sure what had woken him or how he was even awake in the first place. Beyond the pain and the nausea, he was exhausted. It dragged at him, keeping him in a weird limbo between unconscious and alert to the point that he was certain he dreamt at times. There was no way he and Kaveh were out in the desert with him feeling like this but he had this vague impression of Kaveh against his burning side taking his weight, talking like always, - not that he could remember what Kaveh had even said - and the grit of sand in his shoes. There wasn’t enough sand near home for him to have it in his shoes so it had to be the desert; but there had also been so little light and the terrain didn’t give like sand normally did so it definitely had to be a dream.

The nausea got stronger.

He wasn’t going to be able to ignore it for much longer. He knew there was no avoiding it but he didn’t want to be sick. He hated it, hated every bit of it, and the thought of doing it with everything hurting-

Something rubbed at his face, something blessedly cool. It was a struggle to even get his eyes to open so it was no surprise when all he saw was a blur. What he could tell, though, was that Kaveh was beside him, caring for him like he always did.

He hated it. It always felt like he was doing the Empath a disservice by relying on the other to help him when he was sick like this. It wasn’t like Alhaitham couldn't take care of himself.

No, that wasn’t fair to Kaveh. The other man had been adamant about being able to help when Alhaitham was sick, repeating each time Alhaitham fought him on it that it was easier to help him than to let him waste away in his room until he got better. Occasionally Kaveh would mention it was another way to pay Alhaitham back for letting him live in Alhaitham’s home but Alhaitham hated that even more.

The nausea swelled.

He sucked in a breath against it. Kaveh’s hand was on his shoulder, a weight Alhaitham was sure was meant to comfort, but he pushed against it anyway. “G’nnu,” he forced around the nausea, “be sick.”

Kaveh pulled away sharply. Briefly Alhaitham wondered where he was going only to have his entire focus be brought back sharply to the point that he was going to be sick and soon. The only challenge was that moving was going to be nearly impossible as shifting to roll sent waves of agony through him.

The nausea was bolstered by it and he really was going to be sick.

Kaveh - blessed Kaveh - was back and practically manhandled Alhaitham through the pain. Alhaitham tried to quell the nausea long enough but as soon as he was even remotely leaning over, the nausea won out.

How was it possible that everything could hurt more? Tremors skittered down his spine and shook his arms but he couldn’t tell if he was shivering from a fever or from the agony. Kaveh was the only reason he was even remotely upright. His vision swam too much to see if he had managed to not be sick all over Kaveh. “S’rry, Kaveh,” he mumbled, though Kaveh’s name was more like a breath than an actual word.

He flinched as something pressed against his face, not that he got very far. It took too long for his brain to figure out Kaveh was cleaning his face. He tried to keep his head still for the other man but it quickly grew too heavy. His forehead rested against something warm - Kaveh’s shoulder or neck had to be close so it was probably propped there - and unless Kaveh moved him, that was where it was staying.

A new thing pressed against his lips. It startled him back into a weak attempt at awareness.

“Drink.” The word sounded weird, almost like it wasn’t Kaveh’s voice but, no, that wasn’t right. Who else would it be other than Kaveh?

Cool water was tipped into his mouth, disrupting his thoughts as he became hyper aware of how dry his mouth and throat were, how his throat burned, and how good the water tasted. He greedily drank until Kaveh was forced to remove his access to it. “Hey,” was sharp and quick, offended on the edges even, “not so fast or you’re going to make yourself sick again.”

No longer feeling nauseous, exhaustion overwhelmed him. He gave a hum because the words - if any - wouldn’t form even if he tried. Kaveh’s presence and warmth only encouraged the exhaustion and he passed out again.

Waking was slow but his head was clear despite the ache that had settled in it while he had been unconscious. He must have hit his head somewhere on the way down. That or the pain was giving him a headache. His upper back hurt, like it was raw, and fleetingly he wondered if he had scraped it during the dune collapse - would explain how he had hit his head - but it was overshadowed by the injury on his right side.

His entire right side felt like it was on fire, from under his pectoral down into the leg joint and easily halfway into the rest of his torso. Whoever had sliced into him had apparently missed anything vital because he was still alive after however long he’d been unconscious. His pulse was even steady; he could feel it in the depths of his headache.

A shudder skittered down his spine. There was going to be sand in the wound. There was going to be sand everywhere and trying to clean and dress the wound was going to be infuriatingly difficult.

It didn’t matter. He had to get up and get the otherworlder out of there. There was no telling how long until Fatui found them and he had lingered long enough.

Still, though, he allowed himself a few breaths in the hollow ache that gnawed at his chest, indulging in the need to worry after Kaveh as if it would do either of them any good. Had he dreamt between falling into the dune and waking, he would not be surprised to learn it had been about Kaveh with how thick the hollow ache was. Unfortunately, the dream had slipped through his fingers long before he had woken up, leaving him to speculate instead and he could do that while he got the otherworlder and himself somewhere safer.

Opening his eyes only made the world spin around him and he quickly closed them before the spinning could make him nauseous. Right now nausea was the last thing he wanted to deal with, especially with how much his side already hurt. Exhaustion hadn’t left his body as it had his mind. His left arm felt heavy and slow to respond as he raised it. Holding his side was going to be excruciating but he couldn’t risk-

A hand grabbed at his wrist accompanied by a rush of air. Alhaitham’s eyes snapped open as adrenaline erased the weight of his limbs for the heart stopping seconds it took for his vision to steady. “Don’t,” accompanied the grab, and while the word was crisp and sharp, the hostility was feigned at best. Instead of pain or a yank of some fashion, the hand around his wrist was firm but careful to not cause pain as his arm was directed back to his side. The blotch over him, pale and dark in almost equal parts, moved with the unexpected handling. The only thing that kept him from fighting back was the blotch being too small to be one of the Fatui. “You move too much and you ruin all my hard work.”

The voice clicked before his vision cleared and the realization stole the tension from his body.

Wanderer was leaning over him. Once his vision cleared, he could see that the other was without both hat and outer layers, leaving Wanderer to look even smaller than he already was. Wanderer had settled into a sitting position at his side, not that there was much room to be anywhere else. The way the ceiling curved and what walls Alhaitham could see spoke of a small hollow in the stone. If there was any sort of opening, Alhaitham couldn’t see it. There was a single weak source of light somewhere above and to the right of Alhaitham’s head and it left half of Wanderer’s face in shadow until the other faced the light source, messing with something.

“I don’t even know why I talk to you. It’s not like you’re even awake enough to listen to me.” Despite the annoyed - and slightly pained - look on Wanderer’s face when the other turned back, Wanderer’s touch was incredibly gentle as he slipped a hand under Alhaitham’s head and lifted it so Alhaitham could take a drink of what looked like water. His left hand came up again before he could think better on it and Wanderer glared at the offending limb, pressing the bottom of the cup into Alhaitham’s arm to force the limb back to Alhaitham’s side. “What did I just say?”

“C’n m’self,” he managed around a lead tongue and dry throat. Only, the poorly spoken words scratched at his throat and immediately threw him into a coughing fit. The cup was against his lips and water pouring into his mouth before he had managed more than the initial cough. The cool water soothed most of the irritation but the urge to cough didn’t go away. Even when the last of it slid down Alhaitham’s throat, he started coughing again, though with less scratching and sounding a lot less dry.

“Idiot.” Despite the intended bite of the word, Wanderer quickly put the cup down and slipped his arm under Alhaitham’s shoulders. With apparent ease, the smaller had him half upright and turned into Wanderer, protecting Alhaitham’s right side as much as possible.

The fit was short but it irritated everything. Wanderer shifted under him and Alhaithaim braced to be laid back down but instead, a strong smell made him crinkle his nose and urged his mild headache into something that was harder to ignore. Nausea slapped him in the face and he swallowed against it, willing it away before it grew uncontrollable. “What-” he started, before something cold was pressed to the center of the burning on his upper back. He sagged into Wanderer with a low groan as the burning and irritation was soothed by the cool substance. Without so much as a word, Wanderer finished lathering his back before pressing something against the substance, possibly a strip of cloth or hide to keep the substance and burn protected.

It took a good while before he realized he ought to be surprised by the lack of comment, too lost in his relief that Wanderer hadn’t said anything about, well, any of it.

Alhaitham tried to assist Wanderer in laying him back down but when all it did was make his side flare and pull a sharp hiss of pain from him, Wanderer tightened his grip, forcing Alhaitham to give Wanderer his weight again. “The Akademiya's Scribe is a fool,” Wanderer ground out. Even without seeing it, Alhaitham could feel Wanderer glaring at the back of his head. “Your stubbornness is only making it worse. This would be so much easier if you were properly unconscious.”

“I would gladly be unconscious if that was an option,” he drawled back, though his snide remark lacked the bite he intended, making him sound tired. “Unfortunately, I am very much awake.”

Wanderer tensed under him but it was fleeting. “Oh. Good.” Wanderer's voice flattened. “Don’t fight me or I will drop you.”

There was the initial, involuntary flex when Wanderer started moving him but Alhaitham managed to quell it and Wanderer didn’t drop him. As Wanderer’s hand slipped from behind his head, he couldn’t help the fleeting thought that the threat had been an empty one.

It took a moment of Wanderer fiddling with something before Alhaitham managed to word his question. “How long has it been since the dune collapsed?”

“A few days, give or take.” Water was poured into a small container, most likely the cup. “Their little light trick dumped us into a cave system that doesn’t seem to have an exit; well, beyond the hole they bore into it and they’re currently camping that particular exit.”

“Have you managed to explore much of it?”

Wanderer turned back to him with the cup in hand. “Hardly. The Fatui are everywhere and leaving you alone with the otherworlder hasn’t been an option.”

Alhaitham recoiled from the smell, the nausea quickly going from low level to holding the majority of his attention as Wanderer pinned his left hand again. “That smells horrendous,” Alhaitham bit out, glaring at Wanderer.

Wanderer glared back. “It’s supposed to help your injuries but if you’d rather be in pain-”

“I would rather not be sick.”

Wanderer stilled before his gaze shifted to something flat but less abrasive. “You have to get something in you. Your wounds are a hindrance and if you really do end up being sick again, you’re only going to get worse.”

Again? “Dehydration is the main concern-”

Wanderer cut him off. “And so is a lack of energy. I can’t carry you and the otherworlder, now can I? And we both know who I’m ditching when it comes to that.”

Involuntarily, the moment on the balcony where the Dendro Archon was telling him to come home flickered across the forefront of his thoughts. He didn’t need to be reminded of it to know who was the priority here. “Being sick risks making my side worse,” Alhaitham said calmly, albeit tightly. “As long as I'm able to keep down water, anything else can wait until the nausea goes away.”

Wanderer let out a tsk as it seemed Alhaitham won that particular argument. Wanderer sat back, gaze going towards the light source as he moved to deal with the cup. Wanderer’s gaze suddenly narrowed and Alhaitham heard the splash of water on stone as Wanderer rose to his knees.

Alhaitham opened his mouth to ask but Wanderer covered it, pinning Alhaitham’s head in place as Wanderer leaned over him, tugging at something Alhaitham couldn’t see. “We have to move,” Wanderer said, the words barely more than a breath. “I’m going to get you on your feet but you will have to walk on your own.” For a moment, Wanderer’s expression twisted with something Alhaitham couldn’t decipher as the smaller leaned back. “Do what you can to not make your side worse. Don’t need you bleeding out.”

Wanderer grabbed Alhaitham’s left hand and brought it to the injury. Alhaitham noticed the wrappings for the split second before the excruciating pain crashed over him. He was certain he would have screamed had it not been for Wanderer’s hand still covering his mouth. A heavy sweat broke out as he heaved air through his nose, desperately willing the nausea to subside.

Wanderer’s hand slipped from his mouth and he greedily sucked in deeper breaths.

He was going to be sick.

“Don’t let up on the pressure,” Wanderer warned him as Wanderer’s hands moved.

Alhaitham was shivering by the time Wanderer got him on his feet and wrapped a swath of fabric around Alhaitham’s bare torso. Vaguely Alhaitham wondered what had happened to his shirt. His sleeves were missing too. Wanderer leaned him against the wall near the exit before disappearing. He couldn’t quite feel his legs and the nausea had settled into the hollow of his throat, a solid weight that only made his torso feel heavier. When Wanderer returned, it was to pause at his side long enough for Alhaitham to see the otherworlder unconscious in Wanderer’s arms. “Head down the tunnel. I’ll erase any tracks you leave behind.”

Alhaitham shoved off the wall and started to walk.

It was more of a trudge than anything else as feeling never returned to his legs but Wanderer never told him to pick up the pace. The pain in his side subsided to a dull roar but the nausea never calmed down. It made tracking time impossible and the distance feel exponentially longer. He lost himself in the monotony of it to the point that when Wanderer touched his back, he startled and stumbled over his own two feet before Wanderer’s hand found the crook of Alhaitham’s elbow and pulled him to a stop.

“Over here,” Wanderer directed.

Wanderer led Alhaitham to the other side of the tunnel where a narrow crevice was hidden behind a wall of stone. How Wanderer had seen it in the dim tunnel, Alhaitham couldn’t fathom; Alhaitham was barely managing to not run into any walls. Wanderer tucked the otherworlder into the crevice before turning to Alhaitham. “I have to deal with the Fatui tailing us. Are you going to stay standing?” Alhaitham nodded. He felt absolutely horrible but if he sat down, he knew it would only be worse getting up to move again. “Then stay here and stay quiet.”

“Wanderer,” he bit out but the smaller was already slipping back down the tunnel. Alhaitham belatedly realized that Wanderer was wearing his hat again. With a frustrated sigh, he shuffled into the crevice without stepping on the otherworlder and let the stone take his weight.

Alhaitham lost time. The fighting echoed through the tunnel but he couldn’t quite remember if it had been going for a while or had just started by the time he became aware of it. He let it take his attention and tried to track the fight on sound alone.

Something scraped against the stone wall not far from the crevice’s entrance and Alhaitham’s mouth went dry. With adrenaline surging through his veins, he slowly took his weight off the wall. His legs felt like they were quaking under him even though he could hardly feel them but he barely noticed, all of his attention on the crevice entrance. He didn’t dare summon his sword but he pooled the necessary energy to do so in his hand, ready to pull it out of subspace at the first hint of an enemy.

A shadow filled the entrance and Alhaitham tensed.

There was a flash of light that was quickly followed by a cry, though be it of pain or anger, Alhaitham couldn’t tell. The shadow disappeared only to be replaced by another.

“Cry louder!” filled the crevice with a burst of anemo that tugged vehemently at Alhaitham. He sagged back against the wall, recognizing that shout more than he had expected to.

The fight wore on but that was the only altercation near the crevice. Alhaitham jolted upright when something touched his arm but only found Wanderer standing in the remaining crevice space. Wanderer looked a bit battered but whole, even a touch pissed as the scowl faded. “All clear. Come on.”

Alhaitham stepped out of the crevice and settled against the wall so that he could watch Wanderer. Be it exhaustion or a lack of caring, Alhaitham found the pair of words that had been dancing among his thoughts slip off his tongue. “Hat Guy.”

Wanderer’s head whipped around, confusion and apprehension warring on the smaller’s expression despite the sharp smirk Wanderer sent his way. “What you do; hit your head while you were in here?”

“Ah, no.” Alhaitham dug the heel of a hand into an eye, trying to stave off the pressure of a headache. “I was trying to figure out why you looked familiar since the night on the balcony.” Wanderer gained a flat look and Alhaitham was oddly reminded of Kaveh. “I am aware of the irregularity with my lack of recall after Jiwani and the Emerites-”

“Two weeks ago,” Wanderer snapped, standing abruptly. His grip on the otherworlder was sure; the unconscious figure didn’t even shift with the jarring movement. “You’re expecting me to believe you forgot about someone in a matter of days-”

Alhaitham cut him off, too tired to deal with an argument. “I am aware of how it sounds. I can assure you, you are not special in this.” Wanderer’s expression darkened. “Even if I hadn’t been sick shortly after the event, I would have had a hard time placing where I knew you from. Names are far easier to remember than the faces that go with them.” He met Wanderer’s glare head on, reiterating with a bitter tone, “I don’t forget people and their actions; I forget their faces.”

Wanderer’s gaze narrowed and for a moment, they stood there before Wanderer huffed and looked away. “Whatever. Keep going that way.”

When Wanderer stopped him again, the smaller got in front of him and slowed to a stop. The tunnel was crossing several others in quick succession but instead of just continuing down any number of them, Wanderer’s gaze drifted around almost as if he was listening for something.

The sound of running water drifted from the tunnel opening just behind Alhaitham’s right shoulder.

“You hear it too.” Alhaitham looked back at Wanderer and found an interested expression focused on the tunnel. “Let’s see if we can find its source.”

The tunnel floor went from sand to stone before long and Wanderer moved to take the lead. It wasn’t until Alhaitham felt something brush against his head that he noticed the tunnel was shrinking slowly around them. Wanderer glanced back when Alhaitham started to drag a hand along the ceiling but said nothing. Alhaitham wondered if he looked as sick as he felt.

“Here.” Alhaitham jerked to a stop half hunched in the ever shrinking tunnel coming out of the daze he had been walking in. Wanderer was moving away towards the left but there was no risk of losing sight of him. The tunnel had come to an end into a pocket that had a high ceiling and was significantly wider than the tunnel. Crystals glowing with some sort of light sporadically jutted out from the walls, the selfsame crystals that had been sparsely illuminating the tunnel they had been walking down. A significant amount of water was pouring into the space from the wall Wanderer was approaching, creating a pool at the base of the wall before flowing towards the opposite wall and through a crack in the stone. The widest portion of that stretch of underground river Alhaitham could almost step over if he wanted to. That wide portion also looked incredibly shallow, possibly no more than ankle deep.

“Hey.” He looked over from where he still stood hunched over with a hand on the ceiling. Whatever expression Wanderer wore, Alhaitham couldn’t make it out and the smaller’s words gave nothing away. “I won’t be able to catch you if you collapse way over there.”

Wanderer had situated the otherworlder into a nook near the pool by the time Alhaitham managed to join him. Wanderer stood and without a word wrapped his arms around Alhaitham’s chest and took his weight. It wasn’t the most graceful descent but Wanderer was steady under him and made sure Alhaitham didn’t end up injuring himself more.

“I’m going to take care of the otherworlder’s injuries first.” Wanderer shoved something edible into Alhaitham’s hand and situated a cup of water within reach. “Eat that and drink all of the water.” Wanderer glared at him. “And don’t fight me on it. I’m not above forcing you.”

Alhaitham raised the edible thing - he knew what it was but the name eluded him - and took a bite of the shaped rice ball. The rice was mildly fragrant and he was grateful there was no filling.

Wanderer watched him until he took a second bite before turning to the otherworlder.

“How bad are their injuries?” Alhaitham asked before popping the last bite of rice into his mouth and picking up the cup.

“Serious but nothing as life threatening as the one you’ve got. Anything that could bleed was cauterized by that beam and now it’s just making sure the scabs don’t dry out.”

Wanderer picked up an unwrapped otherworlder who was bare except for what looked like skin tight shorts and kicked off his shoes before stepping into the pool. Immediately Wanderer was crotch deep in the water as he was forced to sit on the edge to try and reach the bottom with his foot. Seemingly unbothered by the situation, Wanderer simply eased the otherworlder into the water until he was able to get a hand free. In the blink of an eye, Wanderer was in the water as well, the level settling just below his ribs as he floated the otherworlder about. After a moment of wandering the small pool, Wanderer situated the otherworlder on the stretch leading to the other end of the cavern just before the underground river flattened out.

The water darkened as Wanderer washed the otherworlder’s injuries, the darkened water swirling around the pair before being caught in the current and sent downstream. Wanderer’s description of the otherworlder’s injuries had been severely lacking. The entirety of the otherworlder’s left side was completely charred as was most of their back. Portions of the injury were a raw red, almost as if they were bleeding without actually bleeding, and most of the charred areas looked like they had deep, painful cracks running all throughout. There were two other burns, one covering the right shin and another on the right side of their neck that stretched over the top of their shoulder and caught the bottom of their ear.

“Have they woken at all?” Alhaitham asked.

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

Alhaitham finished off the water. The cup clattered a bit louder against the stone than he had intended. “Hopefully that means they are oblivious to the pain.”

The sounds of the running water and Wanderer moving about the pool did little to keep the exhaustion from pulling him under.

“Hey, wake up.” Alhaitham blinked blearily at Wanderer as the smaller pushed another onigiri into his hand. “Finish that while I finish up with the otherworlder.”

Seemed his brain finally woke up, not that he was sure how he had forgotten the name of the shaped rice ball to begin with. Alhaitham lifted the onigiri and took a bite, finding to his surprise more than just rice this time. Hunger gnawed at him and he took a larger bite. Wanderer, with a satisfied look, put another onigiri on Alhaitham’s chest before going back to the otherworlder.

It wasn’t until he bit into the second one that he realized the nausea was gone for the first time in far too long. Instead, the gnawing hunger had taken its place and he was not about to complain about that.

Wanderer smeared a substance over the otherworlder's injuries before protecting the injuries and rewrapping the otherworlder. Alhaitham suddenly realized why Wanderer was missing his outerwear: he had used it as bandages.

“Nausea’s gone, then?” Wanderer asked as he squatted at Alhaitham’s side. Wanderer seemed oddly subdued. Maybe it was exhaustion.

“For the time being.” Alhaitham flinched when Wanderer pressed on the bandage covering his side, though the pain was less than he had expected. Wanderer must not have pressed on the gash itself.

Wanderer’s expression tightened. “I have to wash it again.”

Alhaitham flinched again and it wasn’t because of Wanderer’s touch. “It can wait,” he said because it had to wait. He couldn’t deal with that sort of pain right now, not when the nausea had finally subsided and he was being able to eat. Wanderer’s expression held an apprehension he found himself echoing. Not unless they didn’t have a choice. “Unless we can’t stay.”

Wanderer shook his head. “We don’t have to move yet but I’d rather not push our luck anymore than I have to.” Wanderer stood up. “See if you can get some more sleep, then. I’ve got bandages to wash anyway.”

Oh. It was the abrasiveness. For some reason, Wanderer wasn’t being the abrasive stranger he had been earlier. Alhaitham wondered if it really was due to exhaustion or if a part of Wanderer’s abrasiveness was for show.

Time was impossible to track without something more substantial than running water and Wanderer washing things in the pool. Alhaitham wasn’t sure if it had taken a matter of seconds or a good portion of an hour to pass out again but it felt as if he had just fallen asleep when pain flared in his side and dragged him back awake. A breathy noise escaped him as he shifted about as if it would alleviate the pain, but Wanderer’s hands found his shoulder and abdomen, the smaller’s words not far behind. “You’re ok; it’s just the bandage. It’s sticking.” Wanderer held Alhaitham’s watery gaze for a moment before sitting back, his right hand ghosting over the wound. “Seems like you’re going to have to be awake for this.” Wanderer stood up. “The water is warmer than it looks and it would probably do you some good to get a proper wash. Soaking the bandage might help remove it.”

It wasn’t until silence stretched between them that he realized Wanderer was waiting for some sort of reply. “You’re…what, asking for permission? If I had remained unconscious, you would have simply moved me into the pool without hesitation.”

Wanderer glared at him but it was negated by how tense the other had become. “I can leave you in your own blood and sweat if you want. I don’t have to be doing any of this for you.”

It was the first time Alhaitham saw Wanderer be put on edge not by a threat, but by embarrassment. It was…strangely reassuring. It gave the aloof stranger that Wanderer was a more human appearance. It lent to the impression that Wanderer wanted to help but the abrasive persona that the other was maintaining wouldn’t allow for such soft emotions. It was a rather endearing impression even if it wasn’t accurate.

It made him think of Kaveh.

He hoped Kaveh was ok.

Alhaitham carefully rested his left hand on his injury. “I would appreciate the assistance, if you are willing to give it.”

It wasn’t until Wanderer started pulling off Alhaitham’s shoes that he realized the other part of Wanderer’s unease with the whole situation. The next moment was going to be oddly intimate for both of them, especially since this would be the first time Alhaitham was properly coherent during such care. Alhaitham was very much aware of how much help he was going to need to just get into the pool, let alone tending to anything else, and while Wanderer certainly wasn’t at the top of his list of people he’d want helping, he certainly wasn’t near the bottom either.

That did not stop heat from filling his face as Wanderer placed his hands on Alhaitham’s thighs and said with that familiar abrasive edge, “Unless you want wet pants, I’m taking these off.”

“I know.” Both a lie and the wrong words. There was no point in sharing that he had not in fact realized that was going to be a part of the whole process and simply corrected his statement. “I would rather have dry pants, especially if we have to leave before they have a chance to dry.”

He went to add more but Wanderer was already moving. “Fantastic.” It sounded sarcastic but the abrasiveness was gone again. “Resist helping if you can. I don’t want to deal with your side bleeding freely again on top of everything.”

Wanderer made quick work of stripping Alhaitham of his pants, even taking care to shake them out and do a quick fold before setting them aside. The pants ended up being the only hiccup as Wanderer helped Alhaitham up and into the pool with no comment beyond the occasional direction.

The water was indeed warmer than Alhaitham had expected. The water flowing into the pool from the wall was cold but a secondary flow was obviously heated. Wanderer didn’t give Alhaitham a chance to figure out where the heated water was seeping in from. The moment Wanderer had Alhaitham in the pool properly, he was pulling Alhaitham back and off his feet, forcing Alhaitham to float on his back as Wanderer dragged him to the same spot he had washed the otherworlder in. The water there was the perfect warmth that nearly had Alhaitham asleep again as Wanderer moved him onto a submerged shelf of sort off angle from the downstream flow.

“I need to wash your back.”

Alhaitham lifted his head out of the water and moved to roll over, forgetting for a moment that Wanderer would do it for him. Wanderer’s hands found his chest and arm, stalling his movement long enough for the smaller to get into a better position. Sure enough, Wanderer didn’t let Alhaitham help and rolled him onto his stomach, ever mindful of injuries. Alhaitham did tuck his left arm under his head, though, to keep his head out of the water as Wanderer got to work.

Pain prickled on his back not unlike washing a still partially raw sunburn. Even being in the half asleep state the water had lulled him into wasn’t enough to keep the sensation from drawing his attention, especially when he couldn’t immediately recall what had happened to his back. He remembered the dune collapsing beneath his feet and was fairly certain he had handled the situation properly but what exactly he had done to his back wasn’t coming to mind.

“Seems the food actually did something,” Wanderer commented, breaking the silence with a voice that was quieter than Alhaitham had expected. “This doesn’t look like it’s part of the otherworlder anymore.”

‘Part of the otherworlder’? Alhaitham opened his eyes but found his need to ask after the comment suddenly lacking. In quick succession, the thoughts of the otherworlder went to the otherworlder’s injuries which had to be the only point of similarity which also meant that at some point one of those beams had caught him across the back of his shoulders.

Wanderer stilled in the water beside him. He looked back, finding a curious but closed off look on Wanderer’s face. “You don’t remember getting hit by it.”

Alhaitham frowned. Had he said something or had Wanderer just picked up on Alhaitham’s realization? Not that it mattered now. He settled against the stone in lieu of shrugging. “No.” No, wait. That wasn’t accurate. He could half remember throwing open his glider and it failing shortly thereafter, but it was such a vague impression, he wasn’t sure if it was real. “Not completely. A lot after I was stabbed is hazy, especially around the dune collapsing. I remember the sand giving out underfoot but that’s about it. I had assumed I had hit my head and back but that left a gap of time I couldn’t account for.”

Alhaitham didn’t even notice the silence between them until Wanderer spoke again what had to have been minutes later. “They shot two beams at us,” Wanderer said, his voice sure but only loud enough to fill the small space around them. “The first took out the dune beneath you.” A pause, like Wanderer was pulling in a breath. “The second caught you across the back.” Wanderer’s tone shifted into something more teasing, something sharper. Abrasive. “Whatever glider you had doesn’t exist anymore. Hope you weren’t attached to it.”

Alhaitham opened his eyes and watched the water lap at the pool’s edge for a moment before looking back at Wanderer. “Where were you?”

Wanderer stilled, hands carefully splayed over Alhaitham’s back. There was a shuttered look to Wanderer’s expression even with how neutral the other had managed to make it. “Above you.” Wanderer blinked and went back to washing Alhaitham’s back, hands rubbing beyond the injury to clear off grime and whatever else clung to him. The touch remained firm enough to clean but gentle enough that it could be counted as caring. “Was expecting to grab the otherworlder from a dead body when I dived after you.”

There was a flicker of a smudge of white and blue and teal across his memory with the echo of pain. “How was landing with both of us?”

Wanderer pressed a hand to the front of Alhaitham’s hip and gripped Alhaitham’s arm, giving Alhaitham just a second to register what Wanderer was doing before he was flipped over. “I managed not to injure you both more, at least.”

Alhaitham flinched as Wanderer’s fingers slipped under the bandages even though no pain followed the action. He forced himself to relax, to keep talking. “What about yourself?”

Wanderer shrugged but didn’t answer. Instead, Wanderer gave him a hard look. “I’m going to start pulling this off. Do your best to not scream.”

“Do your best to not hurt me.” It came out with far less bite than he had intended. He wasn’t even sure he had managed to keep his unease out of his words either.

Surprisingly, Wanderer’s expression softened. “Of course. I’m not cruel.”

Alhaitham leaned his head back and closed his eyes, unable to keep the stress from showing with how deliberate he kept his breathing. Wanderer’s fingers against Alhaitham’s skin held Alhaitham’s attention. He desperately tried to get his mind to focus on his breath or something - anything - that wasn’t Wanderer’s fingers but his mind wouldn’t relent. He was hyper-aware of Wanderer tugging at the bandages, unwrapping what he could until something snagged. Alhaitham’s breath hitched as faint pain skittered along the injury from the slight tug. Wanderer seemed to pause over him but when Alhaitham forced his breathing to continue, the other started to work the bandage free. No matter how slow and careful Wanderer was, the pain increased and started to dig deep into his side, sending a weird numbness into the rest of his body. More than anything, nausea was coiling in his gut stealing what little attention remained.

Wanderer’s hand - heavy and warm - splayed over the center of his chest; Alhaitham gripped at it, not even realizing he had done so until he registered air on his wet hand. “Hey, I’m almost done but you need to keep breathing for me.”

Alhaitham sucked in a breath through his nose, held it, and breathed out through his mouth only to hold that exhale before breathing in through his nose again. He hated it, hated breathing like that, but all he could remember was Kaveh walking him through those very steps over and over during the harder moments while he had been sick and how it seemed to work to some level. Every little tug disrupted his thoughts, though, and he would lose focus. Wanderer’s voice suddenly filled the air as a rumble of directions to be followed. The smaller counted and directed him through the breathing steps until the words all muddled together in his head with the nausea and half pain and-

“Done. It’s off,” Wanderer said abruptly, breaking into Alhaitham’s churning thoughts. Wanderer gave Alhaitham’s hand a squeeze; he realized Wanderer hadn’t pulled his hand out from under his and had instead curled his fingers around Alhaitham’s own. “I still have to make sure it's clean but I’ll need my hand back for that. I need to get the injury out of the water.”

He didn’t want to let go. It was an irrational desire to hold on to some semblance of a safety tether and he knew it but it still took longer than he cared for to let go. Wanderer didn’t say anything about it and simply moved Alhaitham higher on the ledge, adjusting him slightly to get the entirety of the injury out of the water. The nausea settled thick in Alhaitham’s chest.

“It looks better than the last time I looked at it,” Wanderer said, fingers pressing along the injury and drawing out a pained gasp from Alhaitham. He was sure Wanderer hadn’t actually touched anything raw but it had certainly felt like it. “There’s some bleeding but it looks like it’s probably from the bandage sticking more than anything else.”

“That’s good,” Alhaitham managed to ground out.

Wanderer’s hand found his chest again for a brief moment. “I’m going to make sure it’s clean now. Try to bear with it.”

The nausea spiked as the weird numbness rushed through him. He did what he could to keep the nausea in his throat but it was a losing battle. If Wanderer didn’t finish soon, Alhaitham was going to be sick regardless if the other was done or not.

The world moved without him.

What little hold he had on the nausea broke and he was immediately sick. It was short lived - thankfully - but the nausea still sat in his throat so thick he wasn’t sure why his body thought it was done.

Something pressed against his chest. Confused, Alhaitham opened his eyes to find himself on his good side with Wanderer’s hip against the center of his back. He realized it was Wanderer’s arm draped over his chest only when it moved as Wanderer looked down at him. There was something tight in Wanderer’s expression. “I have to touch it again; I’m not quite done yet.”

Alhaitham closed his eyes at that. Of course there was. “Then finish,” he bit out, his breathing picking up.

Wanderer didn’t give him a warning. The nausea thick in his throat overwhelmed him but the weird numbness was faster and stole his consciousness instead. If he ended up sick a second time, he couldn’t remember it as he came to.

Wanderer had returned him to where he had been laying - or close enough to - with dry bandages wrapped around his middle. Wanderer was shoving Alhaitham’s left shoe back on when the smaller noticed Alhaitham watching him through half lidded eyes. “All clean and bandaged up,” Wanderer said, finishing with Alhaitham’s shoe. “Still nauseous?”

Yes but not in the way Wanderer was asking about. “Hungry.”

Wanderer gave him a skeptical look as the smaller settled at his side. “You’re hungry?”

Alhaitham shrugged his left shoulder. He was too tired to explain the oddity that was most of him. It didn’t seem that Wanderer had been looking for an actual answer anyway as he pulled a pair of onigiri from subspace and placed them on Alhaitham’s chest before grabbing a pair for himself. Silence settled between them as they ate and Alhaitham let his thoughts wander. For the first few moments his thoughts drifted over the subject of subspace storage and how different their situation would have been had any of them required a bag to carry food and water at minimum. This water source would have been a godsend and any food would have had to have been scavenged. Not to mention the healing energy some crafted foods carried would have been sorely lacking in whatever food they would have found.

Alhaitham looked at the last of his second onigiri. “Do these have healing energy?”

Wanderer popped the last of a fourth onigiri in his mouth. “Not as much as you clearly need.” Wanderer pulled out another pair and placed them on Alhaitham’s chest. “I’m not a healer and these have lost what potency I had managed to get in them.”

Alhaitham let the onigiri sit on his chest as Wanderer stood and moved towards the otherworlder. There were many aspects of the subspace storage system that was still being studied, including how it kept things fresh far longer than what should be possible yet drained healing energy from the food the longer the food remains within. If he remembered correctly, the research team on that particular study had just applied for more funding. Hopefully it had been approved.

Fabric fluttered over him, startling him out of his thoughts. Wanderer either hadn’t noticed or completely ignored Alhaitham’s jerk back to alertness and snagged the uneaten onigiri before settling the fabric over Alhaitham’s shoulders. “Go back to sleep sleep. I’m going to see how close the Fatui have gotten and probably divert them while I’m at it.”

“Don’t do anything too reckless.”

Wanderer snorted as he stood, his reply cocky but less abrasive that before. “Please. As if I would do anything as stupid as risk my neck for you two.”

[ArtisticVicu]

RPA Fall Event 2023
An Assortment of Writings

"Reality hits you when a burnt orange leaf twirls down from above and brushes against your right shoulder. No. This is definitely not Downtown.

You are in a glen. Alone.

Only soft buzzing noises and a gently bubbling brook accompany you. You feel welcome in this glen; the fates did bring you here for a reason after all. Fairy tales spring to mind as you wander the faint worn paths through the glen. Tales of fae creatures, of hags, brownies and spirits. How they all communicate with the human world through fae circles. Perfect circles made of mushrooms or other things. Circles that did not look natural in their construction...more like they were planted purposefully by magical hands.

Will you dare to cross into the circles? Who knows what lies within..."

RPA Fall Event 2023 was a small writing event. Within the event, there were a number of writing events. Some were single piece entries that had a prompt and word limits, others had several chances to participate throughout the month. Each section contains the content for that given event.

Each event entry was written to a different word count or equivalent cap as per the rules of the event. Black Cauldron Circle (Writing Marathon) had different caps for each entry.

Miasmic Green Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts)
In order to get out of the magic circle you entered, you'll have to make your way through the decrepit mansion you've found yourself trapped within. Do well to meet the tasks of the deceased head on or who knows what the ghosts will do. Prompts will be posted weekly. Stories should be 2 to 6 paragraphs long.

Tell me a dark tale, what happened when the lights went out?

Instinct stopped her feet but there was no fear in the action. She dragged Apollo’s leash through her hand, directing the dog back to a tight heel position. He willingly complied and she only half noticed as her graze drifted across what had once been her brightly lit street. Voices of those who had been outside enjoying the warmer evening drifted on the faint breeze. Candles and flashlights started brightening windows and porches but due to the street being tucked away from any major thoroughfare, those would be the only bits of light the street would see for a while. She wasn’t surprised when a house a street over was suddenly illuminated; the owner’s vehicle had been decked out with a whole array of lights in addition to the standard pair of headlights. Her hand covered the glowing home easily as she tipped her head back, seeking out the night sky above.

The moon was barely a sliver in the eastern horizon allowing the stars to shine bright and the sky was filled with them. The Milky Way was a massive streak of color across the sky far clearer than she had ever seen it in person, let alone in the heart of civilization. It was absolutely breathtaking and she stood there staring at it until her neck couldn’t handle the position anymore.

Apollo - eternally patient and the bestest of boys - had laid down on her feet content with her not moving as he had been with their walk not a moment ago. A smile spread across her face as she tugged a foot out from under him and rubbed his fluffy head when it came up at her movement. He got up without a command on her part and she started them back on the path home.

The lights being out certainly made things challenging when there was no moon to offer more substantial light than the stars alone. She would have missed her home completely had her neighbors not already been on their porch with their candles still lit. Quite a few more had been added to the railings in the time she had been star gazing and quite a few other bodies had joined the few that had already been there. The larger cluster called after her to check on her and she assured them that she would be fine and had quite enough light sources to navigate the darkness long enough to get to bed.

A seemingly absolute darkness closed in around her as the front door closed behind her yet years of repetition made it easy for her fingers to find the deadbolt and lock the door in a single motion. Apollo shook himself out when she freed him from his harness and the metal rings of his collar softly clinked together as he padded towards the kitchen for some water. Hanging up the harness was a bit harder but she did manage to at least find the hook without too much struggle and her shoes were kicked off haphazardly next to the door before she followed after Apollo, her right hand absentmindedly following the wall. In theory the flashlight on top of the fridge should still have some battery life left.

Adrenaline pinpricked its way down her spine as the wall ended at the kitchen. Her finger tips landed on a cool stone counter as she stilled, straining to hear or see whatever had sent goosebumps up her arms. There had been something there, something had caught her attention and not in the good way. At least, she thought there had been. Maybe she had been mistaken? But, then, why couldn’t she hear Apollo drinking or moving about on the hardwood and linoleum? Whatever it was moved faster than she could because she got the glimpse of a shape out of the corner of her eye before she knew no more, one of many victims to fall before the lights came back on.
Before you is a silver cloche. You hesitate to place your hand upon it, and after a moment you remove the dome - what is on the plate beneath? It could be a food item, an object, a means of escape, or retaliation. What do you do?

Despite the obvious attempts to free the silver from the tarnish, it clung to the crevices of the ornate handle and along the edges of the embossed design that covered the dome. The design on both dome and handle was flora in nature but the true intent of the design was hard to discern. The tarnished silver was cold to the touch, as if the winter chill had slipped through the walls and had ingrained itself into the silver, but it did not sink its icy teeth in as snow or biting wind would. The cloche came off the covered dish without a sound in part due to the care to make sure it didn’t connect with whatever lay beneath.

A porcelain plate lay beneath, meticulously placed so that the design along the wide rim was straight compared to the table setting. Painted intricate ivy created a makeshift border, isolating the painting of a fox chasing a rabbit all around the dish into four distinct little scenes. Not a single one showed the rabbit caught so there had to be some sort of good omen there. Much like the cloche, time was evident in the plate as well. Despite how vibrant the paint still was and how well tended the porcelain appeared, crackling was evident all along the rim and into the body of the plate itself. At first it came off as an aesthetic choice as parts of it looked reglazed but the far edge of the plate had a few small places where it was clear it was not.

The items on the plate were peculiar. None of it was food, which was both relieving and disheartening. It was a relief to not be tempted by the food of fae or other planer beings where hidden rules lay but the lack of food and the unknown length until one’s next meal certainly made it a bittersweet relief. Still, the plate held items and it was hard to tell if they were brought by desire or placed there as a test. The largest of the items was a book, though the book itself wasn’t overly big; it counted more as a pocket journal than an actual book in size, at least. Additionally there was an old tarnished gold key, a fountain pen that looked to be made out of a dark green gem and real gold that seemed to be the most well kept item on the plate, and a simple compass on a broken chain.

A thick desire to touch all of the items, to take and to keep, invades the brain and trickles down the spine, making fingers tingle with the desire to move. It takes a moment but not a long one to shove the sensation away. The items belonged to someone else and to take them would be wrong. They had been offered which meant touching to inspect and be curious about was permitted but taking was off the table unless explicitly stated.

Still, it didn’t stop the heart from clenching in anticipation as the compass was picked up first.

When nothing happens, the compass is closely examined and rotated about in careful fingers. The needle is steady as the compass is rotated clockwise but there is no telling if its truly pointing north. The pen is heavier than expected when picked up and the stone the pen is made out of truly looks like a dark green gemstone like emerald or equivalent. Something precious and rich in color, at the bare minimum. The gold made up the pen clip, nib holder, and nib and looked well tended to. It was strange it hadn’t been presented in its box. The key was heavy but beyond the intricate weave of the bow into the shank, it was just another key to a door somewhere. The book held the most interest for there was no telling what was hidden beneath the cover. The leather was old and worn far more than at first glance and the design on the front was faded from either wear or weight. Inside the pages were thick and heavy as if made by hand and each one was heavily covered with handwriting. Diagrams and illustrations accompanied a lot of the writings and there were even tufts of fur, pressed flora, and additional pieces of paper attached to or tucked between pages. This surely would be the greatest boon in telling any tale; it would certainly be a treat to glimpse even a few of its pages before it would be returned to the plate undamaged with the rest of the items.
Who was this woman? What happened to her in life? What happened to her portrait in death?
CW: Ending remarks nod towards suicidal thoughts but no conclusion is written.

If ever given the moment to be truly honest, she would have admitted that everything was a twisted sort of luck. From an uneventful childhood to marrying into money - to a husband that wasn’t abusive in any way, no less - life had been generous in its good fortune, but there were caveats. For an uneventful childhood, her parents hadn’t been able to truly love her and nurture her as she had needed. For picking a man for his money alone, she lucked out that he wasn’t abusive but he didn’t love her like she had wanted. For years she played the part of highborn and well educated, purveyor of the finer things in life with a good head about money and goods alike. For years she did as was expected of a lady of her status and found life to be hollow because of it.

For a loveless marriage, she bore no children. He never pushed the matter, already having a sibling’s kid written in as his ‘heir’, but it made the house seem even emptier. Oftentimes the only companionship she found was in the hired staff. They were always pleasant and kind to her, though she suspected a lot of that had to do with them being employed, but she drank up the pseudo-compassion and reveled in it. That is until she met her; one Vanessa Farris.

Vanessa Farris had been hired to work with the horses - the one hobby she actually enjoyed anymore - and they had met on Vanessa’s first day. To her, Vanessa was like any other staff, except Vanessa reminded her of the horses she loved so much. Wild looking yet every move a show of strength and elegance, Vanessa quickly became her fascination. And her husband’s, though she had been too blinded by her own bewitchment to even notice.

Vanessa seemed to genuinely reciprocate her curiosity and infatuation, gladly joining her on rides and luncheons, that she had thought Vanessa loved her back. That had been why she had confessed to Vanessa, laying her heart bare on one such ride after months of sorting out her feelings. Vanessa had reacted with tears of joy and happily kissed her back but after everything that had happened, she couldn’t remember it well enough to pick it apart in search of the lie. She found her husband and Vanessa in the barn talking of marriage and children, of eloping much as she had wanted to suggest to Vanessa as their relationship went on. She found them enjoying each other’s company, passionate in a way he had never been with her, touching in a way Vanessa had never touched her. It destroyed what little had been left of her humanity.

Or maybe that was just an excuse to try and sooth the guilt. Not that she was certain there was any guilt left. She had maintained enough sanity to plot and plan and patiently wait until she was able to make sure the only things that burned were those two and the barn itself. Her horses were safe, sent off to new homes, and it wouldn’t be long until the fire was put out and two bodies were found among the rubble. What she couldn’t seem to understand, though, was why she had a knife in hand. She had obviously shredded her own portrait but she couldn’t quite figure out why or where she had even gotten the knife from or when she had grabbed it. Maybe she should burn the whole place down.

No, that would be a waste. Besides, she was too tired to try and plan that out. Maybe she should go sleep. Would eternal sleep finally bring her what she wanted? Would anyone be waiting for her if she did join them? Did it matter? Life certainly didn’t care about her enough to give her more than the bare minimum.
You have felt the hatred of the house, but now - tell us what lies beyond that final set of doors? What awaits you on the other side? Freedom or something else? Write in the guest book.

To what extent can an inanimate object truly feel emotions? Does it gain some form of sentience as it is fed the emotions of those closest to it or does it simply reflect what it was exposed to over however long it takes for such incorporeal things to take root? Wandering through this home has certainly not answered my questions, though the emotions that have lingered are no less potent than when they first manifested, I would think. Be them remnants of souls, the house’s own doing, or something more that we have yet to understand, the rooms and halls I have passed through have certainly not been happy ones.

Yet, even without knowing if the house has sentience or not, if it is souls or echoes that remain here, my heart breaks for the suffering that I have seen despite the fear I have felt. To know such pain has been felt so potently to leave a mark, to know that so many souls have passed through here and have suffered such, I wish it was able to fill the home with love and understanding, to help soothe the pain and hurt so that unseen wounds can begin to heal.

But, then again, that may only my bleeding heart seeking to help others in the hopes of healing itself.

I will not lie and say I know what lies beyond those oak doors. It can be the freedom I hope it is as easily as something even worse than my travels through this wounded home I fear it might be as easily as being the same, heavy hearted mundane I’m expecting it to be. Regardless, I will handle what may come in the same manner I have with this very home: with caution, curiosity, and compassion.

For any who may follow in my stead: do not lose heart. Should what lay beyond the doors be only more of the same, know that you have made it this far - be it on your own or with others - and you will be able to take on what comes next. It might be difficult and trying but I have every faith in your capacity to handle it well.

Still, though. Please don’t forget to take a break when safety is afforded you. It is certainly not easy to take care of one’s well-being here and very little should stop you from taking care of yourself. Especially in such situations. Whatever lays beyond those doors will still be there when you are ready and able to face it head on.
Translucent Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts)

The fae creature’s mirror has gifted you with a writing prompt. Dare you take up her challenge? Please create a short story either beginning with or inspired by the quote prompt. Entries should be between 100 and 1000 words.

Each piece is a different story.

This story begins with a letter.

Now, mind you, the letter itself is inconsequential. It is nothing more than the catalyst for everything else that follows; however, had the letter not been written for a purpose that it would inevitably never fill, our story wouldn’t exist. The people that were meant to meet would never meet and the entire plot of our story would cease to exist.

Fortunate for us, the letter is written and handed to the young soul tasked with carrying it to the recipient. Our young soul - a boy of no more than 14 years named Nick - took the letter and did very well in making sure it remained undamaged and unread. Unfortunately, young Nick is not destined to become a hero on this journey, nor is he destined to see his task completed. Barely days into his journey, the caravan he had joined was ambushed and his life was brought to a swift end. The letter, safely tucked into the lining of his bag, went unnoticed in among the rest of the other looted belongings.

The lush fields Nick had known so well gave way to burning sand. The bag the letter resided in had been emptied of anything important but one of the ambushers - a man in his prime of unknown years named Doran - had kept it for it had been a new bag when Nick had started his short journey. Though Doran didn’t put it to use, he tucked it in among his own belongings until he made it home. At this point, the letter was four months into its journey and had nary a chance of ever reaching the hands of the intended recipient.

The recipient of the bag, however, was Doran’s youngest niece, Jenna. Having just entered her seventh year of life, Jenna had been thrilled with the gift, happily giving her uncle a tight hug before rushing off to the bedroom she shared with her five older siblings. With the swiftness of a determined child, she quickly filled the bag with the small collection of treasures she had gathered over the years - a collection she had stashed beneath a loose stone in the floor under the bedding. It was a child’s collection so don’t fret too terribly about what exactly she deemed worthy of hiding; none of it was any more substantial than the letter still hidden in the lining of her new bag.

Besides, that collection would change as our young Jenna aged. It would go from interesting stones and straw dolls to scarce supplies and the occasional pilfered food from merchant carts in the short eight months that followed. During the ninth month, Jenna would lose the bag as she raced through the city attempting to avoid being killed by invaders. Whether Jenna lived or died is for another time. Instead, the bag is once again rifled through and tossed aside where it would remain for two weeks before the soul we have been waiting for finally stumbled across it.

Now, something you must know about the soul that finds the bag this time. They are not quite like most other protagonists in these sort of stories. Usually the protagonist is a youth of 16 or 18 years pulled into the role of hero - be it willing or unknowingly - and, at this point, would be easily 20 or 21 years of age. No, this protagonist is a seasoned soldier by the name of Briar who has made it to 27 years through a lot of training and skill, and a dash of luck. He is not one looking for glory or was forced to take on the role of hero - no, that role was already filled by someone he counted as a dear friend and had promised to protect - yet he is the one who finds the letter in the failing lining of the bag. He had picked it up out of the far chance it would hold the secrets to what had happened to the empty and barren town he now stood in only to catch sight of the letter as he moved to toss it back where he had found it.

The seal had long since melted, staining the letter and envelope with a blotchy patch of color. The paper itself was soft from wear and yet the envelope had done well to protect the letter within. The letter fell apart at the creases despite the care he had taken when unfolding it but the strokes of ink were still legible enough to read. The information it contained was well and outdated but it was the fragment of information they had been missing. With quick words and even quicker orders, Briar and company started for the city young Nick never returned to.

It wasn’t the quickest of journeys, nor the most direct in route. The company Briar led found trouble nearly as frequently as trouble found it. Thankfully the majority of the encounters would do little harm to the company but it easily doubled the length of the journey. By the time the company set foot over the threshold where the letter had been written, the letter’s journey came to an end, returning two years after it had been sent away. The sender, a young woman now of 24 years named Cynthia, was surprised both at its return and the bearer of it, for Briar bore the crest of the King the letter had been intended for.

A King who died at the hand of his own brother. A brother who would blame Cynthia’s kingdom for the ‘assassination’ and started the war that would raid Jenna’s home and force Briar to take up arms alongside the King’s son doing everything he could to keep the Prince out of harms way until he found the letter warning the King he grieved for about the threat that was his very own brother.

A letter that would have arrived barely two hours too late had young Nick not been killed.
“Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear,” Tyler repeated, exaggerating the spooky tone the carnival fortune teller had used when saying the line and even went as far as to add a nasally, warbling sound to it as he danced his fingers in Mark’s face.

Mark, for his part, shoved the other away, rolling his eyes. “Knock it off, Tyler. She’s just doing her job.”

“Yeah,” Sam commented to the other two in the group, “being a scam.”

Josh and Peter snickered. Tyler didn’t seem to notice or was already too far into his thought to be able to derail. “Yeah, by trying to be overly spooky. The space was already spooky enough. She didn’t have to fake the rest of it so hard.”

The trio behind him took precedence first as their comments got progressively less innocently ignorant compared to Tyler’s. Mark rounded on the three and crossed his arms, using his bulk to his advantage to be intimidating; it was only mildly effective since they were nearly as large as he was. “If you don’t stop with those comments, I will tell Coach.”

Sam rolled his eyes as Peter glared at him. Josh was the one to counter with a smile still on his face, “Come on, man. We’re only joshing around. You know we don’t mean anything by it.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “Racism isn’t ‘joshing around’ and you three know that.”

“Come on, Mark,” Sam tried, his grin a bit too sharp. “It’s just some good fun. No need to ruin the fun for all of us over a few words.”

“A few words,” he parroted, the words dead on his tongue. “A few words that will inevitably lead to actions on the field, not to mention off.” He dropped his arms, relaxing his form. “I don’t care if you’re just having some fun. That kind of fun is dangerous and you know it. And if certain ears heard it, could cause a bit of hassle on the field and I would rather not have to see about you getting kicked off the team because of it.”

The three before him exploded at that. Shouting seemed to come from all sides as the trio raged against him but he didn’t budge. Tyler, ever the mediator, tried to get in, tried to separate everyone and calm things down, but Josh shoved at him and spat a slur and Mark punched Josh in the face. He would have loved to have said that it was out of a blind rage, that he had lost coherent thought after that point, but he was very aware of making the decision to pull back his fist and connect it with Josh’s jaw. It would be the only punch he threw as Sam and Peter lunged at him in rage. Both caught him around the middle and pinned his back to the ground before they started wailing on him. Josh eventually joined in but the added fists were barely noticed. Mark protected his face and braced against the ones aimed at his gut but let the rest fall where they may.

It could have been seconds as easily as it could have been minuted before the rest of the team was swarming over them, pulling the trio off two to a person. Sam was the most vocal about being restrained but no one paid him any heed. Tyler slipped into the chaos to be the first to haul Mark to his feet but didn’t get a chance to say anything as Coach Briers got to the center of the chaos and folded his arms.

Silence fell immediately. Where Mark had failed, Coach Briers had perfected and the entire team settled under his command. Only Sam, John, and Peter cowered under it.

“Make your way to the bus,” Coach Briers said, his voice an ever steady calm. “We’ll discuss this there.”

The team piled into the bus and sat down in their designated seats. Coach Briers climbed in, closed the door, and turned the air on before he addressed the team. His eyes locked first with Mark and then with Peter, Sam, and John. “There better be a reason why a tussle looked like a full on brawl.” There was a cacophony of shouts that lasted all of two seconds before the trio cowered under a seething glare. He let out a heavy sigh. “You three are really starting to disappoint me. I thought I had taught you boys better than this.”

“Sorry, Coach,” was meekly chorused back.

Coach Briers looked to Mark. “What was the fight about?”

Mark shrugged. “I punched Josh in the face for calling Tyler a slur.”

The team members seated around Josh immediately rounded on him and started berating Josh, equal parts flabbergasted and offended.

“My turn to speak,” Coach Briers announced into the bus and silence fell immediately. Coach Briers focused back on Mark. “Was there more?”

Mark felt Peter glaring at the back of his head but he ignored it. “We had seen the fortune teller and they were making racial jokes.” He shrugged again. “I told them to stop or I’d tell you, and insinuating they would be kicked off the team because of harassment irked them so they started yelling at me. When Tyler tried to intervene as he’s prone to do, Josh shoved him and spat the slur. I responded in kind.”

Coach Briers nodded and focused on Tyler. “Anything you want to add or counter?”

“No, Coach,” Tyler said.

“Peter, Sam, Josh, you’re suspended for two weeks.”

The only ones to react were the three suspended. The rest of the team knew it was a fair punishment, though those who were friends with the three thought it was a touch too lenient. Though the trio certainly weren’t the only ones to make racist remarks, most everyone else was and had been willing to learn and change, to move beyond that dangerous fear and experience the expansive world beyond.
It’s official. I'm literally the worst.

And I hate it. Justified or not, there should never be a reason to destroy a village even if we are in full out war. Yet here I am standing close enough to roast food on the coals left behind of a village I had personally set the torch to. The ground was still hot enough to burn bare skin, patches of coals were still white hot, and the slightest breeze was bolstering what few flames still remained on the minuscule amount of fuel left. The air was acrid despite nothing really burning anymore and every breath burned my lungs and throat.

I breathed freely anyway well aware the physician was going to have my hide once I stepped out of the danger zone. Thankfully, I was the only fool to do so. My people moved about the destroyed village looking for bodies with masks properly attached to their faces. The few water attuned magic users were scattered among them, maintaining enough moisture on the surveyors to keep them from overheating. I could quell the heat myself but that felt wrong for some reason. Maybe I should quell the heat. Would make everyone’s lives better.

“My Liege,” came from behind me, muffled by a mask but unmistakable. I turned, finding my second in command standing tall and proud despite the injury I knew he had hidden under his uniform. Without my consent, the image of a blade passing between his ribs and the tear into his side he had sustained in a different instance came back to the forefront of my mind.

The desire to pick at him about resting nearly shoved the words past my tongue. It would be a futile to attempt again. We’d argued it enough.

He held my gaze as he continued. “It may be best if you let our people work without your stare. You’re unnerving them, especially when you refuse to wear a mask.”

An amused half smile pulled at my lips and I tipped my head in the same direction as the smile. “And my wearing a mask would be better?”

The full face mask hid a lot of his expression but I could make out his eyes enough to see the amusement in them even if I couldn’t see the twitch in his lips. “It would certainly sooth some of everyone’s nerves.”

I let my gaze drift back over the village, what amusement had drifted in gone by the time I looked away from him. “I’ll be fine. How’s the survey going?”

If he sighed, I didn’t hear it. “Well. We’ve located half of the expected bodies.” The pause that followed was telling but I didn’t look back. “So far there haven’t been signs of suffering.”

I closed my eyes against that. His tone was caring, soothing as if that fact alone would absolve me of the atrocities I had just committed. And he wanted to, too. I could hear it. I knew it. He was just that kind of man.

But wasn’t it simply blind faith? Wouldn’t it be worse if he truly believed this was all justified? That any death was justified.

I dropped my head into an awaiting palm, gritting my teeth against the memories on repeat in my head, the thoughts I couldn’t shake even after I had done the deed.

Nausea welled up hot and fast in my gut, in my throat, and my cheeks prickled from the intensity of it.

His arm was around the back of my ribs before I could even register he had moved. If he had been talking, I couldn’t process it through the roaring in my ears. He took my weight as if it was nothing, supporting a man of equal stature as if he himself had simply leaned against a wall. I pressed my forehead into his neck finding the contact wet and sticky with sweat. If it was my sweat or his, I couldn’t tell.

“If you don’t walk out of here right now, I’m carrying you out,” he growled in my ear.

For a moment, I was bewildered at the clarity of his words, only for that confusion to vanish as he moved my hand and shoved his mask onto my face. I recoiled from it, claustrophobia seizing me in the same moment the mask settled into place. I shoved at him with one hand and tried to yank the mask off with the other but my panic made me sloppy and he overpowered me easily. I could feel his arm against the back of my legs before the world moved on its own but it didn’t help anything. I was forced to just deal with the mask as I shoved my face into his neck again, throwing all of my attention into willing the nausea away.

He was gentle when he set me down on a cot and even gentler when he removed the mask. I sucked in air like I had been drowning, unashamed of the weakness I knew I had to be showing as I choked on a sob.

I hated it. Hated all of it. We shouldn’t have to be digging through the ashes looking for bodies. That village should have never been torched - a village that had been under my protection - and yet I had stood on the very ruins I had created. I had known those faces, had known quite a few names and the basic going-ons within. I had vowed to protect it when I had become ruler and now I am the reason it no longer exists.

His hands were on my face as his voice finally registered in my ears. My vision struggled to clear through the tears but I could make out the countless bodies around me. Quite a number were employed by me - soldiers and medics alike - but easily half were the remaining villagers.

They should despise me yet there is concern and compassion on their faces.

I’m truly the worst.
“Now all you have to do is tell them.”

She huffed a laugh, an amused half smile pulling at her lips. “Oh. Is that all?” she asked, the words amused and a touch sarcastic. “Easier said than done, Plythe.”

Plythe shrugged, clearly unbothered. “If you don’t, them finding out however they do is only going to make this worse.”

She rolled her eyes and returned the cigarette to her lips. “As if telling them is going to be any better.”

“Vera-”

She waved them off, stopping whatever else Plythe might have tried to convince her. “Save your breath. It’s not going to change my mind on this and you know it.”

She couldn’t see them out of the corner of her eye since she was at the rail and they weren’t - the fact that Plythe was even on the balcony spoke of how strongly they felt about this; they were terrified of heights - but she could clearly picture Plythe’s mustache and pointed beard twitching in a way that reminded her of how a cat’s tail would flick in agitation. It was quite adorable and she smirked into her hand, tempted to glance back just to see it. Plythe would use that against her, though, so she settled for catching the next time it happened instead.

Plythe let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. It is your choice, after all.”

She let out a lung full of smoke as the door opened and closed behind Plythe. Even if she refused to admit it out loud to Plythe or herself, Plythe was right. She could not risk someone else telling the others her little secret. She needed to be able to control the information they did learn about it. Even Plythe only knew a fraction of any of it. If they knew all of it, she was fairly certain they wouldn’t have been so adamant about her sharing with the others. She pulled another lungful of smoke in. Hell, Plythe would have probably killed her already had they found out the full story. She certainly wasn’t going to put it past them; she had seen them gut enough people to know Plythe wouldn’t hesitate, at least.

She let out the breath, watching the smoke curl skyward in the still air. Despite being so high, the balcony she was on was well protected in the cliff side the castle had been built into. Mountainside? It was certainly sheer enough to be counted a cliff on that side, at least.

The door opened again but the footfall was of heavy boots she knew the sound of even better than Plythe’s soft soled shoes. She didn’t bother glancing back at him and went about sucking in another lung full of smoke.

“Plythe sent me out here to talk to you,” he said in lieu of a greeting, leaning on the railing beside her.

She hummed an acknowledgment as she let the smoke go slowly. She brought the cigarette to her lips again. He was watching her. She could make out his face enough at the edge of her vision to be very aware of that fact. She continued to pretend it didn’t bother her.

Seconds slowly stretched into minutes but she wasn’t about to break the silence. Just because Plythe had sent him out didn’t mean she was just going to spill everything to him. He seemed unbothered by the silence as his gaze fell away after the first thirty seconds and didn’t break it until at least five minutes had passed. Or maybe it was three. She dug the butt of her cigarette into the glass dish she was using as an ash tray.

Normally she would have lit a second one but his presence was still oddly calming despite Plythe’s interference.

A few more minutes went by without much change. She was about to settle in for the long haul when his demeanor started to change. It wasn’t an abrupt change. It was almost like something had drawn his attention, a curious thought that drifted into a curious frown as he tried to piece together what it was he was looking at. She glanced at him to confirm that was what she was getting from him before she started looking in the same direction, curious herself to see what had drawn his attention.

Ice and adrenaline filled her veins and she couldn’t help the sharp intake of air at the sight of them. She took a step back from the railing but it wasn’t to run. He bristled as she used that new stance as a springboard to throw herself into his side. His arm wrapped around her, pinning her in place, as he threw his other out and shouted a shield spell.

The fireball slammed against the shield as they hit the floor.

“Damn it,” she spat as she extracted herself from him and scrambled for the door.

He was hot on her heels as the shield spell took another two consecutive blasts. His chest bumped against her back as she was slowed by the door but his feet never tangled with hers and they made it through at a sprint. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards what she assumed was the rest of the company. Sure enough, with the halls filled with the noise of the warning horns, he led her right to the room where everyone was at, including their gracious hosts.

“We’ve got company!” he bellowed into the expansive room.

“How many?” their main host asked.

“We saw three,” she said, barely stopping before the edge of the map table could bruise her thighs. “Here, from this direction,” she said as she stabbed the map with her finger.

“How did they find us?” one of their company asked.

She didn’t dare look at Plythe as she met their main host’s gaze. Her chest burned but it wasn’t from running. “They’re here because of me.” She hated that any of them had to know this. “I’m the last Myronthean.”
False Morel Mushroom Circle (Five Words, One Story)

Five things that were seemingly unrelated were given as a prompt every week. The task was to take these five things and combine them into a short story each week. Entries may be anywhere from 500 to 1,500 words.

This is one continuous story. Each week's words are in bold.

“I cannot guarantee it will work, my King,” he reiterated for what felt like the millionth time.

The King only waved him off. “Yes, yes; you’ve said as much. That’s why there is new blood in your circle.”

He hated that phrasing even as his gaze fell onto said ‘new blood’. There would be six of them casting but three were not folk he had ever met. Two of them looked like children - barely into adulthood if at all - while the third looked competent and well into his fourth decade of life. The frown buried under mustache and beard deepened. The two children would be easy enough to counter but the older was going to be a challenge. He was going to have to tread carefully if he didn’t want to get caught.

“Their presence and assist is no guarantee, either, my King,” he repeated nearly as frequently as his first remark, “as I have informed you the last number of times you have brought in someone new.”

The King laughed and capped him hard on the back. He staggered under the abuse but let it slide. “Come now, Old Willow. Don’t count them out until you see for yourself how powerful they are!” The King grinned with far too many teeth at the older of the new folk and the fellow gained an amused look before bowing his head with a bit more flourish than was necessary. It made him even more wary of the fellow. The King turned his gaze back onto him. “I went to great lengths to find the most powerful and the most skilled. This time-” that dangerous look was back, the one he had seen far too frequently since the King had suggested this plan- “this time it will work, and we’ll finally have ourselves a Hero that can take down the Demon King.”

No, they wouldn’t. He refused to allow it.

With a deep bow, he offered, “May it be as you say, my King.” Without another word, he crossed to the remaining two.

Prince Cassian looked up from the aged journal before passing it to Apprentice Eirena, a concerned frown pulling at the Prince’s expression. “Again, then?”

He nodded. “Your father is determined for this to work.” He stepped within Prince Cassian’s space to gently take the book from Apprentice Eirena hands, keeping the Prince’s body between him and the rest of the room. He whispered, “Be wary. I do not trust the oldest of those that have been brought to join us. I have no doubt in that one’s skill to be able to see what we are doing and correct our mistakes.”

Apprentice Eirena’s expression lost what little emotion had been there. In contrast Prince Cassian let out a sharp breath, anger evident in the Prince’s expression for only a moment. “We will be relying on you to divert as much as you can. Should it come down to it, we will follow your lead.”

He nodded, straightening his immaculate beard out of habit. The book sat heavy against his chest in an inner most pocket but it was a comfort more than a hindrance. “Best not delay this more, then; to the magic circle with you.”

In his opinion, the circle was excessive but it made sabotaging the first attempts easier. The King had gotten too frustrated with the delays, though, and had the circle embedded into the stone floor itself. The powder of animal bones he had assured the King was significant in creating the circle colored the groves white. The fact that the craftsmen hadn’t made a single mistake in the circle had been the most disheartening fact. Even missing a seemingly insignificant line would have been enough; unfortunately, it was perfect, and the King knew it.

He came to a stop at his designated point on the circle. Prince Cassian was to his right, Apprentice Eirena to his left, and the fellow he did not trust directly across from him. The other two stood opposite the Prince and Apprentice. The three newcomers would know the spell, he had no doubt. The King was always far too thorough at making sure those he chose would do the job well. So, without another moment of hesitation, he put his hands out over the circle and closed his eyes.

Magic seemed to wander around them, drifting as if it were waiting.

The fellow across from him acted first, snapping the magic in the room taut before forcing it into place.

The backlash from the assault on the circle nearly brought him to his knees. He felt an echo of pain in his knees from the other four and a wave of dizziness from Apprentice Eirena and the two younger newcomers. The one across from Prince Cassian nearly passed out, only kept conscious due to the Prince managing to weather the backlash far better in turn. He poured his magic into the circle and quickly started to weave it around the magic the fellow had forced into place. The magic fought his coaxing but slowly it started to settle, first from his point on the circle then from Prince Cassian’s. Between the two of them, they got two thirds of it calmed before Apprentice Eirena was able to help. The fellow seemed not to care about what they were doing and continually poured more power into the circle.

There was no way he was going to be able to stop this one.

The realization filled his chest with sorrow and regret but that didn’t mean he was all out of options. Guiding the Prince’s and Apprentice’s magics into a weave with his own over the magic to keep it stable under the fellow’s unrelenting strength, he quickly wove a second spell directly under the first. It was an incredibly simple spell but the complexity came with weaving it into the first unnoticed. As the initial spell started to activate, he slipped the second spell in under the weave his, the Prince’s and Apprentice’s magics in the hopes it would be enough to hide the spell from sight.

The spell activated with a burst of light bright through his eyelids.

Blinking into the dim room, he distinctly heard the King cross into the circle. “Did it work?”

“The spell activated, my King,” the fellow offered, the words pseudo-pleasant and causing his proverbial hackles to stand on end.

The King came to a stop in the middle of the circle as the details of the room slowly returned. “Then where is my Hero?”

The center of the circle was void of a person but the tang of spent magic spoke of the spell’s success. The fellow’s gaze fell on him for a moment and for that moment, he feared he had been found out. “Perchance it was a fault in the spell’s origins, my King.”

He shook his head, stepping forward. “The spell itself is well and solid, achievable with the right amount of balance across the circle.” The very lie he had been using to keep the spell from working. The very lie that had landed them with the unnamed fellow who was too powerful for his own good. “It is possible that our work to maintain the integrity of that balance as you inundated the spell with power may not have been enough to harmonize the magics and keep the spell stable enough to maintain accuracy.” He turned his gaze to the King. “The Hero may simply be someplace out, brought to this world but not as precisely as we intended.”

“Can you find him?”

He went to calm the King’s enthusiasm but the fellow spoke first. “Should be easy enough. The residual magics alone would be a bright enough beacon to find, my King.”

“Excellent! Farris! I put you in charge of the search. Old Willow-”

“Should your appointed require any assistance, I am findable,” he quickly put in, making sure the words came off short but sounding tired. “Let us not denote your appointed’s ability so quickly as to force unneeded help unto him. Until then, I have research to continue and lessons to attend to.” He bowed deeply and held it. “Unless you have another task for me.”

The King laughed and smacked him on the back. “Right you are, old friend! Quite right you are. Off with you and yours, then.”

“May I join him, Father?” Prince Cassian asked, stepping forward. “They are my lessons he is attending to.”

“Of course, of course,” the King said dismissively and the three of them slipped out of the room.

“Basket cases,” Apprentice Eirena muttered as she closed the door to his tower. “The whole lot of them.”

Prince Cassian sighed. “I’m unfortunately inclined to agree with you on that.” The Prince focused on him but he ignored it in favor of opening the window. The air smelled thickly of rain. “What now, Wilhelm?”

He closed his eyes as a breeze curled against his face. “We save the Hero.”
He opened his eyes and turned back to the two behind him. “I am not sure how much time we have so it would be best to depart as soon as we are able. Eirena?”

She turned her thoughtful gaze onto him. “I can have horses and supplies ready in an hour at most.”

He nodded. “Try to get it done in half that time if you can, my dear.” She nodded in turn as he focused back on the Prince and she disappeared out the door. “Go pack your belongings. If anyone asks where you are going, say you don’t know and that I’m sporadically springing a travel trip on you, though it may have something to do with a letter I had received upon our arrival back at my tower.”

Prince Cassian nodded. “I can do that.” A pause before, “Do you think we can beat Farris to the Hero?”

“If we are swift enough. Now go. No need to be wasting daylight on questions that can happen in route.”

As the door closed behind Prince Cassian, he crossed to the desk Apprentice Eirena had been staring at in thought. Amusement tugged at his face and he picked up the little sack as he made his way to pack his own belongings.

The rain had started in earnest by the time they made it to the edge of the castle’s lands. With the horse gear and their travel cloaks already having water repellent charms woven into them by his own hand, the rain didn’t slow them down and he kept the horses ambling as quickly as they were willing to go.

The rain eased up as night started to truly fall. On his estimate, they were making good time. Where Farris would have to pinpoint the Hero’s location, he knew where the Hero should be. He just hoped his second spell had been enough to make it harder of Farris to find it than the stranger had boasted it would be. He sent about a few conjured wizard lights as he drew them to a stop. He was fortunate that Apprentice Eirena and Prince Cassian were the sort to be unbothered traveling for hours without discussion. He was certain both had plenty of questions but with the rain and the pace, conversation hadn’t been possible.

“We stopping for long?” Prince Cassian asked as everyone dismounted.

“No. Only long enough for us to consume something more than dry tack and to give the horses some sort of break.”

Apprentice Eirena approached with a bag. “Do you still want the tarps up?”

He smiled. “I would certainly love a break from this cloak. If you two want to stay in them, I won’t stop you.

The tarp was as it sounded, a rectangular tarp stretched across six poles to create a dry patch in the rain. Prince Cassian and Apprentice Eirena pitched two: one for the horses and one for the riders, though they only used four poles for the second one and let the excess drape to the ground. Wilhelm set about drying the ground and setting magical fire into place in a circle of rocks just as Apprentice Eirena appeared with cooking implements and materials.

“How far are we traveling tonight?” Prince Cassian asked as he joined them just as Eirena closed the lid on the boiling stew she had put together. It would be a moment longer before the potatoes were cooked through.

“A good few hours more. I want us to get as far as we can before stopping completely.”

Prince Cassian’s face was the epitome of worry. “You sure we’re making good enough time?”

He raised both eyebrows at the Prince. “Not stopping would jeopardize our attempt even more. However, I am confident enough in my spellwork to trust that we have enough of a head start to be at the Hero before the King’s chosen reaches them.”

“How far off did you send the Hero?” Apprentice Eirena asked.

“To Vellbrook.”

Prince Cassian choked on his water. “Vellbrook?” he parroted. “That’s a four month journey on horseback if you’ve got good weather the entire way but winter is just around the corner and I highly doubt we have enough with us to account for that.” Edging panic, the Prince smacked his own chest, proclaiming, “I certainly didn’t pack enough.”

His hands had risen from his lap in his desire to sooth the Prince’s ires and gingerly patted the air in a calming gesture. “Calm yourself some, young Prince. It is alright. I was not intending for us to travel the entire distance by horseback. I would be surprised if Farris did such a thing once he found the location himself.”

Apprentice Eirena - seeming unperturbed by the announcement of the location - lifted the lid of the pot and skewered a potato chunk as she asked, “We’re making it to Felvin then?”

“Felvin?” Prince Cassian, looking from Apprentice Eirena blowing on the potato chunk to him. “I thought their transportation circle had been destroyed.”

“It has been.” He accepted the offered bowl from Apprentice Eirena. “It should mask my teleportation magic quite nicely because of it.”

Prince Cassian accepted his own bowl from Apprentice Eirena. “Apologies, Wilhelm, but I’m still not following.”

“Not by a lack of skill, mind you,” he reassured the Prince. “You’re lessons were never designed for anything so complex.” He took a bite of soup, getting Prince Cassian to start eating as well since the Prince had to wait for him anyway. “When the Felvin transportation circle had been destroyed, it created a sort of mess of magic in the area.” He pointed his spoon at Prince Cassian. “Think of it like a bramble bush, how the limbs are all woven together into a knot of thorns that’s hard to get past but create a pocket within. The magic at Felvin is much the same way, though less stagnant than the bramble bush. The magic there constantly churns because while the function of the circle was broken, because it hadn’t been completely eradicated means it still has a pull on magic. It’s due to that lack of order that has caused the magical bramble bush.”

“But doesn’t that make it more dangerous to do spellwork?”

“If one is ill-experienced, absolutely. However, I have done my fair share of spellwork in such settings that I have no doubt in my capability to cast without causing harm. The only thing is to make it undetectable means taking my time and the sooner we get there, the more time I will have. I doubt the King’s chosen will take the same pains to be discrete. He will most likely simply use the circle in the castle and simply cast.”

Apprentice Eirena lowered her empty bowl. “Will the Hero be as easily located as that person so boasted?”

He chuckled. “I couldn’t help but ponder that myself. If my spell worked as intended, no. The redirection was meant to use excess magic from the summoning to place the Hero near Vellbrook. It may be possible that the King’s chosen will be able to narrow it down to the general direction of Morai than Vellbrook specifically. Not to mention the wilderness between Vellbrook and the other Morai cities in that general area and everything in between.”

“Where exactly did you send them?” Prince Cassian asked.

“Well within Morai’s boundaries but close enough to Vellbrook that the Hero will head there.”

“And you’re certain of that?”

“As certain as I am that I can get us to Vellbrook from Felvin.” A thought tugged at him. “Speaking of Vellbrook.” He dug into his personal bag and pulled out the little sack he had grabbed and passed it to Apprentice Eirena. “Yes, I did make sure to grab this.”

Her eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the little bag and she took it with a quickly uttered ‘thank you’ before she was off scrambling for other supplies. Prince Cassian gave him a quizzical look and he happily answered, “Coffee. Vellbrook is known for its coffee shops, thus how I remembered, but that particular coffee is from Halvarin.”

Prince Cassian nodded. “I saw the rust colored crest when you handed it over.”

Apprentice Eirena sat down heavily with kettle, mortar and pestle, and quite a few other necessities alone with three mugs. Her eyelashes sparkled with droplets of the mist the rain had turned into as they had eaten as she set about making them coffee. Prince Cassian chuckled, low and soft, as he quickly cast a water repellent charm on Apprentice Eirena before turning his attention back to Wilhelm. “Do we have time for coffee?”

He shrugged, dragging the ladle through the soup and filling his bowl again. “Seeing as I am not quite done eating…”

Prince Cassian’s chuckle was louder that time as the Prince leaned over and ladled himself another bowl full. Time or not, he wasn’t about to deprive Apprentice Eirena from a cup of coffee.
Despite the rain dissipating as they got ready to move out again, the night remained thick with darkness. The conjured wizard lights were the only thing allowing any of them to see. Not that there was much to see as they truly entered the woods that surrounded Felvin.

The distinction between forest and city had vanished in the time since his last visit. He hadn’t even realized they had entered Felvin until he felt the first brush of churning magic. Startled, he looked to Apprentice Eirena and Prince Cassian, finding both of them alert and confused. He met Prince Cassian’s gaze. “What was the last report about Felvin that you saw?”

Prince Cassian blinked at him, his confusion thickening even as Wilhelm caught the faintest flicker of thoughtfulness underneath it. “The one directly following the report about the transportation circle being destroyed. It had been a basic report confirming the town was getting back to normal.” Prince Cassian’s frown deepened. “There was never anything about this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. We were at war during the Felvin reports and because there were orders to not defer any reports regarding key towns and cities, anything more would have reached me even on the front lines since we were the closest force. Had a report come in afterwards about this, I would have been told.”

He sighed heavily as Apprentice Eirena spoke up. “I can go check.”

Prince Cassian raised an eyebrow as Wilhelm shook his head. “Right now our priority is getting to the Hero first. Besides, we will most likely find the answer along the way. Come on.”

The horses seemed unbothered by the ribbons of magic that churned the air the deeper they got into Felvin. He had a few theories as to why but even trying to think them through and create a good argument for his theories wasn’t enough to keep himself calm. Any time he tried to focus solely on ironing out one theory, a ribbon of magic would pass through him, causing a surge of adrenaline through his veins. He sat agitated in the saddle as he tried to guide the horses along the road he half remembered.

He didn’t even realize his conjured wizard lights were gone until his horse shoved through a fern and out onto the stretch of pavement where the transportation circle had been.

The space had been a large, square pavestone plaza with a few mature trees left to grow in round protected beds. Strung lights had created invisible lines between walkways, patio areas for the shop fronts, open spaces, and the transportation circle boundaries. The poles holding those lights were always decorated in banners or garlands and plenty of posters and signs to help guide people to the many shop fronts. The plaza had been the heart of the city in many ways.

None of that remained.

The plaza was absolutely void of plant life despite how abundant it was beyond the pavestone and equally void of anything else. The poles that held the strung lights, the mature trees that had provided some shade, all of it was gone. There wasn’t even a hint of a broken chair or fallen roof tile. Just a distinct line between the plaza pavestone and the reclaimed city.

The ribbons of magic were visible as they churned through the air within the boundaries of the plaza, bands of colorless substance warping the view through like water or thick glass. It was as if the ribbons were glowing yet the strange bluish white light never wavered or changed in intensity as one would expect from a moving light source and it cast the plaza in an eerie glow that seemed to only darken the forest.

“Wilhelm.”

He started at the choked voice calling his name and whipped his head around to look back at Prince Cassian only to find the Prince supporting Apprentice Eirena as best he could from his own horse, the horses as close together as their legs and packs would allow. Even from where he sat he could see Prince Cassian trembling and Apprentice Eirena breathing heavily. He turned his horse around and brought it up alongside Apprentice Eirena’s horse. “Pull her to your saddle and support her,” he directed as he freed her foot from the stirrup. He tugged the reins from her hands and brought them over the horse’s head as a makeshift lead. “Try to withstand it long enough to pass through. The pocket is at the center of the plaza.”

‘Pocket’ was a rather accurate word for it. While the area beyond the plaza seemed to be illuminated by the visible magic, the center seemed to be less illuminated when logic said it should have been the brightest.

“It will also feel void of magic,” he warned, catching Prince Cassian’s gaze once Apprentice Eirena was secured against his chest. “I cannot prepare you for that sensation; only warn you.”

Prince Cassian’s expression tightened but he nodded. “Be as quick as you can casting, Wilhelm. If it’s worse than this…”

With a second horse under his command, he urged both creatures onto the pavestone.

Magic slammed into him, rushing around him like he was passing through a waterfall or a raging river. Except it wasn’t in one direction. The ribbons of magic were constantly moving and shifting about in the unspecified sphere the broken transportation circle had created, meaning that one instance the flow would be shoving down on him like a massive waterfall, the next it would be shoving from below like he was free falling, only to slam into him from the back like a violent gale. Beyond the physical sensations, it felt like every emotion was warring within him for dominance. There was no distinction between ecstasy and grief, blinding rage and paralyzing terror. Every emotion possible swelled within him and overflowed like the magic washing over him.

Crossing into the pocket at the center should have been a relief. Instead, it left him with a sense of loss so profound, he couldn’t breathe.

“Please.”

It was a broken whimper somewhere behind him, a plea for something beyond his knowing, and yet it drew his awareness like sudden pain would. Prince Cassian was curled over Apprentice Eirena shaking so hard, he wasn’t sure how they were still in the saddle. Apprentice Eirena had pulled her knees up and curled further into Prince Cassian’s chest but her limbs were limp in the position; he would be surprised if she was still conscious.

“Please,” Prince Cassian repeated, the word even weaker and breaking halfway through in the oppressive silence of the pocket.

A massive gash in the earth crossed through the center of the transportation circle at an angle, breaking the carefully laid ring of specially crafted colored pavestone. Just as the report had entailed, the specific runes for control had been disturbed but those to gather magic had been unaffected. Though he spotted an oddity in the runes, he lacked the capacity to process it.

When he went to cast, dread washed over him. He couldn’t feel his magic let alone any latent magic within the pocket. How could he have no magic? They had just passed through enough magic to erase the entire continent from existence! He should be absolutely saturated with it!

A shudder went down his spine as he felt the familiar tingle of magic on his fingers, though the sensation was distant and dull. It wasn’t that he was without magic; he had simply become numb from the over exposure of magic.

It created a bit of a challenge casting without being able to feel magic. He had to cast slower, to deliberately control the magic he released so as not to create a beacon or leave a trace anyone - talented or otherwise - could find and follow. Seconds stretched into minutes and by the time the spell swelled around them and plucked them from that pocket, his vision had started to gray at the edges.

Appearing in Morai was like stepping into a cold pond. He gasped as sensation came back and the sense of profound loss vanished. He vaguely heard Prince Cassian gasp somewhere behind him but his pounding pulse in his ears made it hard to hear.

He slid from his saddle onto shaking legs and fathomed at the idea that they were keeping him upright. The shaking weakness ebbed quickly as he walked the horses out of the way enough to step up to Prince Cassian’s side. The Prince carefully passed Apprentice Eirena to him before getting down himself.

“There should be a pear or something of the sort in one of our bags,” he told Prince Cassian as he lowered Apprentice Eirena to the ground. “Grab it and a knife. We need to get something in our stomachs as quickly as possible.”

“Fruit specifically?” Prince Cassian verified, his voice as shaky as Wilhelm felt.

“Not unless you come across one of our waters and something else edible first.”
He brushed Apprentice Eirena’s hair from her face, sweat making the strands cling to her despite his intentions. Despite his concern, her breathing was even and her heartbeat steady.

“Here,” accompanied a slice of pear appearing over his shoulder and he took it ignoring how his hand shook. Her jaw moved with little force and he shoved half the slice in her mouth before breaking off the remaining. He shoved the other half in his own mouth. Sweet juice cascaded across his tongue and disappeared as he practically inhaled the piece, chewing only enough to not choke on it. He patted her cheek. “Wake up, Eirena. Come on.”

Unfocused eyes fluttered as she drew in a slow, deep breath. He shifted his hold, propping her head up just a bit more to make sure she couldn’t choke on the pear. He had hoped her waking would help her look less like a ghost to no avail.

“There we go. Eat up. That’s it.”

He counted five slices by the time coherence returned to her gaze and she sat up on her own. He looked to Prince Cassian and was pleased to see the Prince had an apple mostly devoured in the hand holding a knife, the last slice of the pear in the other. He took and consumed the pear slice.

The flame of Prince Cassian’s torch sputtered as the Prince used it to light a proper fire despite the approaching dawn as Wilhelm gave Apprentice Eirena a second apple. “What was that, Wilhelm?” Prince Cassian asked. “What did we go through?”

He sighed heavily. “Something that should not have persisted without either of our knowledge.” He rubbed at his face before tugging at his beard as if to straighten it. “But what I don’t understand is how it got that bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“I double checked the runes for my own peace of mind and while I verified the control runes had indeed been destroyed and the gather runes were untouched, I also saw the limiters they had implemented.”

“Limiters? Wouldn’t the broken circle make those ineffective?”

“Had the limiters been reliant on the circle, yes, but the limiters had been placed on the gather runes specifically.”

Prince Cassian scowled at the fire as he tossed in another stick. “That’s a lot of magic to be gathered in one place, Wilhelm.” He returned his gaze to Wilhelm, somber and worried. “Surely it’s only happenstance.”

He shook his head, morose. “I wish it were. Unfortunately, a forest doesn’t reclaim an entire city in such a short amount of time without anyone knowing.”

“You don’t think-” Prince Cassian started but cut himself off.

“I would not be surprised if someone had created that deliberately, but as for the chief reason, that is left to be determined. Thankfully God Tier spells requires ten times that magic.” The thought occurred to him at same time it must have to Prince Cassian because the Prince’s gaze snapped to his. “Unless the other broken transportation circles are in a similar state.”

“Shit,” Prince Cassian hissed.

He couldn’t help but agree. This wasn’t good. If someone was planning for God Tier magic-

Prince Cassian tensed in a way they both knew all too well. Wilhelm turned to look towards the source of Prince Cassian’s sudden alertness as he reached for Apprentice Eirena, tugging her close as Prince Cassian moved to stand between Wihelm and whatever was approaching with a heavy hand on his sheathed sword. Wilhelm softly cursed when he pooled his magic only to find it still far too spent for him to be of use in combat. The way Apprentice Eirena was sagged against him meant that Prince Cassian was their only line of defense. Morai wasn’t known to be hostile to travelers but it also wasn’t known as the safest country on the continent. He had made sure to send them to the same spot the Hero had been redirected to - a spot that was supposed to be sheltered enough from Vellbrook to not be seen by the city but close enough that the Hero should have spotted the city had they had found a point to see the surrounding lands well enough.

A single person, ragged and wary, stepped out properly from behind a tree, though their hand remained resting against the trunk. He didn’t recognize their rumpled clothing. If he was to guess, their Hero had just found them.

“Hey,” came timidly from the Hero’s lips but the next words were more sure, “hi. Sorry. I’m a bit lost. Can you tell me where I am? If you understand me.”

The last statement didn’t seem to be something that the Hero had intended for them but Prince Cassian still responded to it. “We can understand you.” Relief and surprise both washed over the Hero’s face. “And you’re currently in the Country of Morai about three days from the capital city Vellbrook.”

The Hero frowned, confusion quickly taking place of the relief and surprise. “What continent is Morai on? That a new country in Africa or something?”

Prince Cassian glanced down at Wilhelm but answered, “Kom, the smallest of the three.”

“Three? So, wait, you’re saying I’m not, what, still on Earth?”

“You are not on your home world, no,” Wilhelm confirmed.

He expected some form of emotional reaction but the Hero’s was certainly far less than he had expected. Tears sprang to the Hero’s eyes as they looked away but the Hero’s chest expanded in a drawn breath and he watched as they held it before slowly releasing it, as if suppressing the emotions to deal with them later.

His heart went out to the Hero. Hopefully they would be able to give the Hero the moment to truly feel everything.

“Ok. So I’m not home anymore.” The Hero’s voice was steady. Stern, even, in the way they started seeking information. “How did I get here? Do you know?”

Prince Cassian answered. “We brought you here.”

“Brought me here? Why? How?”

“At the desires of my father. Upon his order, we summoned you here through a ritual that was intended to seek a worthy soul to come and be our Hero.”

“A ritual? What, like, with magic?”

Wilhelm spoke up. “Magic commanded by my own craft. I was the one that made sure you weren’t summoned to the castle and were instead dropped somewhere beyond our country’s boundaries.” He gave their rumpled appearance a disheartened look. “Hopefully not too unkindly.”

The Hero shook their head, dismissing his worry. “Oh, no. I look a mess because I’ve tripped a few times too many trying to figure out where I was and how I was gonna survive out here on my own, what with it being the dead of night and all.”

“I must warn you now.” That got the Hero’s full attention. “I will do everything in my power to send you back home but I do not currently have that knowledge nor the magic to do so. It may take years before you are able to return home, though my intent is to diminish the gap of your absence upon your return.”

The Hero fisted their shirt at the center of their chest, the nickel appearing bracelet on their wrist glinting with firelight. For a moment, he expected either a heartfelt thanks or a vehement denial but as the moment stretched, he realized that neither were coming his way. Instead the Hero responded with a soft, “Are you going to make me be your ‘hero’ in exchange for that?”

He frowned at the Hero. “No, of course not. The King only wanted to summon a Hero to put the burden of war on their shoulders and make them the scapegoat for when the war ended regardless if we won or not. Dragging you from your world to ours is a cruel thing to do and to ask the sufferer of such torture to become the Hero of our kingdom is unacceptable. We will do everything within our power to keep you out of that role and get you back home safe and sound.”

The hand against their chest tightened, making the bracelet flash again. “And if I don’t trust you?”

He huffed a chuckle, offering, “We are the very strangers that have pulled you from your world. You have no proof that you can trust us beyond our words and I hope you hold on to that skepticism for the time being.” The Hero nodded, albeit slowly. He offered them a kind smile. “Now, I think it would be best if we did introductions before we went about making food for everyone. I am Wilhelm the Old Willow Wizard and this is my student Prince Cassian Rukal, and my apprentice Eirena.” Prince Cassian bowed his head as Apprentice Eirena managed a half hearted wave from where she leaned against him.

No immediate response came, though it was obvious the Hero was chewing over how to answer. “My name is-”
He woke slowly, groggily, knowing he had to wake quickly and wouldn’t be able.

“It’s ok, Wilhelm. Take your time.”

His eyes flickered open to see the hazy shape of Cecilia leaning over him, her short braid hanging over her far shoulder. Her abilities with healing magic had grown exponentially since her involuntary arrival to their world seven months ago. Had she been inclined to pick up any combative spells, it certainly would have been difficult to keep the Hero title off of her. She smiled brightly at him when she noticed his gaze. “Don’t worry. The fight’s pretty much over now so you can just take your time waking up and getting back onto your feet.”

He offered her a smile in turn, though it felt a little lacking on his face. “Thank you Cecilia. I’m sure under your magnificent and generous care I’ll be up on my feet in no time.”

She stuck the tip of her tongue out at him and he chuckled. Had her hands not been preoccupied with healing him, she would have smacked his arm like she did any time he teased her as such. He turned his gaze on the world that he could see from where he lay. He could make out Prince Cassian not far off standing on a pile of rubble with his gaze up on the highest levels of the castle. The Prince’s chest and arms were heavily bandaged with one arm in a sling and a cape clasped around his throat to shield him against the cool breeze slipping about the castle grounds. There were a scattering of personnel about - medical and soldier alike, if he were to guess - but they were giving the Prince space. The fact that Prince Cassian was even standing was testament to Cecilia’s abilities.

The light of the healing magic faded as Cecilia sat back on her ankles and rubbed an arm across her damp forehead. “Alright. Now, be careful moving about. Your body’s going to be stiff and it’ll complain for a few days after healing so rapidly. I would also suggest not using any magic for the next few weeks at least but we both know you don’t ever listen to me.”

He laughed at that. “I can’t go about being lazy now that the real works just begun, now can I?”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “And there you go proving my point.”

When she looked towards the castle, he knew it hadn’t been a conscious choice. Since arriving in their world, Cecilia had showcased the sort of perception he had only ever seen the likes of in Prince Cassian and other trained persons, though hers went beyond detecting dangers. She would simply know when one of them approached regardless of intent or would pick up on things so well hidden, they themselves were oftentimes unconscious to. He was tempted to say it was thanks to magic but she had even managed such things in the heart of a magic void. He sat up, watching her.

She got to her feet as footfall came from the open doors directly ahead of Prince Cassian. Everyone’s attention went to the opening but only Cecilia moved closer. Eirena - after everything, it was so hard to think of her as his apprentice anymore - came trudging out of the castle dragging a body behind her. She looked relatively unharmed from where he sat but her expression spoke of an immense exhaustion. Cecilia made it to her as Eirena stumbled but didn’t fall. He was certain Cecilia spoke to her but of what only the two of them and the dead body would know. Prince Cassian started towards the pair which brought others along behind him but it was Cecilia who caught Eirena when she finally collapsed and the familiar glow of healing magic chased away the growing shadows of a waning day.

He groaned as he got himself to his feet. He wasn’t sure if it was ironic or a blessing that the Hero of their kingdom hadn’t come from another world but from the kingdom’s own people. It was Prince Cassian who met his gaze first and he was certain the Prince’s expression was a mirror of his own; exhaustion and some pain was prevalent but there was also relief and grief and the right amount of worry tugging at the Prince’s face.

“We did it,” Prince Cassian offered in a gruff voice that wasn’t much stronger than a whisper. He had long since stopped glancing at the nasty scar across Prince Cassian’s throat that should have made the man mute, if not outright kill him. Healing him had been the first time any of them understood Cecilia’s true potential.

He offered the Prince a soft smile. “That we did. Which means you can return to your bed and stay there until you are cleared by the healers.”

Prince Cassian grinned. “Cecilia said I was fine now.”

He snorted a laugh. “And if Vivian catches wind of you ignoring healers, I will point her in the right direction and you know it.”

Prince Cassian laughed. While using Lady Vivian as a threat wasn’t the kindest thing, she would have - and had, for that matter - encouraged it. He did not envy the Prince in his choice of life partner while at the same time he was certain no one else would be as good of match. Having grown up at as near an equivalent level to Princess Morai’s government had, Lady Vivian would understand Prince Cassian’s world enough to support him in it while at the same time bringing a fresh perspective that Prince Cassian wouldn’t ignore. He expected to see decades of peace and prosperity following their union at the very least.

He entered the medical tent and slipped through without anyone so much as batting an eye in his direction. It wasn’t hard; there were still a lot of critically injured despite Cecilia’s and everyone else’s best efforts. He ducked through one of the makeshift hallways into a private tent where a single body lay on the only bed in the space. There wasn’t even an aid to be seen but that was probably for the best. The energy in the small tent spoke of the Demon King’s personal healer was monitoring the Demon King’s vitals. At least the medical chart handing on the end of the bed had been updated in the last few minutes.

“Come for a visit?” the Demon King - Lucius - teased, opening the eye not bandaged.

He raised an eyebrow even as he approached the edge of the bed. “I can leave if you’d rather.”

Lucius’s hand wrapped around his wrist, careful and cautious in a way that broke a part of Wilhelm’s heart. “I’d rather you stayed,” Lucius said, trying and failing to maintain that teasing tone. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his free hand through Lucius’s hair. The Demon King pressed into the touch, seeking it as best he could. “I thought…”

Whatever Lucius thought went unspoken but Wilhelm had a pretty good idea because he had thought the same thing when Cecilia’s magic hadn’t worked on Lucius. “Yeah,” he said, resting his forehead against Lucius’s. Lucius’s other hand carded through his hair to settle at the back of his head, trembling in Wilhelm’s hair. “Me too.”

“I’m ok, Wilhelm,” she said as he came to a stop at her side on the castle’s upper wall.

He smiled at that. “Oh, I’m sure you are.” Below them people were already working on removing debris, the medical tent straight ahead of them. From that height, though, he could almost see the boundaries of the capital city. He leaned against the wall, telling the wind as much as her, “Every day you sustain higher and higher levels of healing magic. In a few years, I doubt anyone would be able to match your healing prowess.” He looked to her and was unsurprised to see the morose expression on her face. “The magic from the broken transformation circles hasn’t been dispelled yet, which means there is enough magic to send you home if you wish.”

She touched the center of her chest and he was reminiscent of the first time he had seen her, of how she had grabbed at her chest. The nickel bracelet had long since been lost but she had replaced it with one of braided thread and shaped stones made for her by Eirena. A melancholy smile pulled across her face. “At this point, I don’t think there’s much point in sending me back. I’ve gotten too used to this world and having this body. If I had to go back to being male…” That melancholy turned sour at the thought before turning to something akin to peace. “I want to stay here where I get to be me in a body that fits me perfectly, where I can truly be myself and still be loved.”

He smiled. “Then you stay.”
Black Cauldron Circle (Writing Marathon)

It was said that Morgana had crafted a potion so potent that it could rewrite destinies, unravel time, and invoke the very essence of Halloween itself. This concoction, known as the "All Hallows' Elixir," held the power to reshape reality during the witching hour on the eve of Halloween. Little did those who would dare accept her challenges know that the All Hallows' Elixir held not only the power to change the world but also the power to change them. Morgana's tale had only just begun, and the forest whispered its secrets to those who would listen. New challenges will be revealed every 48 hours at the bottom of this post. Be sure to check back regularly!

In a minimum of 150 words, describe the witch's encounter with a mysterious moonstone, a rare and enchanted gem said to hold the secrets of the night. This moonstone is the first ingredient for her potion.

The sun was hot on her back so it should have been impossible to discern the gem from the rest of the stones along the riverbed. Had she not turned it over searching for the sprouts of river grass she needed, she would have walked right by it. Instead, the underbelly of the moonstone glittered for less than a second in the corner of her vision but it was long enough to draw her attention. Picking it up revealed nothing magical about it; the gem looked much like a water smoothed stone, the same off white as quite a number of the stones in among the riverbed. Holding it up to block the sun with her thumb and forefinger wrapped around it, she waited.

Seconds turned to minutes turned to a quarter of an hour but no matter how much her shoulder burned, she held it.

Waiting for the tell tale glitter of a moonstone.

At the cusp of her arm giving out on its own, the faintest hint of a glimmer filled her with anticipation. With sheer will she kept her arm aloft another ten until the underside of the moonstone looked reminiscent of quarts as the faintest of glows emanated from it. Blindly she grabbed for one of her empty pouches and quickly wrapped the moonstone in it before she dropped her arm. Confident the bottom side didn’t see the sun, she tucked the pouch away with excitement thrumming through her chest.

A genuine moonstone.

Spells and potions raced through her head; there were so many things she could make. What would be the-

The recipe for a certain elixir drifted into her thoughts, stopping her pondering. No. She knew exactly what she was going to make.

Now all she needed to do was get the other ingredients.
Craft a scene in a minimum of 300 words where the witch journeys deep into the haunted woods to find a rare and elusive mandrake root, the second ingredient she needs.

It was a good thing mandrake root didn’t require her being there at night. While she had no doubt that she would be able to make her way through just fine, daylight meant that she was less likely to catch the toe of a boot on anything - she pushed a branch out of the way - or run face first into branches. Honestly, why did it have to be this specific variant of mandrake root? She knew a good plot of land in a quaint little town that had a plethora of the blasted root but no. It had to be of the haunted woods where it was so rare to find, she was going to need the daylight just to help spot the bloody leaves in the rest of the undergrowth.

She huffed out a sigh, annoyed but quick to calm herself down. That was the whole point of this particular elixir: succeed in trials to prove one’s worth. Well, or so said the old texts. If she had it her way, she’d probably make it a bit different than just a few trials. Magic power would probably be better.

She paused as she crested a stout boulder and rubbed the sweat from her forehead as she looked around. Regardless, she had to do it by the book. It wasn’t her recipe and who was she to say it had to change. She could make her own recipe once she had seen what exactly the elixir was capable of.

A young woman waved at her from somewhere off the trail. Nodding in acknowledgment, she quick staked her red string to the center of the trail and placed a ring of salted stones around it. It atonement for keeping mischievous buggers away, she scattered berries and seeds for the curious ones to take instead. Satisfied, she started towards the figure.

Blessedly, the leaves of a mandrake root stood proud at the young woman’s feet. She smiled to the young woman - sickly thin but still such a beautiful soul - and nodded before reaching down and yanking the mandrake free of the soil. The young woman covered her ears but there was no point. As soon as the head was free, she shoved some of the soil back into its mouth. Pinning the soil into place with her hand, she tugged the pot from her belt and filled it with the turned soil before replanting the mandrake. She patted its buried head before pouring some of her drinking water over it to appease the disturbed root.

She rubbed as much of the soil from her hand as she could before she gently removed the old, delicate doll from her largest pouch. With her finest handkerchief and utmost care, she carefully wrapped the doll up and then buried it where the mandrake had been. The young woman smiled brightly at her before disappearing.

A heavy sigh accompanied her getting back to her feet. She truly hoped the young woman had found peace at last.
Write a spooky scene in a minimum of 500 words where the witch gathers spider silk by the light of the full moon. This silk will lend a ghostly texture to her potion.

Full moon nights were always pleasant; if one didn’t mind company, that is. She personally preferred the moonless ones for that fact alone but she wasn’t about to deny the pleasantness of a full moon one. Still, it was appreciated as she hiked through the overgrowth.

The home was mostly dark, barring the faint light in an upper window she had seen upon approaching. Still, she hoped her intrusion wasn’t met with conflict as she knocked on the door.

Something in the corner of her vision somewhere above her head drew her attention and she looked over, catching sight of not one but several tens of tiny spiders drifting down on silk coming to investigate. Most stayed well above her head but the more curious ones got far closer. The fair few that didn’t spin silk sprang forward from the ground and ceiling, traversing walls and posts to get a better look. One very exuberant jumping spider landed on her walking staff, turned to face her, and then jumped onto her shoulder just as the door opened.

“Ah! None of that, little one!” Despite the rushed words, the hands were slow in cupping around the harmless spider and coaxing it onto a palm. “You know we don’t jump onto guests uninvited.” The gentleman standing before her adjusted his glasses as he finally paid her some mind and offered her a soft smile. “Terribly sorry for their rude behavior. We don’t often get the kinds of guests that knock all that often. Am I right to assume you are here with a request?”

“If it is no hardship,” she confirmed, looking to the nearest spider hanging from spider silk. “I have a potion that requires spider silk gathered by the light of the full moon and I was told you have quite the extensive knowledge as to which silk would be best.”

“Ah! Yes!” The gentleman turned and urged the jumping spider back onto the house. “Of course!” It took a moment before the spider complied but it turned right around to watch. The gentleman opened the door wide as he ducked back into the home. “Come in, come in. I’ll have some tea made but you’ll want to head right up to the attic.”

She paused in the doorway long enough to offer the end of her staff to the jumping spider. It happily leapt onto the flat top and hunkered down for the ride as she started for the stairs. The stairs were well lit, as was what she assumed was the kitchen, and she made a note to apologize for the late hour. Ascending the stairs, she found the attic access easily enough as the door had been removed and the narrow, barren stairs were rather telling. The edges were completely covered in spider silk, several styles of webs overlaying each other in the nooks and crannies to make it nearly impossible to tell what spiders dwell there. There were certainly a good few hundred scattering every which way as she ascended.

The attic was thick with spiderwebs but there was a clear path to walk and an area that looked deliberately untouched. It wasn’t the largest of areas but the she could understand why as movement at the other end of the attic drew her attention. She leaned on her walking staff as she waited, the jumping spider raising its front two legs as if reaching out or waving to what was moving at the other end. She knew what it was the moment it started moving despite never meeting one in person. A human body from the waist up, spider waist down, she now understood how the gentleman downstairs was rumored to have such extensive knowledge.

She dipped her head. “Apologies for the intrusion. The one downstairs beckoned me here.”

A smile pulled across the tired looking face. “I have been dutifully informed.” A wide gesture to encompass the room belayed, “They are quite talkative about any guest we receive. You are the first in quite a while that had been so polite and careful of where you step.”

She smiled wryly. “It is best to not cause a bother if I am requesting something in turn.”

They laughed. “Quite right. Moon soaked spider silk, then?”

She raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “‘Gathered in the light of the full moon’ was all I was given.”

They nodded, already picking their way towards the attic window. When they returned, the gentleman was ascending the stairs with a tray of three cups and a steaming tea pot. The gentleman smiled sweetly to the half human, half spider. “Thank you, Erevan.”

“I would have had to fetch it either way,” they said, passing her a small bundle of spider silk that looked like a thin spool of embroidery floss. “This should work well for what you need. Silk of a moon spider hatched under a full moon’s light whose thread was plucked in the same light. Will it be enough?”

She carefully tucked the small bundle into her bag, offering, “Possibly more than. I will return what I don’t use.”

“Think of the rest as a gift,” they encouraged, a tired smile on their lips. “So long as you enjoy a cup with us and schedule a time to come back and visit.”

She smiled, taking a cup from the gentleman. “That sounds reasonable enough. Thank you.”
Describe the witch's daring midnight flight to collect bat wings in a minimum of 1000 words. These wings are said to imbue her cauldron's contents with an eerie flutter.

The clock chimed half past, warning her that she was cutting it close. She barely reacted as she stood there with a thoughtful gaze out the window. Of all the nights for a raging storm to settle in for the night, this certainly wasn’t the best. If she could postpone her flight, she would, but the blue moon was out above the storm clouds and there was no other night she could get the ingredient without starting all over. Well, the moonstone would be fine for a while yet, but the rest of it…

At least she was prepared for this sort of thing. She didn’t fly often but it wasn’t like she never flew and there had been times when the weather hadn’t been the greatest. Unfortunately, this particular ingredient meant she couldn’t use magic to fortify herself against the raging storm so mundane items it was.

The full-face helmet was meant for a motorcycle or equivalent but she found it worked fantastic for flying as well. The face shield wasn’t tinted but there was a piece that slid down that was. Made flying at night a lot safer than the tinted ones, that was for sure, and it would mean she would be able to see her target, too. She donned her warmest gear with quick hands unsure if it would be warm enough. Unfortunately she needed to be able to move to catch this particular ingredient which meant that she couldn’t layer as much as she would have under other circumstances. Ah well. No use crying over spilled potions.

Snagging her broom from where it rested, she opened the door and stepped out just as the clock chimed quarter till.

The wind shoved at her immediately and she stumbled sideways a few steps under its pressure. She pinned her broom under her arm as she braced against the wind long enough to make sure her front door was closed and locked before working her way down the front steps. Visibility was nearly nonexistent as she tucked the broom under her with both hands grasping it. She let go now and she would never find the poor thing again.

Takeoff was more involuntary than she would have liked. As soon as her feet lost traction with the ground, the wind was throwing her sideways across the ground. She barrel rolled a few times before she managed to straightened out, grateful she had quickly gained altitude before a tree brushed her knees on her last roll. That could have been nasty.

The only reason she managed to gain any altitude was due to the countless years of flying she had done and a thorough understanding of flight and how it worked. Managing to actually fly relatively straight came from her years of experience in extreme winds and not just flying. Though, she could do without the blasted weather on top of the winds. Thankfully, she didn’t need to see to aim for the clouds.

Breaking through the clouds was an ordeal. The moment she popped out of the top, she pulled her broom into as much of a stop as was possible with the high altitude winds and went about clearing the face shield and wiping herself off, not that the latter did much. It would seem she was just going to be cold and stiff from the moisture until she got home.

Following the stars, she made her way towards the bat flight path. She hadn’t bothered to pack a watch as she wouldn’t have been able to check it bundled as she was but she still wished she had brought one. Logic aside, she was worrying about how much time was passing. If she was too late due to the storm-

Quite a number of stars started blinking incessantly along the horizon. For a moment, she didn’t quite understand what she was seeing until she got closer and could differentiate bat from sky, though it was just barely. Anticipation rushed through her and she urged her broom on just a little faster, her gaze now sweeping over the cloud of bats as she drifted across the top of it.

They seemed unbothered by her presence despite the broom she flew on but there was no telling how long that would last. She slowed her broom until the cloud of bats started slowly drifting forward from under her as she scanned the bats for one in particular. Calling the bats a cloud was rather accurate as she was certain she had looked the specific bat over twice because of how much the bats didn’t maintain any given position in the grouping. The specific bat simply made it to the top when she finally spotted it and she dived hard and precise for it.

This time the bats did care and scattered at her sudden presence. Her hand closed around her target, though, and held on securely as she simply kept going. The bat fought her as best it could with one wing awkwardly pinned and her holding it from the back. It tried biting her and smacking her but to no avail. She brought it to her chest as she reentered the storm cloud and the poor thing fell still enough for her to tuck it into the bag on her waist.

The storm was still thick around her house when she made it back. She had to fly parallel to the door just to even get to it and open it. How she didn’t land on her face upon the door slamming open and yanking her inside was beyond her. Still, she would take small graces as she shoved the door shut and locked it before going about putting everything away.

The bat was perturbed when she pulled it out but it remained still in her grasp as she placed it on a cushion on the table. She gently rubbed the patch of discolored fur at the back of its neck as her other hand checked over the wings. It screechy squeaked at her and started thrashing.

“Hush, little one,” she soothed, stopping her check to pin its wings to keep it from hurting itself. She kept gently rubbing the patch. “You have no use for the extra wings and you know it. Trust me when I say the last thing I wish to do is cause you any harm in their removal. If you stop thrashing and lay still, I will set about to make it painless.”

The bat - or, more precisely, the seraphim bat - seemed to glare at her as it settled down. Seraphim bats had been named long before she had ever been born and she thought the name was rather ridiculous. Seraphim bats were rare as they were magical creatures born among nonmagical variants and possessed six wings (or three pairs) yet only needed one pair to fly. They used all of them to fly but it wasn’t necessary so taking their extra wings was far preferred in her opinion. What helped, though, was that they would be far more effective than the nonmagical variants and a seraphim bat could regrow wings, though it would take a good while and they wouldn’t be as strong as before.

If they grew unaided, at least. With quick work of both magic and hands, she plucked the extra pairs of wings from the seraphim bat’s body and healed the bat’s body before allowing it to move. She offered it familiar foods and rubbed its head. “If you wish, I will contribute the necessary magic over the coming fortnight to help your wings come back nice and strong. During your stay you will be well fed and well tended.”

It nipped at her, agitated, but didn’t leave the cushion as she went to store the wings properly.
Write a short one-act play script in which the witch interacts with the cunning crows while gathering feathers in the dark forest. The script should be no shorter than 300 words and should emphasize dialogue and stage directions.

The scene opens up to a forest lit by the midday sun. Leaves cover the ground and foliage is sparse. Scattered among the leaves are a few crow feathers and even fewer of other birds. WITCH enters from stage left center at a leisurely pace and crosses to downstage left. Here WITCH stoops to pick up a not-crow feather and examine it. Cackling is heard offstage right before three CROWS enter upstage right. CROW ONE spots WITCH and stops upstage center, causing CROW TWO and CROW THREE to run into CROW ONE. The three CROWS whisper excitedly. WITCH doesn’t seem to notice and puts the feather down. CROW ONE crosses to downstage left center. CROW TWO crosses to center right. CROW THREE crosses to upstage right center.

WITCH stands and crosses to center.

CROW ONE
To other CROWS
Been a bit since we’ve one like her about in daylight.

WITCH stoops again, picking up a crow feather.

CROW THREE
How often do you see their kind during the day, anyway?

CROW TWO
Short laugh
Not often enough for this to be normal.

CROW ONE
They’re usually in here during the night to be all mystical and stuff. They say the magic’s more potent then and you can find all the best magic things then.

The three CROWS laugh.

CROW TWO
Still laughing
How ridiculous!

CROW THREE
Laughing dies down
Do they really think that?

WITCH
It depends solely on what they’re looking for.

The CROWS squawk and flail in surprise as WITCH stands regarding the three neutrally.

CROW THREE
To CROW ONE
They can understand us?

CROW TWO
To self
That’s not possible.

CROW THREE
They never understand us.

CROW ONE
Gestures for other CROWS to calm down
Calm down you two. I’m sure it’s just a fluke.
A skeptical glance at WITCH
A very, conveniently timed and scarily accurately worded fluke.

WITCH
Raises an eyebrow
If that helps you sleep at night; yeah, we can go with that.

The CROWS squawk and flail again as WITCH starts moving about looking for more feathers.

CROW THREE
Screechy
It understood us!

CROW TWO
To CROW ONE, shouting
What the heck? They never understand us! You said we’d get to joke like always.

WITCH
Stoops to pick up an interesting rock
You still can. My being able to understand you doesn’t have to change that.

CROW TWO
To WITCH
Not if we’re joking about you! You would yell at us!

WITCH
Pauses before looking to CROW TWO
Why would I yell at you for telling jokes?

CROW THREE
People get mad when jokes are about them.

WITCH
Are you being mean?

CROW THREE
Flounders
Ah, well, I mean- we just-

CROW ONE
Cutting in, attempting a sly bravado
It’s all in good fun, Witch. The jokes just sound harsh but we don’t actually mean anything by it.

WITCH looks to CROW ONE as CROW TWO and CROW THREE quickly vocalize their agreement.

WITCH
Unimpressed but still neutral
Uh-huh. Well…
WITCH stands and crosses to CROW ONE
I would suggest that you stop being mean even if you can’t be understood. But…
WITCH takes CROW ONE’s right hand and places the stone in it
You are your own and it is your choice to be mean or not. Though, I would strongly suggest being kinder, seeing as you never know who might be able to understand you.

WITCH crosses to downstage right center at a leisure pace and stoops to examine another not-crow feather.

CROW ONE examine the stone. CROW TWO and CROW THREE draw closer, curious. CROW ONE pockets the stone before CROW TWO and CROW THREE can get a good look at it. CROW ONE crosses to WITCH as CROW TWO pouts and CROW THREE is disheartened.

CROW ONE
Looking over WITCH’s right shoulder
Why are you gathering feathers?

WITCH
I need them for a potion.

CROW ONE
Why not come at night?

WITCH
Rubs feather end into CROW ONE’s face
It’s far easier to find what I need in the daylight.
Stands
Trying to find black feathers in the dead of night is like trying to find a piece of straw in a grass field.

WITCH crosses towards center. CROW ONE follows.

CROW ONE
But why black feathers? Why not the other kinds?

WITCH
Shrugs, facing CROW ONE coming to a stop at center
I need the black ones. Simple as that.

CROW ONE goes to speak but is interrupted by CROW TWO and CROW THREE shoving in between CROW ONE and WITCH, CROW TWO and CROW THREE crowding WITCH. CROW ONE is annoyed at first but settles to watch.

CROW TWO
Mad but also disappointed
Why does he get a stone and we don’t!

CROW THREE
Sad
Are we not good crows?

CROW TWO
Still mad
Give us stones too!

CROW THREE
Hopeful
Even if we’re not good crows, can we still get a trinket, too?

WITCH
Amused, pats CROW TWO and CROW THREE on the head
I still have to find your trinkets.
Thoughtful
Though, if you help me find black crow feathers that are still in good condition-
Gently bops CROW THREE on the head as CROW THREE goes to pluck a feather
And are found on the ground, not plucked from your own bodies, it will give me time to find you both a trinket. What do you say?

CROW TWO and CROW THREE
Ok!

The scene slowly fades on CROW TWO and CROW THREE running around picking up feathers. CROW THREE picks up every feather found while CROW TWO brings only the black ones. CROW ONE keeps WITCH company as WITCH is kind in turning down the feathers that are not needed. CROW ONE and WITCH talk while CROW TWO and CROW THREE are not nearby.
Write a scene in which the witch encounters a sentient tree within the enchanted forest. The tree presents her with a riddle that she must solve to obtain a key ingredient for her potion.

It had been some time since she had last wandered this particular enchanted forest. It was still as unmappable as ever, the forest shifting locations and trees about so that it was nigh impossible to walk the same path over and find the same destination. Not that she minded. The creatures residing within the forest were kind enough to guide her whenever she came. The tawny house cat she was following now was even far more patient than any other feline she had worked with in the enchanted forest, meandering only a few feet ahead of her instead of getting yards away and waiting impatiently for her to catch up only to bound ahead again.

The tawny cat stopped on a rise and sat down, looking back at her with a neutral gaze. She rubbed its head and then its cheek at its own request and then the cat padded away, most likely towards home, as she set her gaze on the tree before her.

She would have liked to have called it ancient but it wasn’t all that much older than she was. Still, it was sentient and that had been her only request.

“I was wondering who was traveling the forest,” the tree said, sounding amused. “It has been quite some time for you since your last visit, has it not?”

“It has indeed.” She patted the trunk, the bark still hardy and healthy under her palm. “I have a request.”

“I have a riddle.”

She smiled at that. “I need a branch of new growth if you would be willing to part with one.”

“Only if you answer my riddle; I have a good one this time.”

“Let’s see if you stump me this time.”

The upper branches of the tree quaked yet she got the impression that the tree was excited. “Simple markings circle my face. The best thing I can do is point. Take me along to stay on track. What am I?”

Immediately ‘clock’ and ‘compass’ sprang to mind, though she amended ‘clock’ was more likely to be ‘watch’ with the last line, but seeing as they were in an ever changing forest, she went with, “You are a compass.”

This time the entire tree shook, excitement and laughter all in one motion. “I had hoped to trick you with that one but it would seem you are as quick as ever.” Something fell from the branches above her head and she looked down to see a freshly broken new growth branch laying by her foot. “As promised: a branch of new growth for answering my riddle.”

She picked the branch up with care, as if it were as precious as silk or gold. “I will have to visit again soon so that we may simply exchange riddles and tales.”

“I would like that very much. Do you need assistance leaving?”

She smiled at the tree. “I appreciate the offer but I think I’ll wander for a bit. Thank you, though.”

“Safe wanderings, then.”
Engraved stones cradled by fog
Countless others hidden underneath
Faint whispers of wind trace along the top
Whisps of fog follow after

If there is a path, it’s hidden from sight
The fog so thick even shoes vanish within
Careful footfall taps against pavement and the occasional crispy leaf
The only assurance in order to not trip over the dead

The fog waned the deeper she moved
Weaving this way and that until stones became smooth
From the first she had seen these markers seemed ancient
The boundary between old and new blurred too finitely to see

Nature retook what land had been claimed
People long forgotten regrowing the land
Broken stones lay strewn about
Countless other markers forever buried in the soil

Except for one monument caught between massive trees
An abnormality in among the woods
Strong stone walls seem unaffected by time
Still strong, still whole, against the relentless fauna

To step on the land the monument claimed
Gave proof of how unwelcomed she would be
Magic pushed and pulled and urged her away
Yet she knelt there in the soil and spoke the words anyway

The words were foreign as most ancient texts were
Unpracticed and heavy yet sure was each word
She turned the soil before her knees
And took only that which she would need.

In exchange for the soil she removed
Carefully she replaced it with soil of her own
Fresh as it was compared to the old
The soil was still damp from against her home
Soul bound to magic
Woven life and memories
From head to cauldron