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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

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The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 24 - If You Want Me...

Masterlist; Chapter 23

Summary: Tension reaches its boiling point when you overhear an unfortunate conversation. With unexpected allies, you attempt to break the impasse once and for all.

Warnings: ANGST (still but... well you’ll see ;)); at few points R! is being a little dramatic which can be triggering if you’ve been dealing with intrusive thoughts (nothing too bad though); swearing.

Author’s Notes: Finally! It’s been a wild ride... and god am I happy i’ve managed. This part took a lot of effort but I quite like what I came up with... even if sometimes it gets too angsty. Can’t wait for what’s coming next, however... :)))) Hope you enjoy and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

The shooting range on the icebreaker was a strange place. It occupied a large proportion of the deck floor in the accommodation part of the ship, next to the turnstile and sparring grounds. With darkness swallowing every corner that was not lit up by the blinking fluorescents, it was a perfect place to hide. Soon it became your go-to solace when things got difficult, and the only other idea you could come up with involved going outside without the oxygen mask attached. You did not want to go that far. Yet. Target practice became your favourite occupation. It was simple and did not involve talking to people that could give you worrying looks or comment on the dark circles underneath your eyes. Sleep was no longer a thing, with you catching three-hour-long naps at best, in between never-ending worrying and staring at the ceiling, reminiscing the past. The constant headaches were something you soldiered through, accepting them as a part of reality. The worst part of that new life was the fact that you and Neil stopped talking to each other altogether. Not even empty pleasantries could get through the stone-cold awkwardness and tension capable of killing you before the heartache would. After a day of near-misses and horrifying mistakes that culminated with you accidentally spilling boiling water all over the sweater when Neil entered the galley, you both mastered the art of hiding. You only saw him once afterwards, sitting at the table in the corner of the canteen. That was almost two days ago, and you were thankful.

Once you went through the assigned daily rounds, you moved onto the task of cleaning the guns and rifles. Polishing the metal cases and arranging the bullets was as close to therapy as it could get. With the repetitive action occupying your brain, there was no time to get emotional over things you could not change. Only at the shooting range, you did not feel so utterly hopeless. So terribly unloved. A sudden noise by the airlock made you look up. Conveniently the air in the range was sealed so that you need not to worry about oxygen masks during the target practice. It also meant you got approximately five seconds warning to check the identity of the intruder. This time you were surprised.

“Hi, Y/N. Thought I’d find you here” TP’s dark gaze slid over you cautiously.

Taking off the mask, he joined you at the makeshift table, looking at the arsenal you have spread over the surface. You eyed him with curiosity. That was unexpected. So far, he has never interacted with you outside of the meetings. And every time he did, you could not stop thinking about how much he knew. Who did he see when he looked at you?

“Afternoon” shaking off the reverie, you offered him a tight smile, “Is it afternoon?” glancing at the watch, you grimaced, “Oh,”

The last time you checked, it was 3 pm. The blue numbers on your wrist were mercilessly ticking away. 8:30 pm. How the fuck. TP caught your silent crisis as he asked:

“How long have you been down here?” looking up, you encountered a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

Interesting.

“Umm, five hours?” it felt like the best estimate.

It was probably longer. But he need not know that.

“Jesus,” wincing, he directed his taxing gaze back onto you, “When was the last time you had food?” tone strictly business.

The truth was that you did not remember. With everything falling apart and losing meaning, food became an afterthought. Half the time you would realise you only had one meal around 1 am, forcing you to tiptoe to the kitchen and grab something from the cupboard. A hungry stomach was nothing compared to all the other issues. It could be ignored.

“Breakfast. I’m not hungry though,” brushing off the concern you chose defiance, “Is this an interrogation?” you arched one eyebrow and cocked the gun you have wiped clean.

TP snorted at your comedic timing.

“No, I come here in peace” he raised his hands in defeat and added, “To see if you’re… alright” the hesitation made you scoff.

“You know that I’m not. Because things are generally far from alright,” letting annoyance slip into the sentence, you let go of the tools and met his gaze with coldness.

The deepening frown was concerning. You were being unfair. After all, it was not him who has caused all this pain. Remorse nipped at your heart as you sighed heavily.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary,” he accepted your apologetic smile with a nod, giving the courage to continue, “And I’m also sorry that you all have to witness that mess in the meetings. I’d rather it stayed between him and me... but he seems to disagree” you shrugged.

Sometimes you did wonder why Neil seemed so intent on making your arguments a public spectacle. Whether that was a part of the intricate plan to make you look like an idiot or a result of his emotions boiling over. Not that it mattered. Everyone on the team knew what the deal was anyway. A poor, naïve you, desperately in love with someone who could not care less. Nothing out of the ordinary. Judging by TP’s passing frown, for him too the topic was rather uncomfortable. He took a long moment to respond, looking for answers in the rows of bullets you have arranged on the table.

“Not going to lie, it’s awkward, but at least I know what’s going on, and I can offer to listen” he met your gaze with newly found determination.

Okay… Confiding in TP was quite low on the list of things you expected to have the opportunity of doing. But then so was having to convince Neil not to get himself killed for the sake of the operation. Anything goes.

“Aren’t you taking a side?” that suspicious voice in your head was difficult to get rid of, “Agreeing with him that I’m stupid, emotional, and overall a burden?” you recited the memorized litany of epithets with a stone-cold expression.

The words have lost their meanings after you have put them apart in the quiet of your mind. Now they were just sounds, incapable of inflicting pain. It was the least that could be done.

“He went too far with that” TP winced, his eyes expressing traces of disapproval, “I might not know you well, but you’re none of these things,” a sympathetic smile softening the tone.

An open hand. An olive branch. Why not? Taking a deep breath, you got ready to open up before the most unexpecting of allies.

“In a way, he was right though…” you looked down, trying to find the needed strength, “I am stupid because I have allowed myself to care too much for him” there it is, “And now I’m paying for it” when you met his eyes again, you found nothing but thoughtfulness.

It was something you thought about often as well. The fact that Neil was right, you did care, and that it was perhaps the reason for your demise. But who could blame you for falling for the bastard looking like the devil? And equally charming too.

“Maybe it’s a little too forward, but-” TP’s tentative tone made you grin.

In moments like this, you acutely remembered that he was still a rookie. Not used to the half-truths and strange tenets you accepted as your credo. His innocence was adorable even.

“In this profession, a it’s sometimes nice to say the truth. Shoot away” you waved your hand dismissively, anticipating the question.

There is a first time for everything.

“Fair point” he mirrored your smile before asking, “Do you love him?”

Plain and simple. Ignoring the panic, you took a moment to ponder the answer. It was… obvious. You told Neil as much twice before, and no amount of pretending and lies could ever undo it. The words were his. Just as you were. Unfortunately.

“I’d want to say no, that I got over it, but… Yes, I do,” you offered the answer with a helpless frown, “Think any idiot can see it” noticing a hint of embarrassment briefly you patted TP’s shoulder, “No matter how much he hurts me, I always find myself wishing things could be… like they once were”

Whatever that meant. In truth, you wanted more. You wanted to wake up next to him every morning. You wanted affirmations of love every day as you tasted his coffee-stained lips. You wanted to lie in his embrace, feeling desired and loved. But most of all, you wanted to be able to lace up your fingers with his, following the instincts that became your second nature. To card your fingers through his silky golden strands and to give him everything he would desire. You wanted to be his. He was supposed to be yours. Or was the universe wrong?

Thoughts of that kind could be lethal. Shaking yourself awake, you met TP’s eyes. Apart from the lack of surprise at your admission, you noticed something strange. A passing realization. As though he has heard something similar before but was afraid to speak up. Once again, you found yourself wondering what Neil told him. What did he mean by ‘things you and I should explain to each other’? For a moment, you wanted to jump head in and ask. But what good would knowing the truth be when you could not act on it? As though aware of your increasing dilemma, the man spoke up again.

“I’m sorry for Oslo” your eyes widened at the reminder.

“Why?” blurting out the question, you eyed him cautiously.

The deepening discomfort radiating off him confirmed your assumptions. That was it. He knew what nearly happened that night. And he was flustered about his role in it. That was not the conversation you ever expected to have.

“I can’t help but think that maybe if I hadn’t… interrupted you, it would’ve-” he stumbled over the sentence somewhat endearingly.

Perhaps it was the lack of care that made you say the next words. Or maybe just the fact that nothing mattered anymore, and so who could judge you for the purest form of honesty.

“Doubt it,” interrupting him with a sour smile, you added, “Maybe it’s good you knocked then… Least he doesn’t have absolutely everything” noticing the alarm painted on TP’s face, you blushed.

Yep, too far. Still true, however.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t have to know that much” you brushed off the sudden awkwardness with a sincere apology.

“I can pretend I’ve never heard it” it was his turn to give a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

You could feel the strange companionship forming. Sure you did not mind. Relaxing back in the chair, you spoke up:

“Thanks,” as TP also visibly reclined, you brought up the thought that was not letting go of your mind, “I don’t know how much he has told you about… this,” gesturing vaguely, you bit your lip.

Somehow you knew that he would not betray Neil by sharing with you everything that has been said. But even crumbs would do…

“Quite a bit,” you watched him closely, intrigued by the hesitation, “Enough for me to know that you’re someone I can trust and that he had reasons to be acting that happy in Tallinn before the action” oh.

That painful pang in your heart was heart to ignore. You winced, feeling the steady gaze fixed on your face. The analysis was mutual. Neil, happy, back in Tallinn. Because of you. You have lost too much.

“What do you mean?” treading carefully, you asked the safest of questions.

A small smile on his face showed you just how obvious you were. Lovesick idiot.

“Hours he has spent texting someone, phone calls he would pick up instantly and then come back grinning like a madman” TP offered you examples with a glimmer in his eyes “It only clicked when we were inverting, and I asked him about you” the blush on your cheeks deepened under his taxing gaze “Suddenly all of that made sense if you were in Estonia with us” he shrugged, finishing the thought.

Oh my god. While you experienced it all firsthand during those chaotic yet hopeful days in the safehouse when everything seemed to have infinite potential, hearing about it from someone else’s perspective felt strange. Almost like a slap in the face. Because it only confirmed what you knew – he once loved you. Once.

“Well, it seems like he has changed his mind…” you muttered, feeling the resentment settle in.

You wondered whether one day it would stop hurting. If you could ever get over this and find someone else. That darkest part of your brain knew the answer well enough. Nothing could come close. And nothing ever would.

“Or he’s just an idiot” the cheeriness felt forced.

But judging by the way TP was staring at you, you could tell it was his attempt at dispersing the sudden melancholy. It was strange to see him worried about you of all people. Perhaps your shit attempts at diverting everyone’s attention from your declining mentality were failing. And that was a reason to be concerned.

“That too,” plastering on an unconvincing smile, you stifled a yawn.

That caught his attention.

“You should get some rest” upon further thought, he added, “And food,”

The intensity of his look was stifling. You hated being the centre of attention. Especially in moments like this when you felt vulnerable, an object of pity and unease. Stupid, weak, and useless. The sabotaging voice came out in full force, making you want nothing but to curl up in bed and disappear. Not yet, however.

“Yes, sir” you raised your hand in mock salute.

Your face fell when instead of a laugh, you got a frown in response. Oopsie.

“I’m serious” TP seemed to consider something quickly before placing his hand on your forearm, “I’m… I’ve been a little worried about you” he met your eyes with a clear purpose.

Shit. That is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Being seen as pathetic and a burden. Internally, you cursed yourself for not being strong enough. For letting anyone see the cracks. You would not let them see you shatter into pieces.

“I’m doing fine,” mustering the happiest of grins, you tried to mask the urgency.

Please buy the bullshit.

“Are you?” he didn’t. Before your brain could fully arrive at the panic station, his inquisitive expression softened. You held his gaze for a beat, hoping to convey everything. Hoping to convince him to let the conversation go. It worked for TP gave a final taxing look before backing off. You exhaled slowly, relaxing a little. Maybe the worst was over…

“Before we go… there’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about…” TP changed the subject, looking down at the table “The lock. You want to go with him”

It was not exactly a question, yet you knew he expected an answer. That one you could easily give him. It was obvious, even if you have never said it out loud. Up till now.

“Yes... Maybe it is an impulsive and stupid thing to do, but I can’t let him do it alone. I can’t let him get killed” the word felt foreign in your mouth.

As though ‘Neil’ and ‘death’ were two irrelevant concepts that did not fit together even in theory. They could not. You would not allow it. And you were willing to accept the worst of risks to make sure it would not happen. Hell, you would even fight against fate and time to assure that.

“I’d rather avoid that too” TP’s quiet comment made you look up, “He deserves so much more than…” there was something startling in his gaze.

As though he has stopped himself before saying too much. Much more than what? And why was he looking at you like that? Like you were missing something tragic, and his heart was breaking for your loss. You felt like going insane. TP cleared his throat awkwardly, resuming the conversation, not at all fluently:

“I don’t buy the whole ‘what’s happened, happened’. What does that even mean?” the irritation shining through his strange tone was distracting.

“Don’t ask me,” you shrugged, “I like to think there’s a different solution to this. One that doesn’t involve Neil sacrificing himself. And I need to be there with him because if it comes to it… I’d take that bullet for him” you did not know where the honesty came from.

Or why you would admit something that fundamental to TP. His response was just as anticipated – a gasp and widened eyes. Nibbling on your lower lip, you broke the eye contact and chose to stare at the forgotten gun lying on the table. It was the truth, so why did admitting it feel so… radical?

“Are you sure?” when he found his voice again, it was hoarse.

“It’s that kind of love,” you replied, still unable to meet his gaze.

You never expected to reveal yourself like that to TP. Wheeler? Maybe. Even Kat seemed like a probable option, but not the boss himself. And especially not at this stage of his story. Yet he was there, willing to listen, and that was enough. You would deal with the consequences later, in your mind that would undoubtedly rebel against such a display of fragility.

“I don’t want it to sound patronizing… but you’re still young. There might be someone else for you along the line if Neil-” his voice broke through your reverie as you interrupted him with a start.

“I know” finally, you raised your head again, showing the sincerity of expression, “But something tells me it’s him or nothing. Call it fate or insanity” biting back a dry chuckle, you felt a single tear form in the corner of your eye.

That was something you have spent most of the time thinking about. At the start, you desperately wanted to believe that you would get over this. That it was just another disappointment, and like before, eventually you would forget about those blue eyes and maniacal grin. But your heart knew better, constantly reminding you that it was not that simple. That Neil was not someone you just forget. Because how could you?

“Reality?” TP’s eyes were filled with thoughtfulness.

“Perhaps,” you cracked a smile, feeling heaviness in your heart lift by an inch.

Always something. Another yawn ended the delicate moment seconds later, making you scowl in annoyance. What was the point of tiredness when you could not even rest properly? TP laughed at your pained expression and got up:

“Now, you into the kitchen. And try to get some sleep” he offered you a hand which you took and stood up.

“I’ll try” a lie, “Thank you… for checking in and listening” sheepishly, you tried to find any words of gratitude.

“I owed you that after those hours in Oslo, filled with plans, coffees, and awful songs you’d sing to entertain us” the knowing smirk suggested that he did remember what you hoped would be forever forgotten.

MTV in Norwegian. Your knackered brain deciding that singing along to ‘Like a Virgin’ and ABBA was what had to be done to make everyone smile. Mistakes have been made.

“Don’t remind me,” TP laughed as you smacked him on the shoulder.

*** You did not sleep after you bid goodbye to TP. That night too was spent tossing and turning in bed, thinking about how everything could have crumbled so quickly. It has only been weeks since Tallinn. In fact, looking from the linear point of view, it has not even happened yet. The normal you have been enjoying the confusion of those days before Oslo when everything was difficult yet hopeful. Too good to be true, at times. Well, now you knew that those moments never lasted too long.

The next morning you quickly grabbed breakfast and sneaked into the sparring area, hoping to catch a few minutes with the punching bag before the troops would take over space. However, that day it was not meant to be.

You heard the voices as soon as you opened the airlock and entered the large room. It was divided into a few sections, each devoted to a different training exercise. To your advantage, each was also separated with a thin plastic screen. Cautiously, you approached the nearest divider, trying to determine whether your mind was not playing any tricks. After one second, you knew. TP and Neil were having a rather heated conversation on the other side of the screen. A sparring ground was the place you least expected to encounter them. And yet… You wanted to turn away and leave before more damage could be done, but the moment you heard the boss’s voice, you froze on the spot:

“Why are you so hard on her?” TP’s question rung out clear in the highly domed room “The only crime she has committed was falling in love with you. I don’t think that’s worth all that pain you’re inflicting”

There was no doubt as to who he meant. Your heart sank. Oh my god. On one hand, it was encouraging to know someone was fighting for your side and pointing out the unnecessary torture Neil was so keen on. But the fact that they were discussing the nature of your feelings was terrifying. Listening on felt wrong, yet you could not move away.

“It would be better for her if she hadn’t” Neil’s cold tone made your blood turn to ice.

There was something frightening in how distant he sounded. As though he was nothing like the man you fell in love with, only a cold impostor that borrowed his face and voice. He was right.

“Why? You told me that you love-” TP’s voice rose, incredulity tinging every single word.

Neil told him his feelings. You expected that, and it still felt like a punch. You leaned on the wall for support.

“It doesn’t matter what I said” the biting edge to Neil’s voice was new, “Or how I feel. The sooner she gets over it, the better for all of us” he threw it without caution, as though he was done with your bullshit.

With the fact that you were stupid enough to love him. He did not want your love. Never did. The crushing weight on your chest would not give way.

“You’re cruel” TP was surprised, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

“That’s mercy” Neil was begging for the conversation to be over, “Cruelty would be letting her entertain the idea that we can...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Christ. All those nights spent wishing for answers, and when they came you wanted to forget you ever heard it. It was foolish to believe anything could ever happen between you.

“But why? Neil, you are in love with her” TP raised his voice yet again, utterly done with whatever the blonde bastard was doing.

You could not care less. Nothing mattered anymore. But you did not expect the very next punch. Or the pain you would feel.

“I’m not” clear-cut rejection; nothing to interpret “I don’t love her. There’s no need to look at me like I’m a monster”

Enough. You heard enough. The pain was as bad as ever as you walked away. Your mind set on one simple thing - tea. Yes, that would solve it.

*** Going to the galley felt as though you were stuck within a dream you could not shake off. Half-aware of your surroundings, you nearly walked into Dominic, whose survival instincts kept him off your path. Muttering apologies, you undid the zip lock and sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world. With a start, you noticed Kat sat at the table. She gave you a welcoming half-smile as she sipped the tea from the metal cup. Your autopilot stuttered, overwhelmed by the company. Blocking off any attempts at thinking, you followed the muscle memory. Setting the kettle on. Putting teabag into the mug. Earl Grey because it reminded you of those morning kisses in London. No. Wrong memory. You shook your head, waiting for the water to boil. The fridge was too loud, the buzz making thoughts appear. Sighing, you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were burning, the sensation increasing with every single blink. It was alright. So why did it feel like the world was ending?

The kettle switched off. Without sparing a single thought to the reality, you poured the water in, watching with fascination as the teabag floated up. Kat’s spoon let out a clink as she placed it on the edge of the plate. You jumped up, startled. That was enough to break through your carefully woven barrier. The thoughts came rushing in. Neil didn’t love you. Your chest tightened as the next breath came out strained. The air was gone. Your hands shook as you tried to take out the teabag. Fuck. Everything was over. A single gasp was all you could manage before you shattered. The tears fell down your cheeks in a steady stream, blurring everything with tragedy. Choked sobs shook your frame as you desperately tried to hold on. To sanity. To reality. Anything to make the pain go away. But it would not disappear, only getting stronger. As though through the glass, you could hear someone say your name. Voice tinted with worry and urgency. But you did not care. The sobs turned into a howl as you slid down to the floor. The sounds coming from your throat sounded foreign and harsh, tearing at your vocal cords mercilessly. Oh my god. That was the break you always feared. There was no end to tears falling down your cheeks onto the floor and beneath your shirt. Slowly breathing became almost impossible, forcing out those pathetic half sniffles that only made everything worse. You wanted to do something. Anything. To make it stop. To forget. To lose the ability to feel things. Your fingers clawed at nothingness, barely losing against the desire to make all that internal pain physical. By any means necessary. Because then at least you could blame it on something concrete. And not just heartbreak. A word you despised because it sounded weak. Stupid. Easily avoidable for everyone but not you. A lost cause. A failure.

“Hey…” warm fingers gently touched your shoulder.

You raised your head. The pounding headache and lack of oxygen, making everything seem twice as difficult. Kat’s blue eyes bore into yours with concern. You have made quite the show. Self-preservation told you to get up and leave, save yourself some shame. But you would not even know where to go. Or what to do. You did not trust yourself to make reasonable choices.

“Are you alright?” Kat’s voice brought you back to the present moment.

An anchor. Maybe this could work… She was still eyeing you closely, unsure about how to act but wanting to be helpful.

“Mmmm no,” you sent her a broken smile, grateful for the handkerchief she handed, “But it’s okay. Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to-” you gestured vaguely, knowing she would catch on.

Tears were still flowing steady, threatening with dehydration should this continue. But at least the wailing subsided to quiet sobs interrupting your sentence every few words.

“Don’t apologise, we all break sometimes,” Kat squeezed your shoulder, joining you on the floor, “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was tempting. Even if terrifying. But you felt like maybe she could be the listener you needed. Someone objective enough, without any ties to Neil or you. Someone safe to confide in that would keep your secrets in safekeeping. But…

“What if someone comes in?” grasping the most idiotic of excuses, you glanced at the airlock with apprehension.

You could just about imagine what would have happened should Neil walk in during your conversation. Your heart would not take it.

“We’ll just tell them to leave,” Kat’s cheeky tone made you turn to her, “I think they’re all a little afraid of me for some reason,” she added, with a small smirk.

She crossed her long legs and sat next to you with both your backs supported by the cupboard doors.

“As they should be,” you replied, feeling strangely at ease, considering everything.

That spark in her eyes was worth the stress over being too forward for someone you barely knew.

“So…” she nudged you with her shoulder as further encouragement.

There was no more escaping it. You took a deep breath, urging your heart to stay strong. Words started spilling out without sense or order.

“Is just... the world is potentially ending in a few days, and here I am crying over the fact that someone doesn’t love me” your throat contracted upon the word as though it was forbidden “I should’ve known better. He never could want someone like me because why would he” more tears as you realised the ultimate truth “I’m not extraordinary. It all feels so stupid, pathetic. But I can’t get over it because I still love him. And I don’t know how to stop” you finished the rant on a sob that forced you to cover your face with your hands.

There it was. Out in the open. You wondered how you could have ever been naïve enough to think your feelings could be reciprocated. For him, it was just a crush. Amplified by the troubles you had to face and the recent difficulties. Nothing more. You were conveniently there when he needed someone to lean on. But if it came to it, he would never choose you.

“It’s about Neil, isn’t it?” something in her voice made you meet her gaze.

You were that obvious, huh? A panicked thought convinced you that everyone on the bloody ship knew about your weakness for the blonde bastard. Yes, even that mess sergeant that always gave you a sorry smile when you approached the counter at mealtimes. Before you could spiral down another wretched rabbit hole, you asked the most innocent of questions:

“How do you know?”

There was no point in trying to convince Kat she got it wrong. She seemed to consider something for a moment before she looked at you with newly found resilience:

“Let me tell you a story,”

You quirked your eyebrow, confused and intrigued. Might as well… Nodding at her silent question, you rested your head against the cupboard. Dried tears tinged your chapped lips with salt.

“When we were in Oslo, staying in a hotel for two nights, TP went out, and Neil stayed with me” she set up the scene with a neutral tone, “We talked a lot about everything really. He asked me about Andrei...” you glanced at Kat, noticing a passing grimace, “Normally I would shut off, but there was that calm curiosity about him, and I didn’t mind saying too much” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

You knew the feeling well, always telling Neil too much because he was such an excellent listener. Confiding even the darkest of secrets and thoughts never felt like anything significant when he reacted with that same confidence and acceptance. That was one of the reasons why the fall was unavoidable.

“Neil has that sort of effect on people,” you returned her smile, shrugging slightly.

Kat patted your hand gently, noting the look on your face. The infatuation and yearning you could not get rid of whenever you did as much as spare a thought towards him.

“I can tell... the point is that he mentioned you, as well” your eyes widened as she paused, “His friend, as he referred to you but not without stumbling over the word a little” she grinned upon your struck expression, “He told me about your role in this. That you’re an asset, excellent sharpshooter, brave as hell and equally reckless at times” my god

You blushed, feeling Kat’s taxing gaze. Friend? Suppose that’s one way of introducing you to people. It was fascinating to know that even after the mess of Tallinn, Neil valued your contributions to the mission. That he would mention you to anyone. Favourably, at that.

“Sounds about right,” frowning, you pondered the implications of her words, “So you knew who I was that morning on the bridge?” the sudden realisation felt refreshing.

That explained her looks directed at you and Neil back then. The visible consternation about the matter of your relationship.

“Yes, it clicked pretty quickly” upon your perplexed gaze, she picked up the story, “I could tell that there was more underneath all the praise. There was that longing in his eyes and a spark that lit up only for you,” Kat added, smiling as you gasped, “I asked whether love was allowed in your line of business” there was boldness in her eyes that made your heart clench. Something important was coming, “He said yes, but it’s dangerous and best avoided. Only that’s not always possible. Sometimes it gets you, and before you realise you can’t breathe another word without missing that one essential person. Your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore, and nothing can be done” oh my god.

You stared at the floor as her words sunk in. It felt surreal, as though you have wandered into a dream. A good one. But dreams could only last so long… Shaking off the haze, you glanced at the woman sat next to you. She was observing you with an enigmatic smirk gracing her features.

“He said that?” your voice came out raspy.

Just a clarification. In case you have misunderstood. But Kat was not surprised.

“Yes,” she nodded, that same sympathetic expression on her face, “Considering what I’ve seen with you and him... there’s only one person he could’ve meant” your heart dropped, as though unused to the idea “I understood it that morning on the bridge when despite the awkwardness, he was willing to defy everyone else for your sake”

Your mind wandered back. Neil’s constant presence by your side, his hand touching the small of your back and then staying there for longer than necessary. His support and trust placed in your hands without hesitation. Right now, even something that insignificant felt unattainable. But it did happen. Could it be that he meant you? Unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions, you stood up. Pacing in the tiny room, a protest came up, spilling out of your mouth:

“But I just heard him tell TP that he doesn’t love me” you swallowed hard as the reminder of the reality hit.

It was one thing to know it. Another to put it into words once again. You felt like screaming, demanding answers from the main culprit of this whole mess. But it was too dangerous. Another heartbreak could be lethal in its consequences.

“Sometimes we lie to ourselves to save the pain” the quiet certainty of Kat’s voice kept you grounded.

It felt risky to believe that he was pushing you away out of fear. But what if… No. You met her inquisitive gaze, hoping to convey the confusion and desperation. She must have understood for she added:

“He’s still coming to check up on me every evening, and the last two days he’s been a little… strange” the meaningful pause felt like bait.

One that you did not hesitate to take.

“How do you mean?” stopping mindless trotting, you sat down on the stool.

“Quiet, wistful, as though something was troubling him, threatening to spill out if he wasn’t too careful” a long taxing look; it sounded familiar, “Trust me, I don’t mean to give you false hope, I just thought you should know that before deciding on any further action” Kat got up and approached you.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, she squeezed it. You felt immensely grateful. Even if a little speechless… Because all of that was a lot to take in. You desperately needed a long afternoon spent in bed, staring at the ceiling and processing the eventful morning. Was it still morning?

“It means a lot, I’m not sure how I could repay you” finding the words again, you gave her a helpless smile.

“Just try to be happy. And don’t give up on things that seem too good to be true. Sometimes those are most worth keeping around” the depth of melancholy in her eyes was startling, “What will you do now?” the tentative tone assured you of the intent behind the question.

It was Kat’s way of saying: don’t do anything stupid. You could not promise that to anyone. The wounds were too fresh; emotions barely kept under control. Anything could happen. But you did not want to alarm her.

“I’m not sure. Think, probably” an unconvincing nonchalance had to do, as unprecedented honesty took voice “But I’m beginning to realise that if I won’t be able to… have him… I’ll just let him be. He deserves the best more than anybody else” you finished the thought and met her eyes.

A passing shock you found there was intriguing. As though your words reminded her of something, and she needed an additional moment to recover. God knows what sort of secrets everybody held on this god-forsaken ship… If the weight of the past and the unsaid could sink boats, it would have been long over. For everyone.

*** You thanked the gods (and Ives) for letting the topic of the lock wait out a little longer. Instead, the next morning’s meeting concerned the splinter unit, the who, and the how. As a result for once, no voice has been raised throughout the two hours spent on the bridge. Nothing much has been decided, but you did not mind. The burden of the last few days rested on your shoulders, preventing sleep or any form of relaxation. The word ‘tired’ did not even begin to describe it. But duties had to be put ahead of any personal issues and so you took part in the confab as usual. Seeing Neil after everything felt like a stab straight in the heart. His silence and the complete lack of acknowledgment of your existence were the added twist of the hilt.

The moment the meeting was over, you bolted out of the door in desperate need of fresh air. It was bound to rain later as the entire deck was covered in strange puddles that formed out of nothing. Perks of inversion and all that. Lost in thoughts concerning the locks, blonde bastards, and the torture of love as a concept and a feeling, you forgot about the golden rule of inverted rainfalls in the making – caution upon stepping on the wet surfaces. Turning around the corner, your foot slipped. Fuck. All you could do was flail your hands helplessly while praying that the fall will not be painful and that it will not detach the oxygen tank. Suffocation was not the death of your choice.

Suddenly the fall was interrupted with a strong grip on your waist. Hands pulling you upright, back to standing. The hold felt familiar. And forbidden. Turning to face the saviour, you were struck by the sight of the blue eyes that haunted your every waking hour. Every dream too. He was close, with hands wrapped around your waist securely. Somehow this felt worse than the fall. You half expected Neil to let go any second now, step away and yell at you for being clumsy. Or maybe just for existing. But he was still there. One of his hands slipped down onto your hip. Speechless, you kept on gazing into his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. All you could see was increasing the confusion. Desire. The boundless depths were drawing you in. Neil pulled you closer. Something in his face made you believe that if it was not for the oxygen masks, he would have kissed you. His gaze roamed across your features, intense, relentless, as though he could never have enough of you. It felt like being stripped bare, left exposed and vulnerable. Despite trying, you were unable to put up a guard, showing him all that he was not supposed to know instead. Everything you tried to hide and deny, bury deep inside so it could be forgotten. Well not anymore… Whatever Neil saw in your eyes woke him up. You noticed a passing frown, replaced with increasing shock. And then horror. What the hell. Before you could even process what happened, he let go and took a hasty step back. He looked sick, pale with fear and panic. Then, just as you tried to find any relevant words, Neil spoke:

“Be more careful next time,” cold and curt as though nothing happened.

He walked off briskly, disappearing into the darkness of the training grounds. What the fuck? A single drop flew up from the deck, splashing onto your chin. The rain has begun. You felt strange. Suddenly mourning the fact that you have been saved from suffocation. It would have been simpler. Less painful. Less terrifying.

*** No matter the hours passing by, or the thousands of different grounding techniques you have attempted, nothing was helping. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you wanted a multitude of things. To get blackout drunk in the hope of forgetting this morning ever happened. (You checked the galley, utterly disappointed to have found nothing with the necessary voltage). You wanted to talk to someone, briefly considering visiting Kat further down the corridor. But that would have meant being even more vulnerable. And a burden. So nope. At one point, you once again considered marching outside without the mask, letting the inverted lung membranes and fucked up rain do the rest. But you did not want to end the life itself. That was not all that bad. You liked your job, the various people you have met along the way. It was only that the current predicament was… unbearable. There had to be a different option.

Then mindless pacing replaced the stillness of lying down. Window, door, and back again. To be repeated for at least an hour. Your thoughts swirling around everything that has been said. Everything that happened. Kat’s story. The look in Neil’s eyes. What if… what if? The unknowns kept multiplying in your head, driving you insane with the extent of what you did not understand. You always hated those moments of suspense. Unsure whether to give up, let go and try to move on, or to keep trying, hoping. Your heart could never process them well without breaking and shattering into millions of pieces. Fuck.

There was one way out of it. One that you tried to push to the back of your head for the few past hours because it was too terrifying. But you were slowly running out of alternatives. One look out of the window told you that you had spent at least six hours like this. It would not do. It was either him or nothing. But you could not survive the insufferable without knowing which one it was. Taking a deep breath, you stopped in the middle of the cabin. This is it. You knew what had to be done. You put on the sweater as though in a trance, making sure to repeat silly affirmations in the quiet of your mind. It had to be alright. If it wasn’t, there were always the seals left…

The walk down the short corridor felt like ascending the steps to the guillotine. Only whatever might happen could be worse than beheading. Your hand shook as you rapped on the door to Neil’s cabin. The sound felt like the worst mistake you ever made. It was too late to turn back. After a very long moment, you heard shuffling inside. When the door opened, you were shocked by a few observations all at once. Neil’s eyes were reddened, hair in absolute disarray. When he realised that you were the intruder, his hands automatically went to smooth the strands in some way. Making even more mess in the process. In any different situation, you would have found that endearing. But your heart was too heavy. You eyed him instantaneously, gaze slipping over the fitting black thermal shirt and the joggers with narrowed cuffs. Not helpful. As you glanced back at his face, you noticed the intensifying confusion. That was the chance to speak…

“Can I come in?” a tentative start to make him more likely to agree.

The shock in his blue eyes slowly changed into careful curiosity. Neil gave you a once-over before opening the door wider and stepping back.

“Of course. Friends are allowed to visit each other” a hint of impatience as though he already had enough.

But that was not the most infuriating bit…

“Friends?” you crossed the threshold and met his eyes with the face of stone, “Sure, that’s one way of looking at what we are” the lack of reaction was inspiring, “Or were” you took a look around his room.

Equally small cabin, littered with a few personal objects. His was phone abandoned on the bedside table, a change of clothes on the floor. A naïve idiot would have taken a moment to consider the fact that maybe he was not as well as you thought. But you were past that, desperate to get answers. A reaction. An end to this madness. With resolve ever-increasing, you sat down on the edge of Neil’s bed, ready for the battle ahead. Meeting his perplexed gaze, you let the penny drop:

“I wonder with how many friends have you been kissing on the bed for two hours” a flash of recognition and then a frown.

As expected. But it still hurt.

That moment from the afternoon before the morning plane to Tallinn was one you often replayed in those desperate hours when nothing seemed to help. You were lying in bed in your room back in London, enjoying each other’s company, exchanging kisses like compliments every few minutes. Sometimes Neil would let his hands become more daring in their caress, causing goosebumps all over your skin. Bringing out sighs and making your heart overflow with love and hope that you finally found what you have been looking for. You felt wanted. You talked a lot about the future, sharing different ridiculous plans for how it could play out. Neil promised to visit your prospective farm with the sheep and dogs. Back then, judging by the look in his eyes, you dared dream that perhaps he would want to be a part of those days still to come. Now, looking at the blonde man awkwardly perching on the chair in front of you, nothing made sense. He stayed for the night then, allowing you to hug him close until the morning. You woke up first, watching him for a few minutes. The steady rise and fall of his chest. Relaxed face with hair sticking up. Calm and content. The warmth spreading from your heart inspired you to press a kiss to his lips as a means of wake up. The sight of Neil sleepy-eyed, peering up at you with a fond smile gracing his features was worth much. Maybe even the current tortures…

Facing him now, you could see the frown deepen.

“Painful memory?” you countered, watching him closely for any hints.

A mask was put on well. But there were flashes of something there. A potential… A possibility of getting burned too.

“In a way,” Neil grimaced, avoiding your piercing gaze.

He was uncomfortable, mindlessly picking on the skin around his nails and tapping his foot. That was the signal to keep on pushing. Until he would be forced to be honest.

“That’s a shame. It’s one of my favourite ones” as he looked up, you offered a deadpan smile, “Just like Oslo,” a shrug complemented with a quick scan of his body, “Though I’m not sure about that… ending,” feigning thoughtfulness you ended the harsh scrutiny.

The point was to back him up against the wall without making him throw you out. That tiny voice at the back of your head told you that he would have done that already if you were not in any way important. That voice was too confident.

“What is your point?” Neil bit back, betraying the level of annoyance you have brought with the innocent reminder.

You knew there was no more skirting around the issue. Now or never.

“Why did you do that earlier? Why did you hold me like...” you trailed off, unable to put into words what it felt like.

Like what? Like a lover. Like someone you actually cared about and not just an irritation. Like someone you could want in your life. But you could never say that to him.

“I was being a gentleman” Neil glanced at you with painfully fake indifference, “Women tend to appreciate that,” a shrug that could not fool you.

Women. The spark of jealousy burned bright. Because what if you were just another distraction. Nothing special. But then the things he said to Kat suggested otherwise. You held onto that thought and squared your shoulders. The game was on.

“...Right,” a sceptical glance in his direction before you continued, “Was that look gentlemanly too? Because last time I checked, gentlemen didn’t tend to look at women as though they wanted to…” trailing off, you awaited the response.

That would mean he took the bait. And the case was not yet lost.

“What?” the lazy tone made you meet Neil’s gaze.

He looked… off. As though before you knocked, he was not exactly fine. It was that nervousness and unkempt appearance that betrayed him. On its own accord, your heart gave out a painful thump, anticipating the fact that Neil too might have been hurting. But why? Ignoring the distraction, you found the needed words and dropped them carelessly.

“Devour them” you held his gaze confidently.

The verb felt right. As though Neil was not trusting his instincts, he looked down, breaking the contact. Putting up further guards. Bingo. He scoffed, throwing in cruelty to the mix:

“And here I was thinking you’re over… this” a vague hand gesture to show what this meant.

You. And him. That something that both was there and was not. Or rather, he wanted it to cease to exist. Only it was not that easy.

“I never said that” putting on the necessary emphasis, you kept on staring at him until he looked up.

Mouth open for another quip. That same steel-blue eyes and clenched jaw. Whatever you have been doing was working. Slowly aggravating him to the point of discomfort. You had to keep the upper hand. Neil seemed to consider something, restlessly fiddling with a pen he picked up from the bedside table. After a beat, he spoke up:

“Why are you here?” weariness in his eyes as he gave out a long exhale.

Easy question… right?

“Because I want answers” it could not be any simpler.

He flinched, letting you see the extent of panic hidden underneath the annoyance and casualness.

“What makes you think I’ve got them?” an arched eyebrow adding the mocking intonation.

The meter of space between you felt like an ocean. He was close enough for you to brush away the strand that has fallen into his eye if you only leaned in. And yet so far that you felt alone, alienated by the cold scrutiny. You had to keep going, tearing at the carefully build up armour hiding him away from you.

“Because you always have words. An abundance of them” you waited till he looked at you again before pressing on “Be it things you probably wish I have forgotten that you have once whispered between kisses” a pause, noticing the boundless unease in the blue eyes “Or all those lovely adjectives you have given me the last couple of days” using the moment of hesitation, you added, “But maybe you were right, and I am stupid, emotional-”

You could give him the whole litany. Your legacy. Exactly how much you were worth in Neil’s eyes. Unless it was a lie…? Before you could begin, Neil raised his hand, interrupting sharply:

“Okay, I get your point” no pride in that frown, almost as though he regretted it, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” the apology took you by surprise.

As did the sudden change in his face. Neil held your gaze with unusual sheepishness. As if even the act of looking at you was dangerous. Tearing the skin from his lower lip, he was the epitome of insecurity. There was no time to falter.

“Everything?” you prodded, mindful of the poker face you had to maintain.

You could not lose him now. Neil hesitated for a short moment before responding:

“Yes,” another second of eye contact, and he got up, impatiently touching the doorknob “If this is all you wanted, then I’d rather be alone-”

No. You leaped up, reaching out before he could finish the sentence. As your hand landed on his forearm, his eyes snapped to you in shock. He was not expecting you to breach the touch barrier. But there was no other choice. With heart hammering in your chest, you felt your throat tighten. Please not now…

“No,” emotions exposed in the tiny voice crack, “Neil, I’m tired of this, of you not making any fucking sense and expecting me to accept it” pleading, you let your fingers wrap around his wrist.

That had to do. Judging by the terror in his eyes, it was already too much. You could feel your resolve waning. Terrified of the consequences if this backfired. Of what you would have to do if he rejected you once and for good. Of the pain you would have to face then. But you had to be brave. He swallowed hard. You wondered what caused the goosebumps on his skin.

“If this is about earlier, then you’re blowing it out of proportion. Be more reasonable” there was a raw edge to his voice that was new.

You were close now. Enough to force Neil to stare at the ground to avoid looking at you. You noticed those dark circles under his eyes. And the tension spilling out in waves. He was scared of you. And that was a horrifying discovery. Your eyes were burning as you begged your heart to hold on. You had to survive this.

“It’s not just that” betraying the nerves, you took a greedy inhale, “It’s what you told Kat in Oslo. It’s how you look at me” following potentially disastrous instincts, you tipped his chin to meet his eye, “It’s all those sudden switches when you seem so cold and calculating and yet so separated from the real you” running out of breath, you could only stare at Neil.

The widened eyes and parted lips told you exactly how shocked he was. You did feel bad for bringing Kat into it. The argument was too strong to let it go. And it worked if his silent panic was anything to go by. He was desperately searching for words, unable to tear his eyes away from yours as though what you said was a binding charm.

“Why do you think you know the real me?” finally, Neil settled upon the question.

One last attempt at making you forgo this madness. Only there was nothing convincing in his delivery. Eyes hazed, showing you fear and uncertainty. A blood droplet on the lower lip where he tore through the skin. Ignoring the most innate of desires to wipe it off, you cupped his cheek. Neil gasped, frozen in the spot. Could it be working? Sliding your hand down, you interlocked your fingers with his. Everything felt surreal. As if you were not a part of the scene. But you had to persist. To finish what you started.

“Because you once told me that you’ve never lied to me. That I’m very important. Your everything, even” your voice broke again on the last sentence as you tightened your hold over Neil’s hand, “And I understand that you could have changed your mind, but…” you hesitated, feeling him shudder.

Oh my god. Your heart broke for the umpteenth time as the fact dawned on you. Neil was shivering slightly as though he was cold. But there was no draft. Nothing to cause it apart from your presence, words, and the physical touch. A choked sob built up in your throat.

“…why are you trembling when all I’m doing is holding your hand? Am I that revolting?” the questions were interrupted by a sniff you could not hold back any longer; there was time for honesty, “The last few days have been awful, making me want to stupid things just to feel something different than heartbreak. I’m not saying that to get your pity, but if I got it all so wrong then tell me now. Because I’m not sure I can survive much longer like this” after finishing the speech, the tears trailed down your cheeks uninvited.

It was all there for him. Nothing to add. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears. For a second, you felt suspended in time, unable to do anything but stare at Neil, who seemed utterly speechless. And then his face fell. Eyes fell shut as he let out a heart-shattering whimper. Tears started falling down his face as you tried to brush them away. You have not seen him that broken since the aftermath of TP’s death. He tugged his hand out of your hold to cover his face, turning away. Christ… The searing pain was back, this time making your heart bleed for Neil. You did not know what to do, powerless and paralyzed with a multitude of thoughts and feelings. After a minute which felt like an eternity, Neil faced you again with red-rimmed eyes and tragedy in his gaze. That was the needed wake-up. Stepping back into action, you placed your hand on his chest. Just over the beating heart. A gentle encouragement.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that it’s over because I still…” the breathless words tinged with panic and struggle as he fought for every gust of air, “I can’t keep on…” another sob, shaking his whole body “You’re…” a sharp intake followed by instant defeat.

Immeasurable anguish in Neil’s eyes was another reason to find the strength you did not know you had. Maybe it was worth it.

“What? I’m here with you and willing to listen. To do anything but please just make me understand” holding back more tears, you made sure he saw the determination painted on your face.

Slowly you were coming to terms with the reality. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked.

“I don’t know how to…” Neil trailed off, looking for answers all over the floor and ceiling, “I’m tired of having to pretend when you’re all I…” a moment of hesitation as his eyes widened.

He did not intend to say that much. You’re all I… what? Before you could find ways of pressing on, he turned away again and sat down on the bed. A frown etched deep into his forehead. Eyebrows furrowed. Eyes glistening with unshed tears. This was bad. Awkwardly, you shifted from one foot to another. Words were escaping you both.

“Then don’t. I won’t bite” your useless quip was received with an ill-disguised dry chuckle, “Call it naïve, but I don’t think it’s anything we can’t fix if we…” shit.

You knew what was there on the tip of your tongue. It was too early. Fuck knows if he even… But he had to. There was no other force in the universe that could cause this much pain.

“If what?” Neil caught your mistake with strange emotion in his eyes.

As though he wanted you to spell it out. You could not give in. Some words had the potential to destroy, and it was too fragile. A freshly opened wound you still had to mend somehow.

“Don’t make me say it again” a whisper to make him understand your actions.

After a beat, Neil nodded. He seemed exhausted, slouching and staring at the floor unseeingly. That feeling of helplessness threatened to come back with force as you were running out of ideas to make it work. To get him back somehow. Then his voice broke the tense silence:

“Christ…” a long exhale before he looked at you again, “I don’t even know where to begin, but…” resignation passed through his face.

You felt a strange spark of hope flicker in the depths of your heart. It did not look like rejection. It did not look like anything you have ever experienced, and yet it made so much sense. Because after everything you have been through, there was no way this could be easy. Kindling that building fire, you cautiously took a step forward, maintaining the eye contact:

“Yes?” the most neutral of tones, holding the emotions at bay.

Everything not to scare him off. You made it so close. You could give up now. A hint of a sad smile upon Neil’s lips was encouraging…

“Come closer. I want to…” he reached out a hand you gladly took, letting him pull you nearer.

It did not matter what he wanted. Only that you could give it to him. Anything. Everything. Upon the sudden surge of courage, you covered the remaining inches of space and straddled his lap in one smooth movement. Another gasp as Neil glanced at you with obvious amazement. Then, as though he worried that even this was too much, he looked down at where his hands tentatively settled on your hips. This position was familiar. And yet, you felt different, unable to make sense of the myriad of emotions and thoughts occupying your mind. All that mattered was Neil. His hesitant but intimate hold. The hair falling into his eyes. Shallow breaths escaping through the parted lips.

“It’s alright, look at me,” gently you lifted his chin so that you could meet his gaze.

Blue eyes full of longing. For you. Exhaling sharply, you knew well enough what to do. You wound your hands around his waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. That too felt natural. After a second, Neil relaxed, melting into your hug as if that was exactly what was missing. At that moment, with head resting in the crook of his neck, at last feeling as though there was a point in all this, your eyes welled up. No matter the suffering, this had to be it. Your everything. Neil breathed you in, warm puffs of air causing shivers all over your body. There was no point in pretending.

“Please come back to me,” you whispered against his skin, letting tears trail onto his shirt.

Neil tightened his hold, hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. All it took was a kiss he pressed onto the exposed skin of your collarbone to make you tremble.

“I never left,” the hesitancy told you he did not believe it either.

“You did. But maybe… I’ll do anything to have you back” the urgency in your voice causing Neil to lean back.

He wiped the stray tears from your cheeks, taking an additional moment to caress your neck with tenderness. You could only lean into his touch, feeling as though whatever might happen has already been decided. There was no way you could let this go. Neil seemed to consider something quickly before he spoke:

“All those words… they fail me when I’m trying to explain what I was doing” his voice was raspy with the weight of emotions, “Or why. Because I’m scared of making it come true. It’s as if once I say it… it might…” he paused, searching for words in your eyes.

“Become real?” you offered, running your fingers through his unruly hair.

You were right. It was all an act. The elation was restrained by worry and love. It didn’t matter.

“Yeah…” Neil swallowed hard, “And then there’s all this mess in my head… The thoughts that just won’t shut up. I’m so fucking tired of… of-” the familiarity of his words causing another flash of pain within your heart “I can’t ask you to-” he cut himself off as though the idea was unspeakable.

You caught a sight of something darker within his gaze. They always said that actions speak louder than words…

“Neil, I said I’ll do anything. I mean it. What do you need?” you met his panicked eyes with resilience.

It took him a longer minute to stop staring at you. To wake up. And then, as simple as it can be:

“You. I need you,” touching his forehead to yours his breath ghosted your lips, “But after everything I did, I wouldn’t expect you to want me… like that” the depth of remorse was heart-breaking.

You already knew what the answer would be. Nothing else mattered. Regrets, worries, and fears had to be abandoned for the sake of this.

“The trouble with the heart is that it doesn’t care what you’ve done. Only that this is you,” smiling lightly, you cupped his cheek, “Just… kiss me. Like you mean it. Like you could love me. And then we’ll see if we can make it work,” unsure where the words came from, you faltered.

But before any vicious doubts could step in, Neil closed the gap. His lips slowly glided over yours, reminding you what it felt like. It did not take much persuading for you to open your mouth, deepening the kiss. It felt like coming home after a long time away. Like that first step over the threshold when one is unsure what they will find. Only to realise that everything is in the right place. That they should have never left. You tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him even closer. He groaned upon the sensation, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. A sigh escaped your throat as Neil’s hands ventured underneath the sweater. For the first time in a while, everything made sense. You tugged at his shirt just for the sake of it as a means of showing him how wrong he was. You wanted him more than before if that was possible. The kiss consuming you both with its intensity and force. Your tongues participating in their dance, brushing against each other, increasing the intimacy of the moment. It finally felt right. Slow, unhurried, but desperate. Unforgettable.

You did not even know when it ended. One moment you were willing to give up breath if only to make it last longer. The next Neil had you pinned to the bed, breathless and shocked. When you met his gaze, the depth of expression told you what it meant. Finally.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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seriouslycromulent · 3 years

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I've been holding on to this article all week, and I'm glad I finally made the time to read it. It's very enlightening, and speaks to the importance of how "Representation Matters" can be a phrase so easily co-opted by the majority (as per usual), then twisted to serve the status quo.

It's really sad because the cast clearly deserved better. I adored the show, and was happy to name it as one of my favorite binge-watch marathons of the quarantine. I hope to see everyone (especially the Dad and Kimchee) in future projects. But all in all, the final season along with this news feels even more bittersweet.

Here is the article behind the link. The bolded sections are my own emphasis.

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‘Kim’s Convenience’ stars decry ‘overtly racist’ storylines, lack of representation

JUNE 7, 2021 2:29 PM PT By CHRISTI CARRASSTAFF WRITER

“Kim’s Convenience” has officially closed up shop, and its stars are opening up about their frustrations with the show’s approach to Korean Canadian representation behind and in front of the camera.

After the hit CBC sitcom debuted its fifth and final season last week on Netflix, actors Simu Liu and Jean Yoon voiced their concerns regarding the series’ “overwhelmingly white” production team, “horsepoop” pay and “overtly racist” storylines, among other alleged grievances.

Based on actor and playwright Ins Choi’s stage production of the same name, “Kim’s Convenience” premiered in 2016 and centered on a Korean Canadian family operating a convenience store in Toronto. In the show, Liu — star of Marvel’s highly anticipated “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings” — portrayed Yoon’s on-screen son, Jung.

“I’ve heard a lot of speculation surrounding myself — specifically, about how getting a Marvel role meant I was suddenly too ‘Hollywood’ for Canadian TV,” Liu remarked Thursday in a lengthy Facebook post reflecting on the end of the program.

“This could not be further from the truth. I love this show and everything it stood for. I saw firsthand how profoundly it impacted families and brought people together. It’s truly SO RARE for a show today to have such an impact on people, and I wanted very badly to make the schedules work.

After setting the record straight about his career trajectory, Liu expressed disappointment with the way that he and his character were treated as the series progressed.

“I WAS, however, growing increasingly frustrated with the way my character was being portrayed and, somewhat related, was also increasingly frustrated with the way I was being treated,” he said. “It was always my understanding that the lead actors were the stewards of character, and would grow to have more creative insight as the show went on.

“This was not the case on our show, which was doubly confusing because our producers were overwhelmingly white and we were a cast of Asian Canadians who had a plethora of lived experiences to draw from and offer to writers. ... there was deliberately not a lot of leeway given to us.”

Liu also sounded off on “Strays,” the forthcoming spinoff series spotlighting Jung’s work supervisor, Shannon, played by Nicole Power. The offshoot is set to premiere in September on the CBC.

“I love and am proud of Nicole, and I want the show to succeed for her... but I remain resentful of all of the circumstances that led to the one non-Asian character getting her own show,” Liu wrote. “And not that they would ever ask, but I will adamantly refuse to reprise my role in any capacity.”

In addition to creative differences, Liu accused the CBC of purposefully underpaying him and his castmates in comparison to other popular shows such as “Schitt’s Creek,” which boasted “brand-name talent” but received lower ratings than “Kim’s Convenience,” according to Liu.

“For how successful the show actually became, we were paid an absolute horsepoop rate,” he wrote. “The whole process has really opened my eyes to the relationship between those with power and those without. In the beginning, we were no-name actors who had ZERO leverage. So of course we were going to take anything we could. ...

“Basically we were locked in for the foreseeable future at a super-low rate ... But we also never banded together and demanded more — probably because we were told to be grateful to even be there, and because we were so scared to rock the boat. Maybe also because we were too busy infighting to understand that we were deliberately being pitted against each other. Meanwhile, we had to become the de facto mouthpieces for the show (our showrunners were EPICALLY reclusive), working tirelessly to promote it while never truly feeling like we had a seat at its table.”

Shortly after Liu shared his thoughts on social media, a television critic for Canada’s Globe and Mail dismissed his comments as “unfair” and “mean-spirited,” prompting Yoon to defend her costar on Twitter.

While both Liu and Yoon credited Korean Canadian artist Choi with introducing the Kim family to mainstream audiences, they also alleged that his influence over the series was eclipsed by a dearth of Korean representation behind the scenes.

“Your attack on my cast mate @SimuLiu, in the defense of my fellow Korean artist Ins Choi is neither helpful nor merited,” Yoon replied to the Globe and Mail’s rebuke of Liu’s statements. “Mr. Choi wrote the play, I was in [it]. He created the TV show, but his co-creator Mr. Kevin White was the showrunner, and clearly set the parameters.

“This is a FACT that was concealed from us as a cast. It was evident from Mr. Choi’s diminished presence on set, or in response to script questions. Between S4 and S5, this FACT became a crisis, and in S5 we were told Mr. Choi was resuming control of the show.”

The scene partners also addressed the alleged absence of diversity on the “Kim’s Convenience” writing team, which “lacked both East Asian and female representation,” as well as “a pipeline to introduce diverse talents,” according to Liu.

“Aside from Ins, there were no other Korean voices in the room,” Liu wrote. “And personally I do not think he did enough to be a champion for those voices (including ours). When he left (without so much as a goodbye note to the cast), he left no protege, no padawan learner, no Korean talent that could have replaced him.”

“As an Asian Canadian woman, a Korean-Canadian woman w more experience and knowledge of the world of my characters, the lack of Asian female, especially Korean writers in the writers room of Kims made my life VERY DIFFICULT & the experience of working on the show painful,” Yoon tweeted.

Despite trying “so hard” to make himself available as a creative resource, Liu said efforts made by him and others to improve the show from the inside were dismissed. Without adequate input from talent of Korean descent, Yoon added that the show’s authenticity suffered.

“The cast received drafts of all S5 scripts in advance of shooting BECAUSE of Covid, at which time we discovered storylines that were OVERTLY RACIST, and so extremely culturally inaccurate that the cast came together and expressed concerns collectively,” Yoon tweeted.

“My prior experience had taught me that if I just put myself out there enough, people would be naturally inclined to help,” Liu wrote. “And boy was I wrong here. I wasn’t the only one who tried. Many of us in the cast were trained screenwriters with thoughts and ideas that only grew more seasoned with time. But those doors were never opened to us in any meaningful way.”

Representatives for Choi and the CBC did not immediately respond Monday to The Times’ requests for comment.

#kim's convenience #simu liu #jean yoon #cbc #asian representation #canadian television #representation matters #anti-asian racism

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

Text

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 16 - Year 2: December

(ao3 links)

Sidious always enjoyed maintaining collections.

He always considered himself a keen eye for artwork- taking special care to decorate and surround his space with intricate and often overlooked pieces that a meager outsider would deem worthless. As usual, their ignorance served to his benefit, allowing him to broaden a priceless treasure trove just beneath their noses. In a sense, it was most enjoyable that way- to accrue artwork and artifacts fundamental to preserving and cultivating the future of the Sith and for them to be none the wiser.

Little did they understand that the best costumes were woven with truth.

So, they could have their foolish little jokes about the junk he chose to decorate his environment with. They would not be laughing so merrily when the abstract paintings of enemy bloodshed cease to be so foreign to them. The carefully hidden devices that could provide centuries of torment would be useful one day.

As well as contingency plans that they might never know, because Sidious was nothing if not pragmatic.

He ran a long finger along a small wooden prism that sat upon his mantle, lips twitching upwards when it glowed red at his touch. He rolled it around his hand, practically shaking at the pure heat that emanated through him. Like Sidious, its walls remained intact and its passion while brimming at the surface, secured by purpose.

He took a deep breath and returned it to its place beside a cube that he didn’t need to touch to know it would not respond to him with such fervor, let alone at all. To him alone, it had no meaning.

But he would not be alone forever and he never did anything without meaning.

Sidious walked to his desk, taking a seat behind it as he took in his collection of pictures, each from a different era with different allies. Tyranus, of course, stood beside him in one of them, though surrounded by other faculty to maintain plausible deniability. Still, he couldn’t help but grimace at his supposed partner. It was no secret to him that Tyranus was taking his own measures. He would be dealt with should his insolence become too much of a problem for Sidious.

His yellow eyes drifted yet again to a picture only he knew to be cropped, one where there was once a Dathmorian smiling ferociously. He had half a mind to return it to its natural form, but as it were, there was no room on his desk for failure.

Besides, as he pulled out a fresh frame, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of giddiness overtake him.

He would need the space for the newest piece of his collection.

***

“I was under the impression that we were forbidding any holiday soirees this year.” Qui-Gon frowned and looked to his fellow Head of Houses for support, knowing he would find no such assistance from Palpatine in this particular situation.

“It’s hardly even that.” Palpatine said kindly, “It’s an academic dinner! And a necessary one, if I must say so myself.”

“And I have a feeling you will.” Qui-Gon muttered, earning him a warning look from Yoda, who always tried to remain neutral on such matters. “Regardless of intent, do you not see the hypocrisy of staging any sort of gathered event on school grounds when everything else has been banned?”

Including Qui-Gon’s own party, which this was only partially about.

“I’d say there’s a stark difference between a quiet dinner for 12-14 people and what has essentially become a rave over the years.” Palpatine countered with the barest traces of a smile, “And no offense to your own event, Professor Jinn, but do you not recall what happened last year at your party?”

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth, but held his tongue as the other professors eyed him carefully. He didn’t need to garner a reputation for throwing a tantrum every time something didn’t go his way, especially when it was being framed that he merely wanted to have his own holiday party.

“I am not saying mine or any other such parties should occur this year on property,” He said, “But if we are battening down the hatches, I don’t see why your academic dinner is exempt from the rules.”

“It’s essentially a networking event, Professor Jinn,” Palpatine twiddled his long fingers, “It would seem incredibly unfair to deprive Hogwarts’ best from learning how to navigate their futures.”

“Not a single person in this room received any such favoritism and I would say we turned out just fine,” Qui-Gon said, because really, at the core this was what it was all about. Every year, Palpatine hosted a private dinner for who he felt were the most prestigious and skilled witches and wizards of their year. This did not necessarily mean their grades or academic place guaranteed them a spot. It all depended on who Palpatine saw potential in.

“If I could possibly invite the whole student body, you know that I would.” The older man said with sympathetic gray eyes.

“Understand, I do.” Yoda nodded sagely, “Danger or not, continue school must, but safety precautions, there must be.”

“We’ll ensure it’s monitored.” Windu said with a curt nod, but whether it was meant for Qui-Gon or Palpatine was up for debate, “10 people tops, that includes plus one’s, and it will need to be over by curfew.”

“Ah yes, because Maul won’t show up until 10 pm.” Qui-Gon snorted, which earned him a glare from Windu this time. Shaak Ti, to her credit, seemed to be withholding a quiet laugh of her own.

“And all of us will monitor the dinner.” She said calmly, “We can’t take any chances by leaving students vulnerable.”

Qui-Gon eased a bit at that, though he still bristled at the way Palpatine’s smile took full form and then shrugged at him as though he were helpless to the decision. He’d never had any contempt for the older man, but he never appreciated smugness in any form.

“I’ll have to shorten my list a tad, but that can be done.” He nodded slowly.

As they were dismissed, Qui-Gon wasn’t surprised when Yoda asked him to stay back. After the door shut behind Palpatine and he was left alone with the little green Headmaster, he couldn’t help but feel like a student ready to receive detention.

“Feel your frustration, I do.” He said, “Find anything, have you?”

“No necklace.” Qui-Gon only stuttered a little bit, surprised that he wasn’t being chastised, “Though it no doubt came from Dooku’s office. And I’d know it if I saw it.”

“Scoured over everything in there, the aurors have.” Yoda said grimly, “Missing, a necklace was.”

“That’s what Anakin said too.” Qui-Gon revealed and off the curious look Yoda was giving him, he sighed, “I promised him immunity from punishment should he be honest about anything he knew.”

“Hm,” Yoda tapped his fingers on his desk, “Blame him for curiosity, I do not. Many close calls last year, he had.”

“That seems to be a bit of an understatement, Headmaster.” Qui-Gon said and stroked his beard.

“Twice as vulnerable, the boy is.” Yoda said, “After him, Maul is.”

He did know this. The entire school did after the display Maul’s “delivery” made. Aurors through the Ministry were able to detect that not only did the blade belong to Maul, but that the markings on the dagger were strangely reminiscent of an ancient diatribe. Qui-Gon knew they were dancing around calling it like it was: a Sith artifact.

“For what reason?” Qui-Gon scowled, “Maul cares not for prophecy or rules. Anakin is a twelve year old boy and hardly a challenge for him.”

“Tasked with finding that out, I am leaving you.” Yoda pushed his chair out from beneath his desk and stood. When he did, only the very top of his head was visible from where Qui-Gon stood. Using his cane, he hobbled around to stand in front of Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, “And why not Windu?”

He didn’t mean to sound like he didn’t accept the task. Quite the opposite, of course. He would have likely found himself involved anyway as it was in his nature. That being said, he certainly didn’t have the professional investigative experience that Mace had.

“Trust you, the boy does.” Yoda said matter-of-factly, “Because Shmi trusted you, the reason he goes here is.”

Qui-Gon was sure that was meant to be empowering motivation, but instead, his mind was taken back to the dark dreams Shmi told him of last winter holiday and how scarily they matched the ones Anakin had mentioned, not to mention the recurrence of snakes. He thought about how desperately Shmi did not want her son to be involved with the wizarding world and why now that seemed to not be so ridiculous on paper.

Still, he knew Anakin’s and the rest of the community’s best hope was to continue his training.

“That is true,” Qui-Gon said with a heavy sigh, “But Headmaster, we need to be able to ensure the boy’s safety for that trust to persist.”

“Agree, I do.” Yoda said, “Maul cannot get in, as long as here, I am.”

It was true. While small in stature and old in age, Headmaster Yoda was the most formidable foe to a loose cannon like Maul, who surely did not have enough hubris to believe he would be capable of taking down the ancient Headmaster. He was once a student at Hogwarts, after all, and had to know of the Headmaster’s abilities.

However, there was a far off look in Yoda’s eyes that did not bestow much confidence in Qui-Gon. There was something he wasn’t saying. Or perhaps, it was meant to be assumed.

“And you’re not going anywhere, are you?” He asked slowly.

His long ears tilted downwards and he sighed heavily, “On my own accord, I will not.”

Then, it dawned on Qui-Gon, “The Ministry?”

“A strong case of my failures, many lawyers are making.” He said, “Feel that prepared, I am not, to defend the school.”

“That’s preposterous, Headmaster!” Qui-Gon growled, “If anything, we’re sitting ducks without you!”

Yoda’s disposition steeled, “No! Strength, there are in numbers. Make this school, I do not. Protect it, you and the others will if you must.”

While there was nothing presently happening and no final words were said, Qui-Gon felt like his heart was racing beneath his chest. Did no one see what was transpiring all around them?

“There must be one of Dooku’s plants in the Ministry.” He said, “The Sith are rising and gathering numbers to try and weaken us.”

Yoda fiddled with the hilt of the sword that always stuck out of the large vase near his desk, twiddling it between his little fingers. It was designed as though meant to be wielded by Yoda, himself, though Qui-Gon never really came to such a realization until now.

“Many forms, evil takes,” He confirmed, “Are Sith, not all of them are. In the deliberately blind, bigoted, and silent, it lies. Fester, it will. Be vigilant, we must.”

***

“And remember class, your project on the fundamental purposes of gillyweed is due next Monday.” Palpatine smiled at the class, “I look forward to seeing what sort of creative functionalities you all come up with.”

Anakin hadn’t noticed that class dismissed and it seemed Rex wasn’t bothered much to let him know, leaving him staring into empty space as students filtered out of the room. He only blinked back into reality when his professor walked up and gently knocked on the desk in front of him, as though it were a door he was requesting admission through.

He flicked his head up, mind scrambling for an excuse to land on for being so lost in space, but found he had trouble lying to the older man.

“Oh, sorry, Professor!” He slid from his chair and stood up, “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“How are you doing, Anakin?” Palpatine placed a hand on his shoulder and appeared to be studying him. “Really doing; not just what you might tell your other professors.”

“Well, I’m sure you heard of the little note Maul sent me.” He said with a shrug, “They confirmed that the blood on it was that Adi Gallia that he murdered at the prison.”

It was impressive that he’d managed to say that without gagging as he had the many times his thoughts reverted back to the moment. He had to blink a few times to shake away the images his brain had conjured up in his sleep. He’d heard the reports on how Maul picked off each of the guards on duty that night and it hadn’t been pleasant.

“He’s a sick individual, Anakin. And it’s just awful how he treated those poor guards.” Palpatine said, “But rest assured, no harm can befall you so long as Headmaster Yoda is on the premises.”

Anakin perked up, “Really?”

“But of course!” He said and twisted his own lips into a smile, “I’m not sure where this school would be without him, but I can assure you, he is a force that Maul would not dare to cross.”

Anakin relaxed at that, “I suppose I should be learning from him then. You know, if I’m to be a hero one day.”

“In my opinion, Anakin,” Palpatine poked his chest, “You are already a hero. And it is for that reason amongst countless others that I am formally inviting you to my annual academic banquet.”

“That’s awesome!” Anakin scratched the back of his neck, “Only, uh… What is it?”

He chuckled, “Only an exclusive dinner party hosted by yours truly. It’s reserved for only the witches and wizards, usually older, that I deem exemplary amongst their peers. It’s a way to recognize their hard work.”

“And you think I’m worthy of that?” Anakin asked.

Palpatine chuckled, “I would be a fool not to invite such a brilliant and promising young lad such as yourself. You may be significantly younger than the rest of the attendees, but I assure you that your skills match their own.”

Pride swelled through Anakin so suddenly that he found it quite difficult not to appear shocked. Still, he figured no one else but Palpatine was around, so it was likely acceptable this time. Besides, his mother always taught him not to expect gifts or invitations from anyone, even if it seemed deserved.

“Wow, this is an honor, sir.” He said, “Thank you.”

“No need for thanking me.” He insisted, “It is my pleasure to host! Now, it is usually a more formal event, so be sure you and your guest are dressed appropriately. You ought to look the part of the chosen one.”

“My guest?” He asked.

“Ah yes, invite whoever you like, but remember, they are to represent you!” He wagged a finger at him, “Not everyone is cut from the same cloth, shame as that might be. So choose carefully!”

Despite having never heard of such an event, he knew this would be a meaningful night and wanted so terribly for Palpatine to be right. Clearly, the seasoned professor saw something in Anakin if he already belonged amongst the most elite brilliant wizards at a banquet in their honor. He did not want to mess this up.

***

“Looking good up there,” Miraj Scintel, a Slytherin fourth year who was almost alarmingly feline in nature and physicality, purred from a position on the bleachers. Anakin hadn’t even noticed her thanks to the howling wind and the freezing rain that decided to bestow itself upon them for practice.

“Oh, hey!” He hoped he was smiling, but his face was feeling pretty numb from the cold. He forgot his scarf again and was going to be annoyed if he caught a cold. His mum certainly wouldn’t let him hear the end of that, or worse: Obi-Wan wouldn’t let him hear the end of that.

“I always knew you were gifted, Skywalker,” She smiled, bearing sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into her prey. Anakin knew that wasn’t him, due to his own powers that couldn’t be stopped, so he didn’t fear her. He just hovered nearby on his broom. He preferred being off the ground anyway.

“Thanks! Cody says we stand a good chance of a comeback.”

“As a Slytherin, I’m pretty sure commenting on that would be treasonous.” She said smoothly.

He wondered if the smooth beige fur that lined her skin protected her from the cold in the winter or worse, if it made summers brutal. He knew it was rude to ask, but he’d have to ask Obi-Wan later. He certainly wasn’t going to waste time looking it up in a big book.

“You guys were lucky we weren’t in the right headspace.” Anakin challenged.

“I’m sure,” She laughed, “I don’t play so… I don’t have much stakes in the game aside from knowing true power and talent when I see it.”

“Really?”

“Indeed,” She nodded slowly, keeping her eyes fixated on his, “And my father has an in with the Bulgarian professional team.”

Anakin didn’t even know where Bulgar was located, but it sounded impressive. Not wanting to sound dumb, he nodded and made sure to give her the kind of awe that she obviously sought out with such a reveal.

“Maybe I could tell him about you.” She shrugged, “If you keep doing such amazing things.”

“I don’t know if you’ll need to,” He smirked, “I am the chosen one.”

“That you are,” She raised an eyebrow at him, “In more ways than one. I suppose the true question, is who are you going to choose?”

“For what?” Anakin frowned.

“To take to the moon with you, Anakin.” She said as though it were obvious, “That broom looks like it's built for two at maximum capacity.”

He looked behind him and thought about that. He knew it was a metaphor, but he really only ever pictured Padmé riding on the back of his broom. He’d never admit that out loud, because it sounded incredibly corny and also impossible for his present image.

“Oh, I’m not planning on falling in love or anything like that, sorry.” He said honestly. He didn’t want Miraj to get the wrong idea.

“Who said anything about love?” She scoffed. “Love is for the weak. No, what you need is a co-conspirator.”

***

Cody massaged his temples as he tried to will himself the strength to focus on the textbook in front of him. For what had to be the millionth time, he pondered why there weren’t any memory spells that could assist in studying. Even magic had its limitations, sure, but there were spells to erase one’s memory. Why not the opposite?

With a dejected sigh, he slammed his head down to the pages.

“I know I say do whatever works, but I’m not sure that’s an effective study method.” Satine commented as she sat down next to him. He didn’t have to look up to know that Kenobi slid in the seat across from her and likely had a smirk that matched her own.

“You could shove this book straight between my ears and I still wouldn’t get it.” Cody groaned.

One of them patted him on the shoulder- presumably Kenobi by the firmness of it, while the other poked him.

“Once again, I think you’re just being too hard on yourself,” Kenobi said, “Over-thinking has never served you well.”

“Yeah you’ve always thrived on instinct.” Satine said with a nudge, “It’s like remembering Quidditch plays.”

“This is nothing like Quidditch.” Cody tilted his head up enough to lean on his hands, “If it were, I’d be attending Palpatine’s precious pet banquet with the lot of you.”

“Not to worry, Cody, I’m also not attending.” Satine said as she flipped open her own book rather indignantly.

“And just what are you protesting this time?” Kenobi asked.

Had Cody not been too busy commiserating, he would have likely asked the same question, but he was glad he didn’t, because it was immediately apparent that it was the wrong question.

“First of all, I’m not sure I appreciate the underlying exasperation in your tone.” She said, “Just because I choose to stand against social injustice does not make me some annoying zealot. Secondly, I am not protesting anything, because I wasn’t invited.”

Cody’s head shot up completely this time in a mixture of shock and affront. Kenobi seemed just as surprised too, because he didn’t even offer a counter-argument to Satine’s earlier point. They shared a look of disbelief before turning to her for an explanation that never came.

After a moment of likely feeling their gazes burning through her skull, she finally looked up, perturbed that she was interrupted from whatever nonsense she’d gotten herself into reading.

“What?”

“That’s impossible!” Cody complained, “Surely, there’s some sort of mistake.”

“Seriously, you’re top of our class.” Kenobi said, before finishing, “Besides me.”

She rolled her eyes, “Believe it or not, Ben, Palpatine doesn’t exactly choose based on academic placement, alone. He’s chosen quite a few bimbos in the past, actually. Sure, academia helps, but you need status in order to catch his gaze. And conveniently enough, he never invites muggle borns.”

“Are you sure about that?” Cody asked, “He’s never struck me as the sort to think so… What’s the term?”

“Single-mindedly? Aristocratically? Bigoted? Subservient to an archaic belief of blood superiority? I could go on if you need more.” Satine listed them off with such ease that Cody realized she must have thought about them more often than either he or Kenobi could fathom. Such a realization both saddened and surprised him, and even more so when he realized he shouldn’t be all that surprised in the first place.

“That’s not right.” Kenobi pinched his chin thoughtfully, “Perhaps, he was limited in spaces.”

“Well, he had no problem inviting your mentee.” She said pointedly, “Who is twelve years old, need I remind you.”

“Anakin made the cut?” His eyes widened. “Usually, only sixth and seventh years are invited.”

“Did you even pay attention to the list? Or did you stop when you saw your name at the top?” She asked. “Of course he did. He’s the chosen one! While a half-blood raised in the muggle world, his prophetic background immediately moves him to the A-list.”

“Palpatine’s pals.” Cody whistled, “An elite breed for a young kid.”

Kenobi seemed to consider that for a long moment and by the end of his line of thoughts, it was unclear what his opinion on that matter ended up being. Like many times, he transitioned topics and kept his face neutral. If he wasn’t already set on being an auror, Cody would have suggested he become an actor.

“Well, it makes no difference in the end, I suppose.” He said, “I assumed you would be going with me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Satine asked.

Cody couldn’t believe it. He looked back and forth between the two of them in amusement. Was this how it was going to happen? It was a lot less theatrical than he’d expected, seeing as the two of them seemed to always be quarreling when they weren’t “secretly” fawning over the other. He expected it to go a lot of ways, but never with Kenobi so casually putting it out on the table.

“We get plus one’s.” He shrugged, “Perhaps, that’s why Palpatine excluded you from the list. He figured I would automatically bring you because of our relationship.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “Our relationship?”

“We’re friends.” He said slowly, as though he might have been reminding himself of that fact too.

Not the correct thing to say.

Satine clenched her jaw, “Yes, well, how was I to even know this little arrangement would be happening if you were never intending on mentioning it?”

“I’m mentioning it now.” Kenobi said. “It’s not like it’s a date or anything.”

Cody wondered how someone so smart could say the wrong thing so often.

“Yes, that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” Satine said.

Kenobi seemed utterly dumbfounded, “Did you want it to be a-”

“-Why would I want that?” She cut him off immediately and Cody found himself bobbing his head back and forth between them. Sometimes, it felt like he was watching an exciting ping pong match.

“I don’t know.” Kenobi said, though he had the decency to look a bit offended by her immediate dismissal, “It’s hardly anything more than a networking event. You would likely hate the whole experience, anyway.”

“You are really selling this evening to me.” She frowned.

“You don’t have to come if you do not wish,” Kenobi said, though Cody could see his best friend stiffen, “It was just an offer.”

“And what an offer it is!” She flared, placing both hands on the table as though prepared to launch herself to her feet for a dramatic exit, “An offhand comment suggesting I essentially be your tag-a-along to an event that I was deliberately overlooked for. Sign me up! I should be so lucky to be your casual pick. You truly know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Satine-” He didn’t get very far, of course. When she was on a roll, she was on a roll.

“What were you going to do the night of the party if I had already found a date?” She steamrolled, now half-standing as she leaned forward towards him, “Or was that never an actual possibility in that head of yours? Answer wisely.”

Kenobi stammered, though Cody noticed he was obviously bothered by the implication, “Did you have someone you’d rather go with than your best friend?”

“Perhaps, I did!” She thundered.

Kenobi reverberated for a moment as though he suffered terrible whiplash before finally saying, “Well, it’s not a date anyway so-”

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, which works out quite nicely for me,” She said as she fully stood, “Seeing as it’s not a date and I’m a friend, which apparently means I’m unworthy of any notice, formal invitation, or courtesy. So, as a friend, I’ll feel no guilt in standing you up.”

“Well- fine!” Kenobi said back, “I’ll find someone else to go! Someone less mad!”

“Good luck with that!” She grinned sardonically as she turned to take her leave, “Because anyone who agrees to go with your passive arrogance would have to be bloody insane.”

Kenobi opened his mouth and shut it again, annoyed that she’d managed to get the last word in before she was fully gone- a tactic both have used in the past. Everyone in the library, including Jocasta Nu, was shooting unsure looks towards their table. He didn’t seem to notice from where he stewed, keeping his eyes trained on where she left.

“So, who are you going to ask?” Cody asked.

Kenobi groaned and flopped his head down towards his textbook with a thud.

“You wouldn’t happen to be interested in a free dinner, would you?” His voice was muffled from the book, but Cody always understood the language of food.

Despite how it might not resonate well with Satine, Cody couldn’t not agree to those terms. Unlike her, he would rather it not be a date.

***

“Rex, guess what?” Anakin came barreling into the Gryffindor common room with a burst of excitement that Rex had grown used to over the year and half of knowing his friend. Still, they hadn’t been hanging out nearly as much as they used to, so he found himself quite surprised to be the recipient of such grand news.

“What?” He asked, closing his History of Magic textbook for the night. He knew if Anakin got enthusiastic enough, that he would not be returning to his homework for tonight.

“I got invited to Palpatine’s Academic Bash!” He pressed his hands into the armrest of the couch, using it for stability as he bounced up and down.

“His… What?” Rex frowned. He distinctly recalled that unofficial school holiday events were banned per Headmaster Yoda’s call for safety. It was not lost on Rex that such safety measures were likely designed with Anakin in mind, specifically.

“It’s this end of the term banquet that he has with his most esteemed students where we all get dressed up and eat a bunch of fancy foods. It’s basically a big networking event where Palpatine helps set the older students up with connections to make them successful beyond Hogwarts.”

“And why are you invited, then?” Rex asked, much to Anakin’s incredulousness.

“Hello?” He gestured to himself, “Chosen One? Have you forgotten?”

“How could I? You scarcely let me do so.” He deadpanned, “I still don’t get why you would even want to go to that sort of thing. Sounds much more up Obi-Wan’s alley.”

“Well, he’s invited too, of course.” Anakin waved a hand, “It’s usually exclusive to sixth years and seventh years.”

All of the students that were amongst Palpatine’s “pals” as they were often referred to by outsiders, were all exceptionally gifted and intelligent witches and wizards. He didn’t see how Rex could be so confused by Anakin’s being lumped in with them. Sure, he was younger, but in terms of power and potential, he was right there.

“Still sounds stuffy.” Rex shrugged.

“Well,” Anakin couldn’t help but deflate a bit, annoyed that Rex wasn’t immediately leaping to his level of excitement, “Since it’s an academic event, the school is allowing it, so it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

“I suppose.” Rex said.

“I thought about asking Padmé to go with me, but I don’t want her to get the wrong impression,” Anakin said, “Can’t have her falling in love with me. That would make things far too complicated.”

“I’m sure.” Rex snorted, “Well, if you need someone to endure the bureaucratic dribble with I guess-”

“-Miraj Scintel would probably want to go.” Anakin tapped his chin.

“What?”

“Miraj Scintel.” Anakin said simply, “You know, my friend from Slytherin house. 4th year Miraj? Super pretty, but not my type? You know, the popular girl who I’ve been sitting with at Dueling Club-”

“-I know who she is.” Rex spat, “Why are you taking her?”

Anakin sat on the armrest, “I dunno, we’re friends. I think she’d like it.”

“And what about me?” He asked.

Anakin frowned, “You just said you didn’t want to go.”

“You didn’t invite me! I thought you were just bragging.”

“When do I do that?”

“All of the time!” Rex said, “Were you even going to ask me anyway?”

Anakin paused and Rex launched up from where he’d been sitting on the couch.

“You weren’t, were you?” He accused.

“I never said that!” Anakin said, “I would just rather bring someone who wants to go is all. Plus, Miraj fits in a bit better with that crowd of people.”

“And I don’t?”

“Not really.” Anakin shrugged, “You always choose to hang back or walk away whenever I’m with my new friends.”

“Is that how you see it?” He laughed sardonically, “Boy are you full of it, you know that?”

“What are you on about?” Anakin crossed his arms.

“What am I on about? I haven’t been walking away from you! You haven’t invited me once to hang with you and your new friends. You keep flaunting this Chosen One title around like it’s such a great thing when in reality, it sounds like it’s only going to get really scary from here on out. I mean, my family has gone to Hogwarts for years and the professors have never seen it fit to have a club where students basically learn to fight.”

Anakin frowned, “I’m not flaunting anything around. I am the Chosen One. That’s what I am. And Chosen Ones are heroes, who don’t cower down from the future or when things get bad. Neither do Gryffindors in general, actually.”

“I’m not cowering down. I’m just trying to be realistic!” Rex barked back.

“I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like having all eyes depending on you to be brave, but that is the reality.” Anakin shrugged, “And a real friend would support me on that.”

“Are you kidding me?” Rex all but shouted, throwing his books aside, “Ever since this whole thing started, you’ve been ditching me like I’m Flobberworm fodder to you.”

“No, you have taken every opportunity to either avoid me or lash out any time anyone else treats me nice!”

“That’s because they’re only being nice to you because you’re the Chosen One!”

“That’s not true!” Anakin said and pointed a firm finger at his seething friend, “You’re just jealous that everyone likes me now.”

“But I liked you before any of that!” Rex shouted, “It didn’t matter to me if you were famous or if you were powerful. When no one else in this blasted school believed you, not even Obi-Wan, I did. I stood by your side and stuck up for you. You were the last person I’d ever think would fall for this stupid fame rap, but I guess I was wrong.”

Anakin’s mouth felt dry, but it didn’t stop his stupid words from taking form anyway- coming from a place of hurt so bleak that he didn’t realize it still existed there from his loneliness of last year,

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me being your charity case anymore. I’d rather have friends that are happier for me instead of sulking all the time anyway.” He said.

“Sure, have fun with Miraj at Palpatine’s stupid party! I’m sure she’ll just love puckering up to your arse every time you so much as breathe. See if she still likes you next time you fall flat on your face and don’t ask me to come pick you back up.”

“And good luck on the bench this year!” It felt mean even as he said it, but Anakin decided he wasn’t wanted here anymore as he stormed back down the steps towards the exit, trying not to look anyone else in the face as tears began to spring from his eyes. He ran into Cody on his way down, who tried to grab him by the wrist, but Anakin slipped from his potential grasp and descended the stairs anyway.

On his way out, he heard Cody ask, “What the bloody hell just happened?”

It seemed Anakin was out a friend. It was no matter, he told himself. He had plenty of other friends now.

He would just have to keep telling himself that.

***

Obi-Wan was surprised to find Anakin sitting by himself in the courtyard. It was far from a safe position for him to be in, given the price that was likely out on his head by Maul, but the boy was so sullen that he couldn’t find it in him to admonish him. He wasn’t crying, but didn’t look far from it.

“I don’t care if you give me detention, Obi-Wan.” Anakin said and pressed his forehead into his knees as he brought them closer to him, likely in an effort to keep himself warm. “Just leave me alone.”

Obi-Wan sighed through his nose and carefully pulled his robe off of him before draping it around Anakin, followed by giving him his scarf. There wasn’t going to be much of a Chosen One left if he froze to death in the December chill. He dusted the stone bench free of drifting snow and ice before taking a seat beside him.

“What happened?” He finally asked, breaking the silence that bounded them. The whirl of the wind whistled through and around the many towers and seemed to battle with itself in the heart of the courtyard.

Anakin had been having a great year from the looks of it, contrary to his previous year. He made new friends, grew a lot of confidence (perhaps, a bit too much), and was behaving better in class. Another psychopathic dark wizard was after him, yes, but he seemed to take it in stride in comparison to how he reacted to his fear of Windu before. This behavior seemed very out of the blue to Obi-Wan.

He sighed heavily, causing a wreath of frosty air to circulate around him, “Rex doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Now, that didn’t sound right at all. Rex had stuck with Anakin through the thickest of thick and didn’t seem keen on going anywhere. He’d been a loyal and true friend, one that Anakin was lucky to have. It simply did not add up.

Then, Obi-Wan counted back to the previous months, thinking about how Anakin hadn’t been seen with Rex nearly as much, how his mentee had grown popular with other and older students, or how Anakin seemed quite boastful as of late.

“Did he say why?”

“He’s upset I’m taking Miraj Scintel to Palpatine’s banquet.” He huffed, “Which is ridiculous, because he hates potions and was dogging the event in general until I told him I was inviting someone else.”

“Ah, I see.” Obi-Wan slumped against the wall a bit, but it was colder than anything he’d ever touched and he straightened his posture again, “I must admit, I’m not sure I’m the best candidate to be giving advice on this specific matter. I’m somewhat in a similar pickle.”

“You’re also bringing Miraj Scintel to Palpatine’s banquet?” Anakin wrinkled his nose, “She never struck me as your type.”

“She’s not!” Obi-Wan insisted, “I’m not taking her, but one of my friends is upset that I didn’t elect to ask them more formally.”

“Why didn’t you?” Anakin asked, loosening his grip on his legs and letting his feet touch the stone again.

Obi-Wan breathed out his own cloud of air, admiring for a moment how picturesque it looked in the reflective light from the torches that hung above them. He was grateful for them, of course, because they provided at least a little warmth to fight off the freezing December. He couldn’t explain it, but he always liked the smell of the cold- the freshness of it. He just never quite enjoyed feeling it.

He rubbed his hands along his arms in an effort to warm up, “I thought… It went without saying that we were to go together.”

Anakin frowned, “That’s awful dumb of you. How is someone supposed to know they’re invited if you never say anything?”

Obi-Wan snorted, always amused at the sheer lack of thought that went into Anakin’s words sometimes, “Yes, I know that now, thank you. It is for that reason that I am now bringing Cody to the banquet.”

“Cody?” Anakin squawked, “He’s not going to fit in at all!”

“That doesn’t matter,” Obi-Wan said, “It’s about who you want to bring, not about who you feel would make the best trophy to show off.”

Obi-Wan was quite glad that Satine wasn’t there to call him out on the sheer hypocrisy of that statement. Being a Kenobi and hosting many parties, meant that most of his life had been surrounded by various upscale wizards flashing their trophy husbands or wives or children.

“But why would I want to bring someone who’s been nothing but negative this entire term? It’s like he’s not even happy for me for being popular.”

“Popularity isn’t everything, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, rubbing his hands together now, “It’s better to have fewer great friends than more fairweather friends.”

“What’s a fairweather friend?” Anakin asked.

“The kind who only wants to be around you when you’re on top.” He explained, “So maybe, it’s not that you’ve invited Miraj, but that you neglected to think of Rex. It could quite possibly just be a buildup of feelings.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know the difference between a fairweather friend and a real friend?” He asked, bright blue eyes looking troubled and concerned at the difference.

“You’ll know when things get tough again.” Obi-Wan said and draped an arm around Anakin’s shoulders, partially because he was starting to lose feeling in his limbs from being outside for as long as they were.

“You’re a real friend.” Anakin said quietly.

“I’d like to think so.” Obi-Wan really did, too. He knew Satine was rightfully quite upset with him at the moment, but he liked to think that he was there for his friends when they needed him. He wasn’t perfect, but he did intend to show Anakin the proper values for him to proceed. “And it is my humble opinion that you should try to make up with Rex.”

“But how? He basically told me to bugger off and not to come back.” Anakin said, “And I don’t really want to, right now.”

“Sometimes, you have to be the better person and put yourself out there.” Obi-Wan advised.

“Just like you did with Satine?” Anakin arched an eyebrow at him.

“I- I never said I was quarreling with Satine.”

“When aren’t you is the better question.” He said, “It’s just a date. What’s the big deal?”

“First of all, it’s not a date. It’s a social gathering amongst intellectual acquaintances that she and I would merely be attending together in formal attire. Second of all, it’s past curfew and you’re lucky I haven’t taken to removing points from Gryffindor by now.”

“Sure, sure.” Anakin rolled his eyes, “Still not sure what I’m going to do about Rex. I already asked Miraj.”

“Just be honest with him. Give him some time to cool off.” Obi-Wan said and stood up, “Speaking of cooling off, I think we’ve done enough of that, wouldn’t you say?”

***

Anakin knew Obi-Wan had to be right in his advice to make up with Rex, but the trouble was finding the timing for such a thing. However, he reasoned this would be much easier to do once this silly banquet that started the quarrel in the first place was over. It didn’t make the way Rex refused to meet his eyes any easier.

In fact, Anakin began to understand some of what Rex had been talking about, as though he’d just noticed his friend’s absence. Even with Jax, Tru, and Ferus chatting with him eagerly about the banquet at breakfast, he couldn’t help but revert his eyes down the table to where Rex ate quietly with his brothers. All but Cody were present, who was actually sitting with Obi-Wan and Satine. Anakin wondered if his mentor was taking his own advice on that front.

He was relieved when Qui-Gon got up from his seat at the front of the Great Hall and walked over to him, making everyone else look rather small in comparison.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Anakin, but may I have a word?” He asked kindly, nodding cordially to the other boys.

“Oh, sure!” Anakin slid out from his seat, “I’ll see you later, guys!”

As he followed the large Head of House out of the Great Hall, he met Obi-Wan’s nondescript stare from across the room, but didn’t think much of it. Whatever obvious disagreement was happening between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan was their business. Anakin had enough trouble on his hands as it were.

They didn’t speak until they drifted down to his office, which was decorated aplomb with Christmas joy, even though his party wouldn’t be happening this year. He especially liked the charmed elf decoration that skated in endless crazy eights across the surface of his mantle. It was particularly interesting that Qui-Gon never seemed to stick exclusively to wizard-made decor. Instead, there were plenty of lights and trappings of garland that could be found in any muggle hardware store. It infused Anakin with the sort of merriment that felt akin to magic before he had a full grasp on his abilities.

“Is this about the necklace?” He asked.

“Yes and no.” Qui-Gon said as he leaned against his desk, “I heard you were invited to Sheev’s end of the year dinner party.”

Anakin scratched his head, briefly performing mental gymnastics to remember that Palpatine’s first name was certainly not “Professor” and that Qui-Gon likely didn’t call him by that when they were outside of professional settings. Still, he was also unsure what his invitation had to do with anything.

“Uh, and what of it?” He asked.

“Congratulations,” Though it sounded more of a formality than sincerity, “It’s unheard of that someone so young be invited.”

“Yeah, Professor Palpatine says he’s never met a wizard like me.” Anakin shrugged, trying not to boast lest he prove Rex correct.

“No one is the same as each other.” He said, “Everyone offers their own different strengths and weaknesses that deserve to be celebrated.”

“I think he just likes to do something nice for the gifted kids.” Anakin said.

“I’m sure Professor Palpatine means no malice in his little get-together, but segmenting chosen students with no official system for doing so can be… Misleading. All students at Hogwarts are gifted and regardless of grades, skills, or social standing, no one is overall better than the other.”

Anakin really didn’t see how that could be true, even if he weren’t the chosen one.

“So, you don’t want me to go?” Anakin asked.

“I did not say that.” He poured himself a cup of tea and sighed, “Quite the opposite, actually, I think it’s important you do attend the dinner.”

“No offense, but you’re not making much sense, Qui-Gon.”

He chuckled, “I’m not, am I?”

“No, sir. It doesn’t sound like you agree with Palpatine having a party at all. So, why encourage me to go?” Anakin decided to make himself comfortable and take a seat. Qui-Gon had a tendency to be long-winded, so he might as well prepare for a lecture.

“I have nothing negative to say about his having a party,” Qui-Gon said, “Do I wish he were a bit clearer in his system beyond picking favorites, perhaps? There are bigger issues at play, though, and it’s not my position or place anyway.”

“So, what is it?”

“As you know, Palpatine has a tendency to adopt people, so to speak, and not in a bad way, but with the hopes of passing down his own wisdom from past experiences.” He said, “And he’s included many interesting cases in this little club of his over the years. One of whom, many years ago, was a sixth year Slytherin boy who many considered to be… Troubled. Immensely talented? Yes, but it was how he used that power that was always concerning the professors.”

“How did he use it?” Anakin asked.

“You see, outside of the classroom he didn’t have many friends. He was aggressive and would occasionally perform some rather sinister tricks on those that crossed him. He was gifted at charms and transfiguration above all else and was even caught performing some rather… Disturbing spells on animals and leaving them in students’ beds.”

“Who was he?” Anakin asked.

He lifted a navy and silver leather bound book from his desk and flipped through some of the pages before finding what he’d been looking for. Wordlessly, Qui-Gon turned the book and pointed to a moving school portrait of Maul.

The rock that dropped in his stomach made Anakin question the company of this exclusive club that he was being invited into.

Anakin wrinkled his nose, “That’s terrible! Why would Palpatine want to take him under his wing?”

“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon frowned, “I suspect he wanted to help him, but…”

“But what?”

He placed his teacup down delicately before folding his hands in front of him, “It would benefit us to learn whatever we can about Maul and his potential motives for seeking you out. As of right now, Palpatine is the only person I know who was close with him.”

“So, you want me to go to the banquet to get information from Palpatine?” Anakin clarified and for some reason, the task didn’t sit right with him. In fact, it felt an awful lot like spying.

“I warn you to act with discretion, of course,” Qui-Gon raised a hand, “Sheev has never mentioned Maul once in the years I’ve known him. The only reason I’m aware of his previous kinship with Maul was because I… Stumbled upon this information as a first year. I’d not thought much of it then, but now… It would certainly be wise to see what he knows.”

“Will it upset him?” Anakin couldn’t help but ask. After all, he was already out one friend right now. He really didn’t need to go cutting off all his ties.

“I think it would upset him more if anything bad were to happen to you as a result of his own silence.” Qui-Gon clarified, “The truth, while not always easy, must come out.”

***

Padmé was having a difficult time figuring out what she wanted to get her friends for Christmas. It was to no surprise that Hondo tried to weasel his way into her decision making process, armed with t-shirts, trinkets, and buttons with Anakin Skywalker’s face plastered all over it. She would have laughed if the exploitation of the younger student wasn’t a little sad. It was even worse that Anakin didn’t seem to have a grasp yet on why this wasn’t ideal.

She was in the process of knitting a scarf for Yané with a new spell she learned in charms, when she noticed him walk by looking quite out of place in an oversized suit. For once, he was alone and without his newfound posse of older students.

“Anakin?” He halted right in his tracks at her call, appearing uncharacteristically lost in thought.

“Oh, hey Padmé!” He chirped, but lacked some of the boyish excitement that usually emanated off of him. She was beginning to wonder if the stress of Maul’s looming presence was getting to him. She knew she would be afraid if there was not one, but two, bad guys on the hunt for her.

“What’s with the suit?” She gestured to his outfit.

“Oh, you know, gotta fit in with the big boys.” He did that thing where he was trying desperately to seem like he belonged. She wondered briefly where that stemmed from.

“Ah, I heard you were going to Palpatine’s dinner party.” She said.

“Yeah, I’m actually on my way to pick up my date.” He leaned against the doorframe, clearly trying to impress her with such information. For what reason, she didn’t understand, but didn’t doubt it had to do with this macho facade he had clearly been building for the other students.

“Date?” She played along.

“Miraj Scintel. Don’t take it personally.” He waved her off, “She really wanted to go.”

Padmé wasn’t shocked by that. She didn’t know Miraj too well, given she was a grade older and a Slytherin, which meant they essentially walked different circles here at Hogwarts. However, she knew enough to know that her crowd of people wasn’t exactly notorious for being warm and fuzzy. Her parents, like Padmé’s, were dignitaries, though not known as a very merciful and kind sort.

In fact, there were some dark rumors about how they ran their government.

“Why would I take it personally?” She snorted.

“Because you know…” He trailed off.

“No…” She said slowly.

“Oh,” Anakin ran a hand through his floppy blond hair and winced, “Well, sometimes girls get jealous when you ask someone else to go to dinners or parties or something. Pretty sure that’s the gist of what’s happening to Obi-Wan and Satine.”

Padmé straightened, “We’re not like them of course.”

Anakin floundered a bit at that, “No no, of course not! They’re… Weird and we’re…”

“Friends.” She finished with a smile.

“We are?” He asked, which made her laugh.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” She asked.

“I dunno, really,” He smiled shyly, “Age differences and all that.”

“Aren’t you taking an older woman as your date tonight?” She asked wryly.

“Obi-Wan says this isn’t a date.” He said, “I think he’s just saying that because he didn’t want Cody getting any ideas.”

“Why’s he taking Cody?” Padmé gaped.

“He mentioned something about being a fool, but he really does not like to talk about his feelings.” Anakin sighed, “Guess he’s got some growing up to do on that front.”

That got Padmé legitimately laughing. Maybe it was because the kid who lost Gryffindor 5 points for getting caught calling Windu a “doo-doo head” behind his back was doling out advice on maturity.

He glanced at the automatically moving knitting needles that worked next to her, “What are you making?”

“A scarf, probably,” She turned to resume with her hands, “I know it’s not as exciting as an elegant dinner party with the fellow elites, but if I want to get it ready by Christmas I’ve got to get a move on.”

“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of fancy dinners.” Anakin stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.” She smirked, “So, if you get sick of the party life or the tiny little finger sandwiches, please feel free to lend a helping hand. I could use someone to untangle the yarn.”

“Surely, there are spells for that too.” He said.

“Maybe, but some things are better when you put a little earnest hard work into it.”

“You kinda sound like my mom.” Anakin smiled softly and after a moment of gazing somewhere in the distance he sighed, “Yeah, well, I better be off.”

“Have fun on your hot date.” She teased.

“I will.” He said, though he no longer seemed so sure of it.

***

“No flowers?” Cody teased as Obi-Wan met his friend outside of Gryffindor’s common room as previously agreed upon. Obi-Wan truly should have expected Cody to miss the memo about dressing formally (even though he, himself, reminded him), but he was still aghast when his friend emerged wearing his Quidditch sweater and dark jeans.

“What happened to black tie?” He answered instead.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” Cody shrugged.

“But you do have a collared shirt and dress pants seeing as you wear them every school day.” Obi-Wan countered and referred to his own attire of a black and white tuxedo set of dress robes. “Is that a stain on the collar of your sweater?”

“Could be.” Cody tugged on the hem of it and ducked his chin to inspect before allowing it to snap back into place, “Seems like ketchup, though. Luckily, it practically blends in with the red.”

“It doesn’t.” He said.

“Look, if you wanted someone who would have looked a little more to your fancy, you would have just sucked it up and apologized to Satine.” He said and smacked him on the back, “But since the both of you are more stubborn than two bulls in a stare down, this is what you get. Frankly, you’re quite lucky I showered beforehand. I did have practice today.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “Let the record show that I have tried to apologize to Satine. She just never makes it quite easy.”

“She’ll come around,” Cody said, “Plus, I doubt she’s solely mad at you.”

“You’d be surprised how easy she finds it to be mad at me.”

“And likewise.” Cody said.

“The only difference is, I struggle with staying mad at her.” It was a bit too honest, it seemed, because Cody was regarding him with a smug look on his face that he didn’t quite appreciate. He’d rather be in on the joke, after all.

As they drew nearer to Palpatine’s office, they passed Ventress, who was dressed for the event in a black low-cut gown with a slit down the side. Her short-cropped hair was slicked back and her makeup was even harsher than usual, making her bone-white cheeks appear so sharp that they were almost hollow. She seemed to be waiting for someone, presumably whatever sad sack was to be her plus one, and was sure to glare at them as they passed.

“I see you’re slumming it, Kenobi.” She taunted, “Couldn’t get a date?”

“At least I didn’t likely have to bribe my guest, Ventress.” He responded swiftly and kept them moving.

“Or threaten.” Cody added offhandedly and when they got out of earshot said, “I won’t mention that I’m mostly here for the food.”

“Yes, thank you.” He muttered. “Let’s just get this thing over with.”

“Satine’s right, you really do know how to send the tones of a date.” Cody chuckled.

“This isn’t a- oh, nevermind.” He sighed, realizing that he wasn’t much in the mood to defend his case on that just now, “Who do you reckon she wanted to go with?”

“What do you mean?” He asked as they took their seats around the round clothed table. They were some of the first to arrive to the group that was unsurprisingly mostly composed of Slytherins. Palpatine was their Head of House, of course, so it made sense he spent the most time with them.

“Satine.” Obi-Wan unraveled the cloth napkin and smoothed it on his leg, “She was offended that I never considered if she’d want to go with someone else.”

“I don’t know if that’s the bit she was harping on.” Cody said carefully.

“Yes, I know, and she isn’t wrong about the company being a bit… Obvious.” Obi-Wan did see a downcast Anakin trailing behind who he presumed to be Miraj Scintel, whose Zygerrian feline features made her look much older and more sophisticated than 14 or 15. Her dress was long-sleeved and dark turquoise in fabric, but contained several plates of ornate gold to match the headband clasped at the front of her forehead.

“Anakin, dear, do fetch me some sparkling cider.” She said in a haughty voice that was meant to be heard. Her yellow eyes narrowed at him when he didn’t immediately leap at her request. “I have many words to exchange with the grownups.”

Anakin, who never leapt at anyone’s demands, shot her a sideways look and seemed ready to fire back his own opinions on that idea, but ended up just huffing and moving over to the concessions table.

“No,” Cody frowned as he noticed what was happening too, “She isn’t.”

***

Satine had far better uses of her time than sitting around a table, trading dull conversation with even duller people that were somehow measured as more impressive than she. Despite what she said to Cody and Obi-Wan, not being invited hadn’t really offended her all that much. That wasn’t to say she approved of Palpatine’s obvious biases. She wasn’t sure if the man even truly noticed he had them. He was never unkind to her or other muggle-borns explicitly, but there was certainly a bit of tokenism that came with their interactions. Truly, even if Obi-Wan had asked her in a more ideal manner, she wasn’t even sure if she’d go.

She sighed, because that was a lie and she knew it.

It certainly would have given her the opportunity to show just how flagrant Palpatine’s oversight had been. Beyond that, she wouldn’t have felt so utterly annoyed at her friend’s own obtusity.

How dare he just assume they’d go together without even asking? Even if they were to attend as friends, which she prided herself on questioning him about (if she weren’t so riled up, she was unsure she would have otherwise had the courage), it was only common decency to ask a person to go.

Really, she knew, it was the fact that he seemed dead-set on letting her know that it wasn’t a date that infuriated her beyond measure. Maybe that was a tad immature, since he certainly didn’t owe her dates or anything of the sort, but she couldn’t help but feel he was constantly sending her mixed signals these days. She should know, seeing as she couldn’t seem to stop hyper-analyzing every interaction they had together.

As she passed a bunch of fourth year girls that were gawking over Kit Fisto’s old Quidditch portrait, she rolled her eyes. She needed to ensure that she never got that boy crazy.

She decided on a trip to the library to return the books she’d borrowed on cursed objects. It was the simplest way to try and get Obi-Wan’s stupid incredulity off her mind. Besides, she never returned a book late before and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.

Professor Plo Koon had once again outdone himself with the decorations around the castle to commemorate the holiday season. It wasn’t the same without the promise of Qui-Gon’s party this year, but she could still take the time to appreciate the glittering icicles that hung along the ceiling. Only these, she noted, would have no risk of truly causing harm. She did have to reserve a chuckle at a startled first year, who leapt out of the way when an icicle “fell”, but they relaxed when it puffed into mist just above his head.

“Good evening, Ms. Nu.” Satine smiled at the older librarian, who never once looked like she was having an unpleasant day.

“How are you tonight, Miss Kryze?” She returned her mirth. Jocasta Nu always dressed for the holiday season and tonight was sporting a pair of earrings that looked like little red jingle bells adorned with holly.

“I’m well, thank you.” She nodded and handed over her stack of books to the bin, “Hoping to get a little light reading in.”

“Nothing new there!” She chuckled, “Though I was surprised to see you have a different studying partner for a change.”

Satine furrowed her brow, “Pardon? I haven’t got a new-”

She peered down the aisle to where she usually sat and noticed a set of legs from the seat opposite. She gave Jocasta Nu a sidelong glance before excusing herself to go investigate. It was silly, really, since it wasn’t like her name was inscribed in the wood finish. However, she spent more time in the library than most and everyone seemed to automatically know where she would be sitting.

Who she found was none other than Fenn Rau, who looked up immediately from his borrowed copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and offered her a small smile. He set down the book and placed a navy striped bookmark to save his spot.

“Forgive me if I’m intruding.” He said.

“It is a free library.” She joked, “You are free to sit wherever you choose.”

“This really is the best spot in the library.” He admired and looked around them. “No draft, away from the rubble, close to the most interesting books, and not too far from the entrance for comfort. You’ve chosen well!”

She followed his gaze around them and smiled, “I didn’t actually choose at all. Though I’m sure Ben took a lot of what you said into consideration. He’s a great deal more introspective than I am for such things.”

When his mouth twitched ever-so-slightly, Satine couldn’t help but think back to her conversation with Aayla and Stass. Still, when he made the friendly gesture for her to join him, she didn’t have much of a reason not to. She meant what she said to Jocasta Nu about getting some reading done and Fenn didn’t seem like the type to be noisy.

“Did you know Cody has the record for renting this book out the most?” Fenn laughed and showed her the inside of the book, where the library card had Cody’s signature embedded on several lines.

“When it comes to Quidditch, Cody doesn’t do anything in small doses.” Satine smiled, “I am surprised you chose to go out for the team. I don’t recall you ever having much interest in it before.”

“Things change.” He smiled, “People change.”

“Well, you’ve certainly proved yourself capable.” She said and moved to pull a book out from her bag.

“You know all about having to prove yourself, of course.” He said.

She raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly amended his statement, “I just meant being muggle-born and all. I get it. I mean, I’m not one. I’m a half blood, but it’s still strange, right? That there are different expectations for each of us based on something stupid like how we’re born. We’re all wizards, right?”

Satine felt a fire stoked within her and she straightened, “Exactly! And the fact that so many people don’t see that is beyond frustrating.”

“Well, some people don't know any better.” He said, “Look at the Kenobi’s. They’re one of the highest ranking families in the wizarding community. Do you think they could possibly understand what it’s like not to be born into wealth and status? I think they just assume they deserve it because they’ve had it for so long.”

She bit her tongue, because while she definitely agreed with some of his points, she wasn’t completely comfortable making them vocal right now.

Despite there not being any real cause for it, since Rau didn’t say anything explicitly, Satine still instinctively found herself saying, “Ben’s not like that, of course, so it’s got to be more than just a thing of nature.”

“Oh, of course! I never meant to insinuate otherwise.” He cleared his throat, “I know the two of you are quite close. I just… You’re just as good as him and yet you aren’t viewed as such. And between you and me, I don’t think I could ever go to some party where my friends aren’t wanted or welcome.”

She swallowed, unsure if he meant for that to sting the way that it did. He couldn’t possibly know he was uncovering one of her buried insecurities on the matter. She once again could not help dashing to his defense, which felt quite stupid given the circumstances.

“Well, originally he wanted to bring me.”

“I think.” She thought to herself. It wasn’t like he’d exactly seemed all that enthusiastic about the prospect of taking her.

“As a date?” Fenn perked up, even if he seemed to try and subdue any immediate reaction.

“No.” She rolled her eyes, “We’re just friends.”

“Ah, I see.” He nodded several times too many, but then shrugged, “He’s lucky to have a friend like you though.”

“Thank you. I know.” She chuckled, because perhaps Aayla and Stass were wrong about Rau’s intentions. It wasn’t like she ever saw him trailing along any friends. Maybe he was just a little awkward and in need of a friend. It was only a bonus that he seemed to have at least some critical understanding of the prejudice that still existed in their world.

“I do hope he knows it too.” He teased.

“I think he does,” But she felt a biting indignance return to her, “Well, usually, anyway.”

Fenn frowned, “Usually?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to have this conversation right now and burden someone else with the stupid annoyance that plagued her. Oftentimes, her feelings confused her too much as it were. No need to dump all of it on someone else.

“I’m not at the party, am I?” She said and hoped she did so with the impression of wanting to leave it at that, “Besides, I don’t require validation from the potions professor to determine my value. I will be just fine on my own.”

“I’m sure of it.” Rau said, “He’s a fool for not choosing you in the first place.”

Whether he was talking about Obi-Wan or Palpatine had yet to be seen, but Satine couldn’t help but agree either way. Try as she might to argue otherwise, she did care that things were the way they were. She did care that she had to try twice as hard to be considered half as much. Even though Obi-Wan was her best friend, she knew there were opportunities he would always receive despite being on essentially the same playing field.

“Yes,” She said ardently, “He was.”

***

Anakin was beginning to understand why Palpatine’s annual dinner party was rarely occupied by younger students. He was having an impossibly difficult time staying awake. Miraj, as beautifully alluring and sophisticated as she was, wasn’t exactly the most loyal type, and sat between Ventress and Tarkin, the latter of whom she was obviously flirting with.

He was actually a bit relieved in a sense. It became despicably clear that the two didn’t have much in common beyond their intrigue in the darkness that hung over the horizon. She couldn’t seem to stop fixating on the dementors or the numerous near-death experiences. Anakin was wondering why he was tired of talking about them all the time now.

Classical Christmas music from a harp that played itself enveloped the room in a sleepy spirit and to Anakin felt a bit like a lullaby. Most of the chatter cycled around what each wizard’s prospects were for the future or what their parents did. It seemed mostly everyone already knew, so Anakin wasn’t quite sure why it bore repeating.

“So, mummy and daddy told the prime minister just where to shove his chilled water.” Scoffed Miraj, “Where I come from, presenting anything less than room temperature is enough for banishment.”

He didn’t quite get where she was from, but he made the mental note not to visit. Obi-Wan and Cody seemed to be making the same notation for themselves, because they both exchanged a surprised glance. Anakin was suddenly very glad that he was sitting with them instead.

“Truly, very few know how to behave around noblemen and women.” Tarkin, whose face always looked stretched stiff across his bones, showed the barest of smiles, “I’d have liked to see how you would have handled such an incident.”

“I’m merciful at the core, of course,” Miraj said, “But it does make one think about the divides in society, doesn’t it?”

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat beside Anakin and when he took a better look at his mentor, he couldn’t help but notice his jaw looked set with tension. His posture was perfectly straight and he’d hardly touched the sweet-soup that was in front of him. Anakin, on the other hand, couldn’t stop doing so as a distraction from this nonsense.

“That’s for your fingers,” Obi-Wan whispered and stretched out a napkin for Anakin.

“What?”

“That’s a finger bowl.” He nodded his head towards the little bowl, “For cleaning.”

Anakin looked down to the glass bowl to scrutinize it. He bent down, smelling the soft scent of lemon that was barely much more than a spritz for ambiance. When he shot back up, he glared at Obi-Wan.

“Why would I do that?” He asked.

“It’s meant to be cleansing before dessert.” He added gently, “Just go with it.”

“This is stupid.” He muttered and proceeded to dip his fingers in the bowl as instructed.

“I think it’s time our resident chosen one spoke of his impressive background.” Ventress practically hissed from across the table. Only difference was that Anakin would trust any snake before her, no matter how poisonous.

“Go on, Anakin.” Professor Palpatine smiled encouragingly, “I, too, am quite curious, actually.”

Had he really never mentioned his mum in detail to Palpatine before? He supposed it was possible. He was often so preoccupied when around the professor.

For some reason, he didn’t feel like he belonged anymore as he looked around the table. Even Miraj, who was supposed to be his plus one to the event, was looking at him in scrutiny.

“Well, I’m a half-blood.” Admitting this felt like lead on the tongue and he didn’t know why. He realized then that it was the first time he’d openly said such a thing. Sure, most knew that his mum is a witch and his dad was a muggle, but he’d never used the vocabulary to describe it in plain speech.

“I’ve no connection to my father.” He added, “But my mum is a witch and went to Hogwarts.”

“Why?” Ventress asked, her eyes narrowed and looking at him scathingly, though unlike Sebulba, who he at least returned some retaliation to, Anakin couldn’t quite figure out what he’d done for Ventress to hate him.

“Now, now, Ventress,” Palpatine said firmly, “That’s quite personal. If Anakin does not wish to share, that’s his-”

“-I never knew him.” Anakin bit harshly and looked at every single person at the table in the eyes, if only to make them a little uncomfortable by the truth, “He left before I was born and I was raised with the knowledge of being a wizard in an all-muggle world.”

“You poor thing.” Miraj said sadly, “That must have been dreadful.”

“Agreed,” Tarkin leaned back with crossed arms, “To not only bring a child into this world as a natural… Misfit, so to speak, but to bail out on one’s duties as a father.”

“Anakin is not a misfit, Tarkin.” Obi-Wan warned.

“Oh, I never meant it that way.” He held up white gloved hands and smiled a bit, “Just that it must be confusing to be raised that way, right Skywalker?”

Anakin shrugged, “Yeah, I was always getting into trouble.”

“Exactly! Like a square peg trying to fit into a circle.” He clapped a bit and then raised an eyebrow, “You know nothing of struggling to fit in, do you, Kenobi?”

Anakin didn’t understand the daring nature of Tarkin’s tone, but it did bring a decent amount of tension to Obi-Wan’s already stiff posture. He didn’t see how this would be much of a low-blow. Obi-Wan’s family was one of the most affluent in the wizarding community and surely never wanted for anything. Still, there was something about his mentor that reflected differently, like he never really wanted to be a part of all that.

“Everyone must struggle to find themselves.” Palpatine said as he swirled what must have been wine around his glass, raising it to inspect it in the emerald low-light, “I’ve helped many a student find their way.”

Was one of those students Maul?

“If only the muggles had your assistance, Professor.” Miraj said dutifully.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “Well, muggle-borns would probably be a decent start.”

Everyone stopped eating and looked at Obi-Wan in surprise. Even Cody seemed shocked by the candor of his friend. Anakin, on the other hand, was just realizing that he was the only person in the room that wasn’t a pureblood. Surely, that couldn’t have been intentional. Professor Palpatine was nothing but kind to every student he had. Maybe, this year he didn’t see any other students worthy of invitation.

Then again, there was the glaring omission of Satine that seemed to hang over everyone’s heads.

“Professor Palpatine can invite whomever he chooses fit, Kenobi.” Tarkin said stiffly.

Palpatine didn’t appear the least bit affected by the comment and instead raised his glass in Obi-Wan’s steely direction, “A good point, my dear boy. We, as a community, are moving forward in a diverse direction. I just do not wish to invite someone based on tokenism, but of their truest merit.”

“And what defines such a thing, Professor?” Obi-Wan asked, keeping his voice cordial. “Clearly, it cannot be solely academic prowess or athleticism.”

“Why, I simply like to invite students I’m closest with! Those who I’ve seen grow and become brilliant young witches and wizards over the years and who I believe I’ve had a hand in molding.” Palpatine shrugged with a small smile, “I truly wish some of the muggle-borns and half-bloods would follow Anakin’s example and allow themselves to accel in my potions classroom.”

Anakin nodded at this. It was true that he had been gravitating towards Palpatine since the beginning of his time at Hogwarts. While he never fancied himself a teacher’s pet in the past, he didn’t understand why people were so afraid to talk to their professors.

“Good enough for you and your sudden zest for socio-political justice?” Ventress asked and the condescending tone she was giving Obi-Wan was what made Anakin angrier than anything else.

“It will have to be.” Obi-Wan said with a sip of sparkling cider.

Cody grinned as he ate more lambchop.

“Do tell us about your mother, Anakin.” Palpatine said with a smile, “Contrary to popular belief, I am quite curious what your life in the muggle world was like.”

“Oh, I lived a pretty regular life.” Though Anakin realized not a single wizard at this table really knew what that entailed for him, “My mum is a waitress and serves food to people.”

“We’re not stone aged, we know what waitresses are.” Ventress sneered.

“They don’t use magic to deliver food.” Anakin said, “So it’s a lot harder and they have to balance everything on this big tray. She works for this creep named Watto, who never gives her any holidays off or anything like that.”

“That’s awful.” Bail Organa, the sole representative from Hufflepuff house, said.

“Sounds like slavery to me.” Cody murmured.

“But she makes decent money.” He said, “Keeps a roof over our head and food in our stomach.”

“Who would have thought the bar was so low?” Miraj sighed.

Anakin ignored that and went on, “One thing muggles definitely have over wizards is television, because I’ve grown up watching a good deal of that. There’s all these fictional programs both animated and live-action and they act out stories.”

“Like in a play.” Obi-Wan said, utterly transfixed, “I’ve heard of it before, but I’ve never actually watched. Is it occurring live or is it pre-recorded?”

“Both!” Anakin chirped, “Reality TV is crazy and super weird. My mum says that’s staged too, but I don’t know if you can make some of that stuff up. I used to think the TV could hear me, but there are writers that make up the plots and stuff before they film.”

“And how does one operate such a device?” Tarkin asked.

“Oh, by electricity and stuff!”

“Electricity.” Cody said reverently, “We’ve actually got some of that in my house now.”

“No kidding?” Obi-Wan turned to Cody.

“For light bulbs and stuff. Ninety-Nine managed to figure out.”

“Well, he’s got not much else to do.” Snickered Faro Argyus, who had accompanied Ventress as her date.

“What did you say?” Gritted Cody as he placed firm hands to the table.

“Oh, nothing, just that he isn’t in school is all.” Faro’s smile feigned innocence, but had a shit-eating quality that made Anakin’s skin crawl. The fact that he chose now to join the discourse was a very poor decision on his end. Cody, meanwhile, looked like a blood vessel might burst in his head.

“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. Just a warning that you might be spitting out some teeth too, if you say the wrong thing, mate.” Cody said tightly.

Everyone looked to Faro, who just snapped his trap shut like the coward he was and leaned back in his chair. Palpatine gave him a disapproving look before sighing.

“Please maintain decorum. This is meant to be a celebration, not a brawl.”

“Tell that to pretty boy.” Cody argued.

“I do not want to have to remove any points this evening, especially not from two guests.” Palpatine said it like he was reminding them that they didn’t need to be there. They were merely courtesies to Obi-Wan and Ventress.

“Don’t be a fool, Faro.” Ventress said, “We all know everyone’s capable in their own way.”

“Right you are, Ventress.” Palpatine smiled.

“For instance, Skywalker’s mum can screw more than just a lightbulb.” She fluttered her icy glare to Anakin, “Obviously.”

Anakin only remembered grabbing a fistful of bean dip before seeing nothing but white.

***

After finally calming the calamity of flying food that ensued shortly after Anakin had made the first decisive throw, Professor Palpatine had deemed that the night was to be put to an abrupt end since it seemed most of them could not behave like civilized adults. This was fine with Obi-Wan, who hadn’t bothered to remove points from Anakin for starting the whole fight. After all, Ventress truly had something coming to her for speaking so far out of turn for no reason other than to be cruel.

Palpatine dismissed each of them except for Anakin, presumably to receive a firm talking to based on how impulsively he’d acted. Obi-Wan hoped he wasn’t too hard on him. It wasn’t like it hadn’t been deserved.

But that wasn’t how things worked at Hogwarts or in the real world, as his parents had been sure to teach him. Life wasn’t always fair and sometimes the wrong person got blamed simply for not being able to control themselves. It was why the aspect of controlling his emotions was always so important to them.

And for the most part, he thought he was quite good at it.

He still hadn’t been able to resist countering Palpatine’s charitable view of himself when it came to his invitees- not when there was a glaring omission. It wasn’t like Obi-Wan was particularly close with Palpatine. His parents might have been in their day, so he supposed there was a favor to be had there (one that likely would not be handed to him next year).

Guilt nagged at him as he considered the lack of empathy that dripped in Tarkin, Miraj, and Faro’s voices as they talked about the muggles or even Anakin’s situation. Even more so was it disturbing that Obi-Wan had clearly shielded himself from seeing just how clearly people were opposed to the other side of living. He didn’t get it, truly. Why did it matter? It wasn’t like muggles were exactly hunting them out. They would have a clear disadvantage if they were.

But maybe that was his own biases talking. Satine had gone on to tell him in excessive detail over the years about the various enhancements in modern technology that placed muggles far ahead of wizards. Maybe that’s what scared so many at the Ministry.

Still, Obi-Wan knew it wasn’t right. He saw the way Anakin looked so small under their questioning and he cringed at being unable to protect him completely from the scrutiny that would surely follow the boy. It certainly didn’t help his case that his father wasn’t involved. Wizards would grasp onto that for something to point to for certain, as if there weren’t plenty of wizard or witch deadbeats in their era.

His dress shoes clicked across the stone floor towards the library almost mindlessly. He knew he wouldn’t rest well if he didn’t express a true sentiment of apology. In a way, he was glad Satine wasn’t there. She didn’t deserve to be exposed to that sort of thinking. She could handle herself, of course, and while he was often beguiled by her, it had been obvious that she was upset by his manner of asking.

It wasn’t very proper of him, thinking back. His parents would have been very disappointed in how he’d gone about it if it were someone else.

So, he smiled at Jocasta Nu as he stuck his hands in his pockets and prepared himself to approach Satine with his tail between his legs. He couldn’t help but smile to himself about the fact that she was so often ahead of him and was likely expecting an appearance any second from now.

“Oh, Mr. Kenobi?” Jocasta Nu’s kind voice cut him off before he could get too far.

“Yes, Madame Nu?” He asked.

“You’re… Er, you’ve got some potatoes in your hair, dear.”

Obi-Wan frowned and turned his eyes up, noticing that his hair, while in disarray, was also coated in a white fluffy substance. He groaned as he reached up and grabbed a sample of it.

“That explains why Zeb asked me if I’m saving food for later, now doesn’t it?” He laughed half-heartedly. He glanced down towards his usual aisle and sighed. It seemed he would not only be giving Satine an apology, but something to tease him about for a very long time. At least that would make it a lot easier to accept his apology.

He tried to pick what he could from his hair and frowned even deeper at the realization that his clothes were covered in random splotches of food substance as well. He would certainly need to perform some cleaning and ironing spells on these later to get the stains out.

He was just about to vocalize a pun about wearing his dinner when he stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar sound of Satine’s laugh. Unless she was reading a particularly humorous tome, which he doubted, she wasn’t alone. As he slowly crept down the aisle and remained careful to be eclipsed by the bookcases around him, he peered around the corner to see none other than Fenn Rau sitting across from her.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why it suddenly felt like he’d eaten something bad at the dinner party, but it certainly wasn’t settling well. Rau was sitting in Obi-Wan’s usual seat, which bore a greater sense of unease in his chest as they chatted excitedly about what appeared to be the ridiculousness of wizarding politics.

It seemed Rau had found his in.

If Satine didn’t seem to appreciate the present company, Obi-Wan surely would have made his presence known and a small part of him- the part that made his teeth bite down on his tongue incredibly hard- still wanted to. For what? It felt strangely similar to the analogy of a pissing contest at the core and he didn’t know why he would be so eager to butt his way into their conversation.

It certainly wasn’t the way Satine’s laugh lit up the room or how Rau seemed to relish in just being in her mere presence. It absolutely was not that he’d beat him here or sat in his seat. It wasn’t like the guilt that once pooled in his sternum was now slipping into regret, as it so often easily could.

No, not at all.

As Rau talked about how passionate his wizard-father was about activism and his mother was practically an environmentalist, Obi-Wan suddenly felt like he didn’t belong here at all. It was as though he’d fallen so far behind on a race he never intended on running and to his perspective, could not catch up.

Did he want to?

He shook his head. Since she was happy and clearly not sulking over not attending Palpatine’s disastrous dinner party, he supposed he would just catch her at a different time.

***

Anakin didn’t quite remember lashing out at Asajj Ventress, but everyone, including Miraj, looked at him with a decent dose of apprehension. It was a stark reminder of what it felt like to be the freak last year. He didn’t like it, but it was sobering.

What worried him most was how Palpatine would react to his reaction. He wasn’t sure how anyone in their right mind could possibly allow Ventress off the hook for what she’d said. Even Obi-Wan hadn’t provided some lecture about how he could control his own actions and not the words of others. Instead, his mentor tried to quietly guide him out of the room to cool off. Instead, Palpatine had stopped him to have a chat.

The music had abruptly stopped, though Anakin had been so busy trying to garner some form of revenge on Ventress for what she said to notice. Everyone else had completely wrecked the place with scraps of food. Those finger bowls had truly been terribly placed and more of a mess in the end. Anakin, like everything else around the room, was covered in the five course meal.

It was at least a little good to know that wizards couldn’t resist a good food fight either.

He wondered when Palpatine was going to speak. He looked around the room in disappointment before raising his wand just above his head.

“Tersus Sursum!” He dashed his wand in an arched movement and before Anakin’s eyes, a mop and broom came flying out of the cupboard and got to work. A rag wiped down the walls where stray splatter had gathered. Even the ceiling was being tended to, which neither of them could have possibly reached if they wanted. Dishes raised themselves in the air and started to move to an already running sink. Palpatine didn’t even have to focus on them to continue their routine.

Anakin, despite likely being in massive trouble, couldn’t help but yearn for such a trick when he had to do chores at home. Still, if he wasn’t going to make Anakin clean the place, he wondered what punishment would seem fit.

“I apologize for the mess, Professor.” Anakin said quietly.

The only thing Palpatine took the time to clean for himself was a strange contraption that sat across his mantle. It was a little wooden prism that had to be a paperweight, that Palpatine touched only with the washcloth in hand before setting it back down.

“What Ventress said upset you.” He said instead.

Anakin frowned, “Well, yeah. Where I’m from, you don’t disrespect someone’s mum like that.”

“Indeed, mothers are often a soft spot,” He folded his hands behind his back, facing the darkness of his room as the cleaning tools worked on their own accord, “You do not need to apologize, Anakin.”

This surprised Anakin even more, “Really?”

If Windu had it his way, Anakin likely would have been writing a 5000 word essay on why throwing potatoes at a girl was worthy of the death penalty… Or something along those lines.

“Something was done wrong by you and you evened the score.” He said and finally turned back to face the light, a small smile on his lips, “You really should not fear your anger, my boy. It is only healthy to explore it, to understand it, to become the kind of powerful wizard you wish to be one day.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Anakin said.

“But of course, my dear boy.” Palpatine smiled, “If I could make a recommendation, it’s that next time you wish to get back at Ventress, please ruin your own drapes.”

He chuckled, “Yes sir.”

Through the fog of relief and surprise that was overcoming his senses, Anakin finally remembered his purpose for truly attending the banquet. It had been hard in the midst of the chaos that he’d brought and was even more difficult to fathom when Palpatine was being so understanding.

He stopped in his tracks, which had obviously caught Palpatine’s attention.

“Is everything alright, Anakin?”

“Yeah, I just… I wanted to say I’m glad you’ve chosen to take me under your wing…” Anakin lingered in the doorway. “Any student would be lucky. Pureblood or half-blood or not.”

“It matters not to me what you are, Anakin.” Palpatine said, “I believe you will go on to do great things. I’ve believed that before we discovered your prophecy, have I not?”

Anakin nodded, “You have… But what was it about me that made you believe I was special?”

“I’m older than you can imagine, I’m sure.” He laughed a bit to himself, “One develops a knack for it after all these years.”

“Did you see something in Maul?” It wasn’t as discrete as he’d hoped to be, especially based on the way the smile flickered on Palpatine’s face before he shook his head numerous times in curious denial.

“Maul was a very troubled boy.” He shivered, “Quite troubled, indeed. A very different situation than you. I wanted to help him, whereas I believe one day, you will help me and the rest of the wizarding community.”

Anakin swallowed, “So, you weren’t close?”

“I mentored him as best I could,” He said sympathetically, “He used to live in that Shrieking Shack during the summers. He had nowhere else to go. I only wanted to help him. Opened up my office to him at any time, because I did see power in him. It was a dangerous sort, of course, so I knew I had to limit him in what he could learn. There were certain spells and paths to darkness that while someone like myself could merely study from an objective perspective, Maul could use for real damage.”

“What happened to him?” He asked.

“He…” Palpatine sighed, “He lost control one day. A young Twi’lek girl named Eldra Kaitis was found impaled by none other than Maul’s dagger.”

Could it have been the same dagger found in the parcel Maul sent him?

Anakin gasped, “But… Why?”

“I asked myself that very question.” He said as he walked over to the window to look outside, “And the only answer that allows me to properly sleep at night is knowing that there was no helping him. There are people who choose darkness, Anakin. Those people can grow to be strong and wise in their own right. Look at Dooku, for instance. While evil, of course, he still maintains his sanity and decorum. Maul, on the other hand, was born of it. And there is no use trying to sustain it.”

He swallowed, “You must have taken that quite hard.”

“Oh, I did.” He said, “It was my greatest failure to date.”

Anakin shook his head, “I’m sorry to bring this up, Professor. I’m sure it upsets you talking about it. I’ve just been trying to find out why Maul would ever want to come for me. It’s not like I’ve ever done anything to him.”

“Well, we are turning up on the anniversary of his first kill.” Palpatine said, “And in many ways, I believe Maul fancies himself set up.”

“By who?” Anakin frowned, “He did it himself.”

“And admitted to it.” He said gravely, “We can’t really trust the tongue of a mad-man, though, can we?”

“No,” Anakin said, “We can’t.”

After he’d turned to leave and bid Palpatine goodnight, the old man waited a long moment, choosing to retain the sullen and sympathetic mask he wore so well, before curling his wrinkled lips into a devious smile.

“Sending the boy to spy… Well played, Professor Qui-Gon.”

***

“You were right…” The apprentice said to the flames that crackled softly in Slytherin house. Not a single soul dared to be awake after the embarrassment they’d just been through. The luminescence of the green fire felt like a reflection of her soul.

“Good…” A hushed voice responded. “You know what you need to do.”

“Yes.” They said, eyes practically glowing in anticipation for what was to come next. “So, long as that monster Maul doesn’t get in our way.”

“I’m sure he’ll be taken care of.” Dooku’s sly grin could send chills even so close to the hot flames.

“How can you be so sure?” They asked.

“He has a bone to pick with my master,” Dooku said, “The inadequate brute is never wise enough to know his limits. He believes he has none.”

“I see,” They said, “And what of me?”

“Do you have the sword?” His deep voice rumbled in his throat.

“I do.”

“Oh, there will be plenty more where that comes from,” He said. “Plenty more indeed. I will see you over break so we can reconvene.”

***

Satine yawned as she finally made her way up the spiral staircase and into the Ravenclaw common room. She’d been intent on going straight to bed, but was stopped immediately by a very disheveled-looking Obi-Wan as he practically launched up from his spot on the couch, where he’d obviously been waiting for her.

“You’re back.” He said and it was immediately apparent that something was off with him.

For one thing, he looked like he’d just paced back and forth enough times to accumulate the steps for a full marathon. His face was red and he looked quite anxious over seeing her. It was clear he had been waiting for her though.

Another, was that he was covered in food.

She’d almost forgotten how cross she was with him when she saw how silly he truly looked. She moved to pick a piece of lettuce that was stuck to the collar of his shirt. “Did you happen to get into a fight with a blender this evening?”

“I won’t even start with you on asking what that is,” He said, “I just wanted to have a word with you regarding this evening.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, “And here I wanted to go to bed without an argument beforehand.”

“I’ll keep it brief, I swear.” He was so earnest, even with what looked to be potatoes that coated his hair to droop into his face.

“Alright,” She crossed her arms like she wasn’t about to listen to him anyway. She still wanted some clarification on why he looked like such a mess.

“You deserved to be asked out tonight on a proper date.” Obi-Wan said and Satine suddenly felt like the air in her lungs had been replaced with jelly by some cruel spell and he didn’t stop there, “In a way that made you feel like the beautiful person that you are… With the person you fancy.”

“I- Er- Uh”

“Anything intelligent would be good right now, thank you, Kryze.”

Luckily, he showed no signs of noticing the way her brain stopped producing normal and coherent thoughts.

“And more than anything, I want you to be happy.” He insisted, almost like he was convincing himself and he took her hands in his, “Trust me when I say you weren’t missing much tonight, aside from possibly seeing me get my face dunked in a pie…”

She felt laughter bubble up at that and was relieved for it, because she thought she might pass out soon if she didn’t have the excuse for a dramatic inhale of breath. Her cheeks might pop by how hard she must have been smiling.

His smile was radiant and nervous as he said, “But I promise you… This person you fancy… Feels the same way back.”

It was quite possible the angels were singing and a warm glow of sunshine prematurely hung over them in that moment. Her eyes flickered to his mouth as she stepped closer to him. She’d never seen someone look handsome while covered in casserole, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was an enigma in and of itself.

“Oh, does he?” She was finally able to say and could have patted herself on the back right then and there for not making it sound like a little chipmunk squeak. It definitely ran the risk of doing so by how little oxygen her brain was getting right now.

“He does.” His mouth twitched and if she wasn’t so busy buzzing off the shock that rattled through her from how unexpected this confession was, she would have thought he looked a bit green. Then again, he was never great with handling his feelings.

“Is he going to do anything about it?” She asked after a long beat of Obi-Wan searching her face with his calculating eyes.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?” He said, “I think he’s probably a bit intimidated.”

“There’s absolutely no reason for that.” She said, “He can tell me anything.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad for that.” Obi-Wan said, “You should tell him.”

“Alright then,” She took a deep breath and squeezed his hands in an attempt to both center her courage and tamper down the butterflies in her stomach, “Ben, I-”

“Oh, Satine, you forgot your quill in the library!” Fenn Rau trotted up the stairs behind her and she swore, pacifism be damned, that she almost shoved him backwards. They shared a laugh or two this evening, but had drawled on and on to the point where her eyes felt they might droop shut earlier. On top of that, he did have the awful tendency to pop up at the worst of times.

“Ah, Rau, brilliant.” Obi-Wan didn’t seem as enthusiastic as his words tried to make him out to be, “Satine wanted to talk to you about something.”

Satine shot back around to Obi-Wan, eyes wide in shock, “I what?”

“You know, what we were just discussing.” He said, “Literally three seconds-”

“-I wasn’t- You weren’t- He is not-” And just like that, Satine’s brain stuttered back into the present and realized what had unfortunately been going on.

“Are you alright?” Poor Rau, who never asked for any of this, was looking at Satine like she was having a stroke. Then again, she very well might be.

“She was fine a moment ago.” Obi-Wan placed a warm hand on Satine’s arm, which would normally be a very comforting gesture. Except right now, it felt sweltering under the circumstances.

Where there had once been the sweet and soft sensation of what she’d hoped to be verbalized mutual affection, there was now the fervid storm that was just how stupid they both were at the same time.

Him, for failing to use that brilliant mind of his for anything outside of reading a book and her for ever believing that it would be that easy.

“What is it?” Fenn asked.

She knew that because of Obi-Wan’s idiocy, she had to say something, but she was having a difficult time wrapping her head around anything except for the fact that after all of this time, Obi-Wan was under the impression that she fancied Fenn Rau somehow.

“I’d like to switch patrol times.” She spat, “I fear if I have to look at him in the morning I might just turn him sunny-side up.”

“Er… Alright.” Fenn said slowly, but likely more because he was a bit nervous to say anything else. Because one boy in this room had to have a little bit of sense, he slithered away from them to finish whatever was obviously going on. She only wished Obi-Wan exercised that sort of intuition every once in a while.

After the door shut behind him, Obi-Wan turned to her with a frown.

“What was that?”

She pointed a finger at him, anger spewing out every which way, “That was you being an absolute moron!”

“Satine!” He called after her as she shoved past him towards the staircase, “I was only trying to help you get a bloody date!”

“I didn’t want a bloody date!” She fired back, venom pumping heavily through her veins. Oh, if only softer words came as easily, “I wanted you to stop being a fool and it seems that is a lost cause of a wish, now isn’t it?”

“I resent that!” He countered, “You’re the one who’s been snapping off at me like I’m supposed to be a mind-reader! I saw the two of you together and I know he likes you. What else was I to think?”

“That if I were ever given the choice between you and anyone else in the entire cosmic universe, I would always always choose you. Even when you’re being positively ridiculous and have unsavory food in your hair and on your clothes. There’s not even a competition as far as I’m concerned. I just want you to know that.”

“That I shouldn’t have to spell everything out for you!” She argued, “That he’s not my type, I don’t know! You’re just supposed to know! Not pawn me off to the first person that expresses interest.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He said with a lot less fire than before, “I’m sorry.”

She sighed through her nose, finding it difficult to be mad at him when he was looking up at her with sad eyes like that. “It’s alright.”

He slowly traversed up the steps to meet her and then stand over her in height, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I know.” She said quietly. “Did you want it to be him?”

“Heavens, no.” He blurted out and then coughed, “I’m not sure who I would have liked it to be, though.”

She almost wanted to shake him to get him to process that thought just a little more and he reached out and hesitantly took her hand, “But whoever he is, he’s quite lucky.”

“You’re still an idiot.” She said, meaning it quite thoroughly.

“I know.” He said just as gently, “But I’d like to think I’m your idiot.”

Yes, indeed. And Satine was too for her treasonous heart’s increase in pace at his quiet words. They hadn’t been the ones she’d wanted, but they would do.

***

Cody shoved his things into his duffle bag. He never necessitated bringing that much home for Christmas break. He didn’t see why he would need to. He had some winter clothes at home and most of what he would be doing consisted of playing outside anyway. Underwear, socks, toiletries, and his winter outerwear would more than do.

And of course, all of his Quidditch stuff, which admittedly tended to provide a bit of weight, much to the prefects’ verbal complaints when they got stuck with luggage duty. Another large part of his exit duties was to ensure his brothers were ready to go. His father would have his head if he didn’t make sure the other boys were well-prepared.

The twins were mostly attune to this routine by now and despite their tendencies of playing around, knew better than to test the formidable stoicism of Jango Fett. It wasn’t like Rex was keen on being a bugger, but he was still a little guy and often unprepared for leaving, no matter how many times Cody asked him if he’d started packing.

“Why do you get to pack last minute and I don’t?” He complained.

“Because I’ve got it down to a science and you forgot to bring socks home last year,” Cody said plainly, “You’re lucky we all had hand-me-downs ready to go.”

In all fairness, growing up the youngest of seven likely resulted in Rex never being short on hand-me-downs.

“We’re wizards, I could have just washed them.” He said.

“Muggles can wash their clothes too, mate.”

“Don’t act like you know how.” He complained as he dejectedly sat back on his bunk. Cody had already inspected his littlest brother’s bag and approved that he’d packed everything necessary, but his forlorn expression was towards the already made up bunk across from him.

Rex was still quite cross about his falling out with Skywalker, of which the boy absolutely refused to budge on speaking about. He claimed he was fine and better off without him, but Cody caught him more than once pulling out the issues of comic books that Anakin had given him the previous year.

A couple weeks off would do the boy some good, clear his head and all that. Cody, meanwhile, was just looking forward to having time outside of classes to scramble up a strategy for the back half of the year. So, their team hadn't gotten off on the show stopping start that he’d wished for them. A little bit of stakes was good for any team. They were very much still in the game and so long as Maul or any creepy possessions didn’t cancel the season, they had nothing to fear.

“Alright, well, I’m heading down to the train. Are you coming?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m coming. I’ll wait for the twins.”

“Right, well don’t wait up,” Cody snorted as he looked over to Echo and Fives as they were debating which pranks from Zonko’s to bring home and more importantly, which to unleash on their older brothers first.

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Rex puffed out his chest.

“Good man,” Cody smiled.

The boy needed some more confidence and Cody learned by now that it was no good in taking him down right now, even in a joking matter.

He clapped the shoulders of a few of his teammates on his way down and out the Gryffindor common room, his trunks floating aimlessly behind him as he went. Many other students did the same as he entered the chaos that was the hallway outside of Gryffindor’s entrance. Prefects led and escorted younger students, reminding them to also bring the necessities home.

He perked up when he caught a glimpse of Kenobi’s pristine head, who was just finishing a side conversation with Bail Organa. It seemed the two were trading notes of some kind.

“What’d you get stuck with this time?” He asked.

Kenobi sighed and looked down to his clipboard, “I’m to count heads once aboard the train.”

“Right on, you’ll be along soon then.” He said.

“Hopefully,” He shrugged, “Everyone’s running around like it’s a madhouse today. Not sure why everything feels different.” He leaned in, “Between you and me, I awoke with a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

Cody snorted, “Probably lingering food poisoning from that rich food from the banquet.”

“I mean it, Cody,” He said seriously, “Bail said no one in his house slept very well last night.”

Cody scratched the back of his neck, “Well, that’s pretty unusual for the Hufflepuffs. What do they have to worry about? Not like they’re concerned about winning the House Cup.”

“It’s just uneasy that all of the students will be free from Hogwarts protective barriers for the first time since Maul released himself.” He sighed heavily, clearly trying to convince himself, “That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, I reckon Maul is trying to hide deep in the mountains or something, away from people that are going to catch him,” Cody waved him off, “You just need some fresh air.”

“You look green,” Fenn Rau approached them unannounced and while Cody didn’t have nearly the same level of beef with the fifth year, he also didn’t appreciate his unprecedented arrivals in the middle of private conversations.

“Thanks,” Kenobi frowned.

“Satine must have really let you have it last night, huh?” He smirked, which made Kenobi look like he would take great pleasure in smacking the smugness from his face. Kenobi was a great deal more cordial than Cody, though.

Unfortunately, Cody was merely just flabbergasted at what he could possibly be talking about.

“What happened last night?” Cody asked Kenobi, whose face went a shade pink.

“Just a bit of a misunderstanding,” He shrugged and Cody knew by now not to take his casual aplomb so literally.

“Oh, you should have seen it!” Rau laughed, “Satine looked like she wanted to mess him up! If she wasn’t so committed to her stance against any form of violence, I’d say she would have! Prefect status be damned!”

Wow, that must have been quite the fight for them to be so caught up that they didn’t stop on Rau’s behalf. Cody would need details later.

“I’ll have you know, everything is perfectly fine. Don’t you worry,” Kenobi said tightly and looked back down to his clipboard, “Don’t you have guard duty with Zeb?”

Rau blew a breath out through his nose, “Yeah, I just hope he doesn’t still have such awful gas. I don’t know who thought it fit to give him leftovers, but it was cruel.”

When Kenobi smiled a bit at the fifth year Ravenclaw’s departure, Cody nearly fell over in a fit of laughter.

“Maybe you should have been a Slytherin!” He smacked his arm.

Kenobi fully broke his pristine facade for a moment, offering him a grin, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

***

“Need help with that?” Professor Fisto asked as Anakin struggled to drag his suitcase behind him. Normally, his stuff wouldn’t be so heavy, but Cody had insisted they practice over break and that meant bringing equipment home. His mother was going to kill him when this weighed down the trunk of her car.

“Yes sir,” He nodded eagerly as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor easily plucked the bag up and carried it by the handle. They walked in tandem down the winding path that led them towards the Hogsmeade station. A few giggling girls were not far behind them, likely not in awe of Anakin.

He looked up at the aquatic professor in scrutinization. He was, no doubt, a great professor and taught them more dueling tactics than Anakin could count, but he really didn’t see why they all drooled over him.

“Where do you live?” He asked.

“I’m from the coast.” Professor Fisto smiled, “I do look forward to dipping my toes in some real water.”

“Do you live underwater?” He supposed a lake didn’t count, but then again, Anakin did prefer swimming in the ocean.

“People like me kind of have to,” He smiled, “Aside from wizarding settlements, muggles might have some questions when looking at me unless I’m in disguise.”

“Living in disguise would be pretty hard,” Anakin nodded, “I don’t get why everything needs to be so divided.”

“Blood-torn history,” When he shook his head, his long green tentacles wiggled and shifted on their own accord, “I hope that someday we can find mutual peace. I don’t think I’m alone in that hope either.”

“You want peace?” He raised an eyebrow, “But you’re the one who started the dueling club!”

“To teach you to protect yourself,” Kit Fisto said, “I’d prefer diplomatic negotiations towards a fight any day, but that isn’t how the world works right now. They say you’re going to be the one to set it right.”

“I don’t see how,” Anakin admitted. Talking to Kit Fisto was surprisingly easy, considering they didn’t know each other that well outside of class. Anakin had a good grade in DADA and was top of his tier in the dueling club and up until now, that seemed more than enough.

“You’ll have help,” Fisto nodded, “Everyone needs it.”

“Even bad guys?” He asked.

“Bad guys think they don’t need help, which is part of their weaknesses that can be exploited.”

“Some people think Maul had help back in the day, but I don’t know much about that,” Anakin shrugged and glanced towards the Shrieking Shack. It had a different connotation now that he understood it was Maul who committed that awful murder there that Rex had referenced previously.

“Maybe he did, but he’s on his own now,” Fisto shrugged, “Evil, like the Sith, don’t flourish with teamwork. They always get too big for their britches in my experience. That’s why grouping together to fight is the best laid plan we could have. To combat an evil like Maul, for instance, it’s going to take an army.”

Anakin hoped that’s all it took.

***

Winter break had crept up on her this year. With the dementors still lurking on the premises and the threat of Maul and Dooku looming over them, the holidays just didn’t feel the same. Satine had been tasked with roll call of every fourth year and Obi-Wan, who was working beside her, was in charge of the fifth years. They worked steadily beside one another until every single student had been boarded onto the Hogwarts express.

“I’m only missing Rau,” He tilted his head, scrutinizing his list, “He should still be with Zeb guarding the first car.”

“I’m missing someone...” Satine was running through her list again, double, triple checking before she raised her hand waving over Professor Qui-Gon who looked at her very concerned to have been needed, “Bultar Swan’s not here,” She handed her list to their professor who frowned.

“Obi-Wan?” He asked, tucking her list under his arm, “Are you finished?” He nodded and handed over his as well, “Alright, the two of you need to get on the train, I’ll check this out.”

He waved them off. Obi-Wan watched him walk away with a glimmer of sadness in his eyes, but when Satine touched his shoulder, he shook her off with a smile.

“After you,” He bowed at her gesturing for her to get on the train which she did happily.

“Such a gentleman,” She joked, leading them towards their usual cabin.

Things were much more strict this year, that much she could tell as she settled into her seat across from Cody. The train wouldn’t leave until everyone was accounted for, which perhaps made more sense than just making everyone who missed the train stay at school for the holidays. They weren’t allowing many students to stay this year, only those who made a case to the Headmaster himself, which were few and far between. She supposed the threat was just too big.

“You’re going to Qui-Gon’s ‘unofficial’ holiday party aren’t you?” Obi-Wan’s voice shook her out of her thoughts and she turned to look at him. Why was he asking her that? Did that mean he wanted to see her? She mentally chastised herself. Of course he’d want to see her, and Cody. Anything was likely better than spending more time in that house of his, though the thought did make her heart hurt.

“I am,” She confirmed, “Are you?”

He nodded, “I’ll find a way.”

“Cody?” She broke away from staring into Obi-Wan’s grey-blue eyes that always looked just a little melancholic when they sat together on the train.

“Of course!” He perked up, “Free food and a party! The Fett boys love a good time.”

They were interrupted by Professor Kit Fisto, who popped his head into his compartment, marked them down on his list and then with an apologetic smile closed their door. He needn’t explain, Yoda had warned them that morning that there was to be no moving about the train, their doors were magically locked and would only open in an emergency. In little time at all, the train whistle blew and she felt the lurch as it pulled out of the station. Her thoughts felt lighter as she realized they must have found the elusive Bultar Swan. She had likely just slipped through Satine’s fingers.

***

“Send the train,” Windu had instructed even over Qui-Gon’s rather loud objection.

“Mace we’re still missing a fourth year-” He had called, but once the train started there was really no stopping it.

“We’ll find her,” Windu nodded towards the castle, “We can take her home through the Floo Network, but there’s no use halting the train any longer for one student,” Qui-Gon didn’t look like he much agreed, but he could do nothing else to protest so instead he just looked down at Satine’s careful handwriting.

“Well, let’s get a move on then,” Qui-Gon turned towards Hogsmeade, they had a bit of a walk back to the castle gates. A walk that Windu spent searching for any traces of a possible kidnapping. He doubted Ms. Swan was valuable to the likes of Dooku or Maul, but then again, he was hardly sure what they wanted with Mr. Skywalker. Prophecy or not they chose quite a handful of a student to go after.

He found nothing amiss, not even a broken stick, by the time they entered into the castle, the large doors slamming shut behind them. Wordlessly both he and Qui-Gon took out their wands and latched the door shut. There would be no need to open them again any time soon.

“Headmaster Yoda,” Qui-Gon greeted and sure enough when Mace turned around he was greeted with the sight of his old friend. Yoda hadn’t been standing there before and never moved very quickly, yet always seemed to appear places where Mace felt he should have heard him coming. If apparition wasn’t forbidden in the school, he would have blamed such a feat on that.

“Back so soon, you are?” He questioned and Qui-Gon frowned.

“We’re missing a student,” Qui-Gon seemed not to know when such things should be kept on the down low. Mace crossed his arms already looking to see if anyone had overheard. Yoda frowned, a grave sort of expression crossing his face.

“Find this student, we will.”

Mace knew that Yoda was under immense outside pressure. The Kenobi’s had of course let their anger with the Headmaster show at the conferences, but they weren’t the only family to express several grievances and concerns.

“We will,” Mace repeated as he nodded to both the Headmaster and Qui-Gon before turning and heading off to check the dungeons.

Qui-Gon would check the Ravenclaw common room and the Headmaster would likely check amongst the students. Mace had to frown when he remembered that because of the tunnels, there was much more ground to cover and she could even be in another common room with her friends. With that thought in mind he paused in front of a rather unassuming wall.

Pressing his hand to the wall he muttered a quiet, “Sneezewort,” before the wall practically sucked him inside. It was an unwelcome feeling and he wasn’t sure how the Slytherin’s had become immune to the way the stones scraped against their skin as they phased through. Perhaps they hadn’t.

The inside of the common room glowed green from the light filtering down through the lake's surface. He was greeted with a couple very confused looking Slytherins. A third year boy who had been watching a few of the aquatic residents swim around and a 7th year girl with a few books spread out before her. Both stared up at him as if they were waiting to get in trouble. When he did nothing, but march to check the boys dormitory, the girl stood up.

“What mysterious thing are you looking for now?” She huffed. Mace turned back towards her. She had her arms crossed and was looking up at him in annoyance, “You think we have Maul locked up down here or something?”

He shouldn’t be so surprised, of course the students were on edge, especially the older students. School hadn’t been as chaotic and dangerous before last year, certainly the extra stress was getting to the older students, especially the seventh years trying to take their NEWT exams.

“I’m looking for a student,” Mace decided not to give her the full details, lest Ms. Swan was trying to hide from them, “Would you check the girls' dormitories for me?” The seventh year straightened, she looked appreciative to have been given such a task. With a nod she hurried up the stairs.

Neither of them ended up finding anyone else and Mace left their common room without another word. The rest of the dungeons were just as boring as they usually were. He barely even looked in Palpatine’s office, there certainly seemed no where for anyone to hide in there unless they curled up under the desk or managed to fit in the chest in the corner.

As he ascended the stairs, of course he nearly ran right into a first year Ravenclaw girl who looked particularly upset. She looked surprised to see him, looking up at him with the wide eyes of a child before she stuck a finger out, pointing towards the far end of the school.

“The Headmaster and Professor Qui-Gon are looking for you,” She let him know with a head nod, “No one can enter Ravenclaw tower.”

***

The train hissed into the station and students piled out chatting amicably with one another. Despite the rather dangerous nature that the year had begun with, the holidays seemed to have lifted spirits well enough. Or perhaps, Anakin considered, it was once again being with your family.

Anakin felt a little out of place just standing in a sea of students trying to stand on his tippy toes to see over their heads. He managed to pick out Hevy in the crowd, and his heart panged. Rex was still rather angry with him, Anakin hadn’t sat with him on the train. He’d actually ended up stuck between Miraj Scintel and Asajj Ventress in a compartment full of Slytherins. It hadn’t been his favorite company to keep. Especially since none of them seemed particularly interested in the Christmas cartoons he was hoping to catch on TV.

He tripped and nearly fell into what seemed to be the eye of the storm. Students still pushed and shoved all around them, but all were avoiding this particular space.

“Oh Anakin,” He recognized the voice and sure enough when he looked up he was looking into the eyes of Obi-Wan’s mother. She was smiling down at him as if pleased he’d landed in her presence. Obi-Wan was standing a little behind her and although he was standing at attention his eyes seemed to hold a lecture that Anakin was grateful he couldn’t deliver at the moment, “How wonderful it is to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you again too, ma’am,” He nodded at her, but tried to look behind her for a hint of the woman he really wanted to see.

“Lost?” Obi-Wan’s mum looked concerned and even Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask him, but Anakin shook his head.

“Nope! I’m just looking for my mum,” He assured them, “She said she’d pick me up at the station, but I wouldn’t put it past that sleazebag Watto to make her late.”

“Late for picking up her own son though,” Obi-Wan’s mother tsked as she looked at him, “Perhaps we could accompany you home?”

“Mother-” Obi-Wan didn’t seem to agree, but a glance from his mother was enough to get him to stand down it seemed.

“No that’s ok,” Anakin shook his head, “She’ll be here, I just have to be patient,” He grinned, “I’m sure Obi-Wan knows that’s not my best skill, but as the Chosen One, I’m sure I can handle it.”

His mentor seemed to disapprove of his joke, but it made Mrs. Kenobi laugh so he guessed it wasn’t too bad, “If you’re sure. We could always take you back to our place.”

“No thanks,” Anakin had to admit, the offer was tempting. He was curious to where Obi-Wan lived especially since his family had quite a bit of money, but he was far too eager to get back to his own abode, “Thanks for the broomstick by the way, it flies great!” He’d sent a thank you note already, but his mum always said doing things in person looked better.

“Glad to hear it-” She was likely going to continue their conversation, but Anakin caught a glimpse of wispy brown hair.

“I think I see her!” He pointed over the crowd, “Got to go, bye!”

He dipped and dodged through the crowd again before finally reaching her.

“Mum!” But the women who turned had a rounder face and deep green eyes. Anakin nearly tripped over his feet, as to not run into her, “Oh.”

That certainly wasn’t his mother.

***

Qui-Gon was pondering.

A difficult feat as the raven door knocker was spewing riddles faster than anyone could answer them. Such noise made it hard to think at all. Headmaster Yoda was doing little to help reign in control, he simply answered riddles that had been asked nearly 5 minutes prior. It wasn’t getting them anywhere.

“Mace,” Qui-Gon heard the other man’s footsteps before he saw him. Gryffindor’s Head of House seemed just as confused as he was.

“What’s all this?” Mace questioned inspecting the brass knocker before raising an eyebrow at Qui-Gon.

“I was hoping you would know,” He answered with a sigh, “It was like this when I got here. Must have been some kind of spell.”

Mace frowned, “Not one I know. It would have to be fairly powerful to break such an artifact,” That much Qui-Gon had already known.

“Do away with the door, we could,” Yoda suggested, but Qui-Gon jumped between the Headmaster’s wand and the door.

“There must be another way,” Qui-Gon grimaced, he really didn’t want to have to find a fair replacement for his house. Such lines of thinking reminded him of the tunnels. There weren’t any leading to Ravenclaw house of course, but tunnels were not the only way for wizards to get around, “The fireplace!” He shouted suddenly enough to scare off a stray Hufflepuff from the area.

“Are our fireplaces within the Floo network?” Mace questioned looking towards the Headmaster who shook his head.

“Officially, they are not,” He put a small hand to his chin, “However locally, hmmmm.”

“My office is closest,” Qui-Gon recommended and hurried off with Mace and the Headmaster following behind.

***

Mace had to admit, this was a rather clever idea. Qui-Gon was consistently proving himself as both a Ravenclaw and the best choice for their Head of House. Still the man was notoriously messy and Mace nearly tripped over a stack of philosophy books piled just high enough to not be noticeable at first. It was a far cry from Mace’s rather organized and clean office. Despite these barriers, Qui-Gon never seemed to lose anything. In fact he pulled his pot of Floo powder out from under a pillow as if it had always been there. Mace quite doubted that was the case.

Qui-Gon was about to thrust his hand into the powder when Mace held out his hand to stop him.

“Wait,” Mace gestured for the man to pass him the jar which he did with a rather skeptical look, “We don’t know if we’re going to be trapped on the inside and the school certainly can’t be down 3 caretakers,” Both Qui-Gon and Yoda exchanged hesitant looks. Mace was glad that he had been with them, if he hadn’t the other two may have gotten themselves trapped within the common room for hours before someone would have noticed.

“I’ll go,” Qui-Gon suggested, “It is my house after all.”

“Admirable,” Mace nodded, but refused to hand back the jar to Qui-Gon, “I have more experience however,” Qui-Gon gave him a foul look, Mace paid him no mind, “I’ll go, if the girl is there I’ll find her.”

“Wait on the other side of the door, I shall,” Headmaster Yoda decided with a nod, “Meet Professor Windu when he is done searching I will.”

“So what? I’m just supposed to wait here?” Qui-Gon frowned at Mace’s nod of affirmation, “And what is the point in that?”

“You never know,” Mace frowned, “Opening up a Floo network, even within the school could make us vulnerable for attack, someone should monitor it,” He wasn’t really sure if it would or not, but he felt they couldn’t be too safe. They’d already found a fatal flaw when Skywalker had been able to previously use Dooku’s fireplace to attempt traversing to Hogsmeade.

“Alright fine,” Qui-Gon relented, stepping aside, “We’ll do it your way, but do be swift, Ms. Swan may not even be up there.”

“I’m not the type to doddle, Jinn,” Mace reminded him as he stepped into the fireplace.

“Ravenclaw Common Room.”

The world bended and stretched. Qui-Gon’s office was replaced with bricks and entryways of several different choices, but thankfully the common room was a relatively short trip. If there hadn’t been for such odd circumstances, this would be considered a rather lazy move even by wizarding standards.

He stepped out of the fireplace and the blue and silver of the common room came into focus past the green of the fire and he looked around for anything out of place or odd. He fingered his wand, not eager to draw it, lest a student would be at the other end, but he certainly didn’t want to leave himself unguarded from attack. It was the sort of thinking one didn’t unlearn even after leaving the aurors.

Nothing so much as swayed in the breeze however so he let himself relax just a touch. He wasn’t in Ravenclaw’s common room much, but he knew which book to look for on the shelf to reveal the girl’s dormitory. He’d check there first as it was more likely that she had simply run up to grab something and gotten locked inside.

The bookshelf creaked softly as it bowed to the side to admit him. There was no one on the stairs and no one made an appearance even as he tried stepping loudly enough to give away his presence.

“Hello?” He called, his students should easily recognize his voice, they heard it at least twice a week.

There was no response. It felt almost too silent and his fingers brushed against his wand once more. Well if no one was around, it wouldn’t hurt to draw it. Pointing his wand low in case he did encounter a rogue student, he pushed the door open to the 4th year girl’s dorm slowly.

At the far side of the room, facing away from him was Bultar Swan, but she didn’t make any movements at his entry.

“Ms. Swan,” Mace called, stepping carefully across the room. Still she didn’t move so he put a gentle hand on her shoulder before rapidly pulling away.

It was a cool sensation rather than a warm one that had him ripping his hand away from the lost girl. Now that he was close enough he could see an unnatural sheen across her skin. As he walked around her his heart seemed to freeze just like the expression of shock and terror engraved on the girl’s face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open like she was going to scream. Her hands were going for her wand, but she hadn’t made it in time. It seemed that neither had he.

***

The streets of London were rather busy as the sun lowered in the sky. It was likely rush hour and Anakin was just trying to get home. He’d let Artoo out to fly on his own, it was one less thing to carry and he already had his massive trunk he was dragging behind him.

He’d waited at the station until even the train had disappeared and he was starting to wish he’d taken the Kenobi’s up on their offer, even if Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed to like the idea. It would certainly beat carrying everything. He bet that a family like the Kenobi’s had a big broom or a lot of Floo powder. Or maybe they could have even apparated him there. He knew Obi-Wan was in a special class for it and he assumed nearly every witch or wizard got their license out of convenience.

If he hadn’t been in a fight with Rex he supposed the clones would have helped him out. They had lingered at the station for an awfully long time before finally departing. He thought he’d felt eyes on him, but every time he looked over they were busy wrestling with each other or talking too loudly. Anakin felt quite a lot of envy towards their antics. He missed Rex more than he’d admit.

At least he’d finally made it to his street. He could see the sign for Watto’s seedy pub and he would have made a run for it to show that greedy bastard where he could shove it the next time he made his mum work a shift when she had other, more important plans, but his luggage was holding him back. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the smell of stale booze and grease. It would have been pretty disgusting if it wasn’t a little nostalgic. As much as he despised the likes of Watto and the way his mum had to break her back just to afford the rent for their apartment, it was still home.

“Oh if it isn’t little Ani!” Watto crowed nearly knocking over one of his waitresses, “Tell your mum rent’s due.”

“When is it not due,” Anakin muttered under his breath before speaking loud enough for the owner to hear him over the din of patrons, “Have you seen her? She was supposed to come pick me up,” He made sure to say it in an accusatory tone even if such things were lost on the man.

“Eh, not today, grab the spare and go on up,” He shrugged, “Maybe she forgot.”

“Not likely,” Anakin whispered as he pushed past him. It was much more likely that she’d fallen asleep, Watto never had her working consistent hours and often she worked more than she was home. It wouldn’t be completely out of the question for her to have slept through an alarm. Still it was the first time she hadn’t shown up for him and he did feel a twinge of sadness at the thought.

Anakin snatched the spare key to their apartment off the pegboard in Watto’s smelly office before dragging his suitcase up the stairs. He had to use two hands since he couldn’t use magic and had no one else to help him. He was certain that if he had asked the owner he would have just gotten laughed at. He didn’t want his stupid help anyways.

He knocked on the door first, “Hello? Mum? It’s me! Anakin!” When there wasn’t any response, Anakin fumbled with the key until he felt the tumblers in the lock click. He pushed the door open and hesitated.

The air felt… stale.

Not eager to step inside, he called out again.

“Mum! You forgot to come to the train station! It’s okay though, I’m not mad!”

There was no response.

Anakin felt his throat tighten and his heart pick up. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, he wasn’t really supposed to use magic except for studying, but he doubted such rules would really stop him.

He took a deep breath before stepping inside. The door creaked shut behind him.

The first thing he noticed was their dining room chairs strewn across the floor. That was pretty weird because Anakin always got in trouble for not pushing them in when he was done. He rationalized that sometimes his mother got to do things he wasn’t allowed too, maybe she didn’t always have to replace the chairs. He stepped into the kitchen, nothing else seemed out of place, but when he opened the fridge he nearly vomited at the smell.

Sour milk.

His mother was always really good at getting fresh groceries, but maybe she’d just forgotten, it had happened once before.

“Mum! The milk’s gone bad!” He called again and strained his ears for an answer.

Silence.

He swallowed past a lump steadily growing in his throat. Was this some sort of joke? He hoped not, because it really wasn’t very funny.

There was nothing amiss in the living room, but also, no sign of his mum. He didn’t bother checking in his own room, as she was rarely in there. She always said she wasn’t very interested in his comics, but she was a good mum and listened to him talk about them anyways. He felt his eyes water, it must be a little dusty.

He knocked on his mother’s bedroom door, certainly not wanting to enter without notifying her; she always said it was always good to be polite. With no answer though he had no choice but to push the door open.

Feathers.

There were feathers everywhere. It was like the pillows had exploded and it coated the room. He stepped on inside and nearly tripped over a fallen book. That book only fell off the shelf when he opened the door too quickly. His mother knew that and he knew that, so why had it fallen?

Unless someone else was there. Had been there.

“If someone’s in here! Come out!” He managed to shout, clutching his wand like a lifeline and trying to think of a few dueling spells Professor Fisto had drilled into them. He supposed a good stupify would work. He’d have to explain it to the school, but it would save him and his mother.

Not so much as a feather moved and Anakin tried to calm his racing heart enough that he could hear something beyond the rushing of blood through his ears. He picked his way across the floor. What if his mother was here, but hurt? He certainly didn’t want to see that, but if she was, he would have to help her. Maybe he should have tried to learn some healing spells. He’d ask Madame Nema after this all got sorted out.

He peaked quickly over the side of her bed and was almost relieved when he saw nothing. He checked under the bed in case anyone was hiding under there, but saw nothing, but dust and feathers.

He walked over to check the bathroom and something crunched underfoot. Kneeling down he brushed aside a feather and gasped. A shattered frame, glass scattered across the floor. It was a picture of Anakin, standing proudly in his wizard’s robes. The picture didn’t move, but Anakin sure did- running out the door of his Mum’s bedroom and back into the living room.

She wasn’t here. There was no sign of her and the house didn’t look very lived in. All but the chairs and the bedroom with all the feathers. He felt like he was being watched and kept looking over his shoulder as he nearly shattered another picture frame reaching for the pot holding their small emergency Floo powder. He wanted to leave, but what if his mum did come home? She could walk in at any minute and they could be scared together about the possible house burglary. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to be here alone.

Another thought came to him, he could call using the fireplace. Qui-Gon had taught him and he knew the offices at the castle were connected to the network. He just had to hope the Professor was in his office.

“Coniunctionem,” Anakin’s voice shook as he said the spell, sprinkling the powder into the fireplace. Flames sprung up where there hadn’t been any and Anakin blurted out, “Professor Qui-Gon Jinn's Office!” Before shoving his head into the fireplace.

Anakin nearly jumped when he saw Qui-Gon immediately, already staring into the fire in surprise.

“Anakin!” Words sounded weird through the fire, the tones of Qui-Gon’s voice being translated into crackles and pops of the fire.

“Qui-Gon!” He practically cried, “I need help!” He was the Chosen One, he’d been reminding himself of that all year and he shouldn’t need help. Here, however, he felt helpless, scared, and alone.

And Professor Fisto had just said that everyone needed help sometimes.

“What’s wrong?” The lecture likely on the tip of the Professor’s tongue disappeared instantly and concern took its place.

“It’s my mum! She’s-” He suddenly felt like he couldn’t speak, tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to pour over. He tried to hold them back not wanting to accidentally extinguish the fire, but it was hard. He hadn’t really even acknowledged the truth in the situation and trying to say it out loud felt horrible, “She’s-” He couldn’t say it, even needing Qui-Gon’s help, it was all too sudden.

“Hang on I’ll be right there!” Qui-Gon was already ripping the lid off the jar that held his own Floo powder.

“Go you must,” Anakin hadn’t even noticed Headmaster Yoda, who was standing just in the doorway, “Handle everything else, we will,” Anakin didn’t really care whether or not he’d interrupted something important.

Hogwarts could burn to the ground for all he cared. His mother was missing and that was the only thing he cared about.

***

Qui-Gon held onto the boy’s shoulder as he sobbed uncontrollably while the police, both magical and muggle swarmed the apartment. He’d called the auror’s first of course, but he couldn’t deny that Shmi’s disappearance could be because of muggle means.

The owner of the dirty pub had shrugged and said Shmi hadn’t shown up for her shifts for awhile, but it hadn’t yet caused him financial trouble so he hadn’t worried about it. Anakin had said some less than kind things to the man and Qui-Gon made a note to talk to him about it later, but he supposed it was hard to fault a twelve year old when his whole world had just gotten uprooted.

“Why,” The word was spoken so softly Qui-Gon thought for a moment he may have imagined it.

“Pardon?” He leaned down to be able to hear better.

“Why’d they take her away?” He managed to speak louder, though his voice wobbled and the threat of more tears was not far off, “She never did anything wrong, why her?”

Qui-Gon let out a long breath, that was not an easy question to answer. Not like such questions about where the boy would live. He would stay with Qui-Gon of course. And as for what they should do next, it was a waiting game unfortunately.

It was certainly not the time to mention his earlier suspicions. However, Qui-Gon never would have guessed that this ominous danger would befall Shmi, who was practically disconnected to the wizarding world in total.

“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon admitted, he always found it was best not to lie, not at a time like this, “Sometimes bad things happen to good people-”

“It’s not FAIR!” Anakin stomped his foot on the ground.

“Life isn’t always as fair as it should be,” Qui-Gon knelt down so he could be at eye level with the boy.

“I want her,” He sniffed, tears already falling once more, “I want my mum.”

“I know, I know,” Qui-Gon said solemnly, “But I’ll promise you this,” Anakin looked up through the droplets on his lashes to meet Qui-Gon’s steady stare, “I’ll do everything I can to help find her, ok?” It was a weighty promise, but one that Qui-Gon was willing to make. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to Shmi and he certainly wanted her found for Anakin’s sake.

Anakin managed to give him a nod even as he cried harder at the thought and Qui-Gon pulled him into a hug so he could have a shoulder to cry on, quite literally. No longer looking into the face of a child he felt his face fall into a dejected frown. What was the point of all this? Was it the prophecy? Was it simply an act of villainy? All concerns for his own safety at the hands of the missing necklace went out the window. Anakin’s safety was really his only concern. He had the Chosen One, a young boy, in his care and he would do everything necessary to keep him safe.

***

Despite the bustling holiday cheer that warmed the walls and everything between at Professor Qui-Gon Jinn’s humble abode, Obi-Wan found himself occupying the kitchen more often than not. He knew from experience and constant nagging from his mother that hosting was a complicated and exhausting duty and grew up shouldering part of that burden in order to keep up critical appearances. Of course, the parties his family hosted were nothing like this.

It was more than just the homemade decorations and the physical vibrancy of the room. Yes, the many streams of garland and tapestry were lovely. The lighting was soft, but colorful as it had been donned with twinkling Christmas lights and scented candles that were transfixed to never burn out. Stockings lined the mantle of the fireplace, which was situated right beside a beautiful Christmas tree.

Even from here, he admired Anakin’s work on the tree. He wondered if it was how his mother had done it every year. Judging by how methodical the whole process had been, he would assume so.

It all felt like home in a way his house never did.

The smiles, for one thing, never met their eyes at his parents’ famous shin-digs and there certainly weren’t quite as many children. The only other person his age was usually Asajj Ventress, who was far from his first choice in company. Buoyant holiday music didn’t play from an enchanted piano nor were the eating arrangements as casual as simply helping yourself. His house was usually filled with an eerie classical music that his mother worshipped and had nothing short of a five course meal consisting of exotic foods he’d never heard of.

He couldn’t cook to save his life, but knew many efficient spells at assisting the task. Qui-Gon had it partially covered, of course, because all of the appliances were working at full and seamless speed without an error along the way. Obi-Wan would hastily run stuff out, ensure that everyone was still having a grand time, and then disappear again to continue helping.

It was important for this Christmas to go well. Anakin had just lost his mother and was rightfully very maudlin as of late. Qui-Gon had taken him in and sought to give him a good home, which was wonderful. It was truly fantastic. Obi-Wan, himself, hadn’t seen much of his former mentor at all this term, let alone this evening, but it was more than understandable. He was included just enough to be invited early for his annual Christmas party to help setup.

It was a good idea for Qui-Gon to throw together the last minute-affair and wise all the same to be able to skirt around Headmaster Yoda’s rules in such a way. It didn’t seem most of the professors minded much or maybe they also terribly needed a distraction from current events, because many were in attendance. Of course, the stiffer ones, like Professor Windu, had opted to skip.

It was also a decent distraction from how horribly his Winter Holiday had been going, not that it was anything new. He wasn’t much for lying and knew the repercussions of getting caught, but he’d told his parents he was meeting with Ventress for the evening. They were absolutely ecstatic to hear that and sent him on his way with flowers and all. Technically, Ventress was at the party, so any scrutiny could simply be met with that.

He’d awkwardly given the flowers to Anakin instead, who’d rightfully responded with a weird look.

His parents had been especially cross with him lately when they discovered he was taking the advanced class of Defense Against the Dark Arts against their wishes. They’d nearly elected to lock him in his room for the remainder of break when it came out. Luckily, he was able to save some face by mentioning seeing Ventress at some point.

His family was also surprisingly concerned over Anakin’s home situation as of now. They expressed great distaste for his mother being so cavalier in her choice of guardian for him. Apparently, Obi-Wan’s mother had gone to school with Shmi and felt she was gullible to fall for a silver-tongued cad in the muggle world. They claimed she should have been more careful with the boy, since he was precious beyond measurable worth. It was interesting that Obi-Wan’s alignment with Anakin, which was initially viewed as a foolish errand, was now being heralded by his parents and grandparents.

He released a heavy sigh and picked up another plate.

As he exited the kitchen to bring out another serving of deviled eggs, he took in the sight of the party. Joy and laughter filled the air much to Obi-Wan’s relief. Even Anakin seemed as though he was having a good time. He’d found a good friend in Padmé Amidala and knew it was wise of Qui-Gon to see that she was invited.

The Fett’s were all rough-housing in the living room, displaying some wrestling moves they’d recently learned over break. It was their newest and most recent obsession. He did note that Rex kept glancing towards Anakin every now and then. While Anakin certainly had larger issues at hand, it was apparent that the boys, who no longer seemed to be outwardly fighting, were still not quite on the same level that they once were.

Anakin was practicing catching gumdrops in his mouth, which was likely an ill-advised attempt to impress Padmé in some way. She seemed partially invested and partially concerned he would choke, which was the right amount of attention for the boy.

Professor Plo Koon slow-danced with an inebriated Professor Shaak Ti, who was being photographed by Professor Yaddle, likely for a later laugh or a reminder of the events of the evening. Professor Depa Billaba was chatting with Caleb Dume, but he seemed to be distracted by the gentle snowfall from outside.

All was well.

In his search, he caught Satine’s passing stare. She was currently perched on the couch with a mug of warm butterbeer in her hands and was chatting with Bail Organa and Fenn Rau. Her hair was down in flowing waves that cascaded down to her shoulders. She was trying to grow out her bangs and had them clipped back with a little green barrette that matched the long sleeve dress she wore. Her eyes were warm with mirth and inviting for him to come over. Despite the bubble that seemed to grow in his chest, threatening to pop, his feet remained still. He simply nodded at her with what he hoped was a friendly smile and turned to go back to work.

He was just about to wonder where Qui-Gon had disappeared off to when a large hand was splayed firmly on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Qui-Gon’s deep voice asked.

He was startled, even if he had no real reason to be. It wasn’t as though he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar or anything.

“I’m setting out the food.”

“You’ve been doing that all night.” He said. “You’re working like a servant except nobody asked you to do so.”

“You know how important it is that this party goes well, Professor.” Obi-Wan said and nodded over to Anakin.

“As a matter of fact, I do, actually. I’d say he’s having a nice time too.” Qui-Gon said sagely. “Doesn’t explain why you would think spending your entire night in the kitchen is going to improve his spirits.”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue from remarking how this was the first real conversation they’d had in weeks and that somehow it was layered in criticism. Obi-Wan was used to appraisal and scathing speeches of failure and the tightening noose of expectation, but not from his former mentor.

“Like you said, he’s enjoying himself. That’s what matters.” He said shortly.

“I’d like you to enjoy yourself too every now and then, you know.” Qui-Gon leaned against the counter, but Obi-Wan still had to crane his head to look the larger man in the eyes. “So, what is it you’re actually avoiding?”

Obi-Wan straightened. “I’m not avoiding anything! I’m just-”

“-Distracting yourself from what’s bothering you. I know it when I see it, Obi-Wan. You’ve been one of my pupils for six years now and despite how you may try, even you have tells.” He smirked, “Every time you come out of the kitchen, you do a perimeter scan of the room. Some may take it as a neurotic need for everyone to be safe and accounted for, but I know better.”

“You don’t exactly become Head of Ravenclaw House without knowing better.” Obi-Wan said, though his mind briefly sifted back to the previous Head of Ravenclaw and debated that statement.

“Good, so hear me when I say that you need to live your life.”

He furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve watched you leap through hoop after hoop to please everyone, Obi-Wan and it simply cannot be done. You’re even doing it tonight! The sooner you make your peace with that, the happier you’ll be.”

Obi-Wan inspected the long-haired professor to see if he’d perhaps engaged in too much eggnog this evening.

“I know I can’t please everyone.” He said sharply but maintained his tone so as not to disturb the other guests. “I’ve learned that the hard way, thank you.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes softened. “I never meant to insinuate that it was easy. I know I’ve been busy with Anakin recently and it would be normal for you to feel neglected-”

“-I don’t.” Obi-Wan lied and perhaps the swiftness of his response made that more obvious. He wondered if it really counted as a lie if he didn’t want it to be true. He felt selfish and guilty for feeling the inklings of that. Anakin’s mother was missing! He had no reason to feel like he was the one going through the hard time right now simply because he wasn’t receiving as much attention as before. What bothered him more, was that he somehow made this transparent enough to be seen. He desperately hoped Anakin didn’t notice.

Qui-Gon nodded. “Look at Hondo.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Humor me, please.” He sighed and Obi-Wan obeyed.

Hondo Ohnaka was planted firmly beneath the mistletoe as he had been all night. He called over to just about every living and breathing body at the party to come over and share “the Christmas cheer” with him. Even his bright and sparkly sweater implored people to “meet him at the naughty list”, which blended in with the many counts of jewelry that always draped around his neck and wrists. Some of it, Obi-Wan had to admit, looked quite expensive.

As far as Obi-Wan had seen, Hondo hadn’t had any takers. He could try to have more tact in his approach. Simply going for every single person at the party just didn’t feel in line with the spirit of the holiday. He kept glancing around, looking quite intently at him and Qui-Gon for a long moment before turning rather suddenly to face the other way.

“Hey, baby! I’ve got something sweet for you to taste… And some cookies!” He laughed as he held up a plate of Christmas cookies to Stass Allie as she passed by without giving him any thought.

“I think he needs to call it quits.” Obi-Wan mused.

“Hondo is eccentric and uninhibited… He needs to brush up on his manners and probably shower a bit more… Also, I’m fairly certain he was the one who stole Headmaster Yoda’s quill set.”

“What’s your point?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Hondo lives his life shamelessly. He is who he is. When he sees something he wants, he does everything in his power to make it happen. His execution probably needs a little refinement, but the point is, he takes chances and he’s happier for it.”

“Yeah and he’s doing so well tonight.”

“Maybe not.” Qui-Gon said. “But you can’t win the games you refuse to play.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes seemed to naturally return to Satine, who was now quite heatedly making some point with Tarkin and was being backed by Fenn Rau on some injustice. He doubted she needed the help by how she was reaming into Tarkin. However, Rau seemed eager to assist, much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin.

Even with the knowledge that Satine supposedly wasn’t interested, it still bugged him to some end.

He cleared his throat and turned back to his amused Professor. “That’s why I’m taking DADA this year again. I want to be an auror.”

“And you’ll make a mighty fine one. You came to that conclusion all on your own, eh?”

He hadn’t and they both knew it. There was no use denying it.

“I… Had some help.” Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon smiled and looked out at the party. “So, what are you going to do about that?”

“I’m going to be an auror.” He said with renewed strength.

He tapped the watch on Obi-Wan’s wrist, “I’m talking about tonight.”

He felt his cheeks go red and was irritated when Qui-Gon tilted back his head and laughed so loud that the entire room was drawn to their conversation Eventually, when it subsided, they all turned back to their respective conversations.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! We’re friends!” He hissed.

“She’s not going to wait around forever, my young apprentice. Even if she isn’t sure she’s waiting. Take it from an old fool who knows what it’s like to miss out.”

And with that, he left a very bashful and embarrassed Obi-Wan to his own thoughts again. Hondo tried to call Obi-Wan over, but it was easy to ignore as he was trying desperately to sink into the floor and away from everyone else. He couldn’t believe Qui-Gon thought his friendship with Satine was the equivalent of Hondo trying to kiss practically every person in the room.

They were friends. That was all. He didn’t understand why that had to make their relationship less meaningful.

So, occasionally he felt a little light-headed when she touched his arm or laughed at his jokes. Maybe his gaze lingered on her when she stretched or crinkled her brow in contemplation while they studied together. Sometimes, his hands grew sweaty if hers accidentally brushed against his while they walked. She always smelled wonderful, but he’d only noticed because they were always together!

And just because they were always sitting together or took the same classes and always worked together on projects, did not mean there was anything else going on.

Yes, he trusted her with his life and would surely give his for her in a heartbeat. He might have been slightly miffed whenever Fenn Rau or Tarkin or any of the other boys commented that she was beautiful. She was beautiful, but anyone with eyes could objectively make that conclusion.

And that she was charming and self-reliant. She was utterly brilliant with a wit that crushed his into dust. She was above all else caring to the extent of wishing no harm even to her enemies and wanted peace before anything. She was stubborn and defiant, but also incredibly altruistic and fair. Her humor was the exact same as his and was never afraid to go for the jugular.

Of course he cared for her and noticed how she ran her hands through her hair when she was nervous or how she bit her bottom lip when she was confused. It wasn’t like he fixated on such things… All the time.

He’d be a liar to say there wasn’t tension, but a great deal of that had to do with how often they disagreed! He was getting riled up just thinking of how different his conversation would have been with Qui-Gon if Satine had been there with her disapproval of his family’s ways.

Yet he missed her when she wasn’t around. Her honesty was so rooted in a deep sense of caring that he couldn’t entirely fault her for it. She would never steer him wrong and wanted what was best for him. He knew that in his bones even when they wanted to pounce on each other.

She knew him through and through and cared for him even if he came from a family that would despise her if they knew just how important she was to Obi-Wan.

And, if he was honest, he looked for her at every Quidditch match, every meeting, every get-together, because…

She was his best friend!

Just that.

***

Satine blew softly to ease the steam that permeated from the mug in her hands. She’d unexpectedly traded her butterbeer for hot chocolate when Fenn Rau slid the mug in her hands after she mentioned she wasn’t a big butterbeer fan. The little gingerbread man shaped marshmallows that floated on the surface were enchanted to dance until they melted away into frothy foam.

“You do have an eye for detail.” She commented as she watched one of them disappear into nothing. To Satine’s chagrin, when she looked back up to Fenn, he was standing much closer than he had before. He must have been participating in the ugly sweater contest, because the little cotton balls that were supposed to be snowballs on his blue and red sweater were atrocious.

It had become impossible to ignore the cold truth that was Fenn Rau’s sudden romantic interest in her. In the beginning, she thought he was just looking for a new friend or someone to show him around as a prefect, but then he started to appear everywhere and seemingly intent on impressing her in every way possible. She could have sworn he had recently gotten more competitive with Obi-Wan, which just felt plain silly at the core.

Especially since he basically tried to pawn Satine off to Rau- a reality that she tried not to groan at- the moment he had the opportunity to do so.

She didn’t love having Aayla and Stass’s incessant “I told you so” voices ringing in her ears on repeat, but pretending to be ignorant now was doing far more harm than good. For instance, she didn’t want Rau to be under the impression that she was leading him on. That was something Satine did not want to do.

“I notice everything,” Fenn said with a smile and took another step closer. Soon, if he kept moving as he was, that wouldn’t be possible anymore, and Satine really didn’t want to consider what possibilities lurked after that.

Clearly, not everything.

“Is that so?” She asked innocently, though she had a lurking suspicion that she wasn’t going to be too fond of where this conversation was going.

“Yes,” He nodded and shifted in his stance, clearly trying to keep his cool and appear taller than he was, “Like… How you always carry your books in the order of when you have class or how you aren’t fond of your food touching or how you never wear your hair the same way two days in a row.”

That last one sounded made up to Satine, if only because it was unintentional, but it seemed Fenn couldn’t be stopped even though she desperately wanted him to. In her opinion, this wasn’t the time for this sort of confession. Cody was glancing at her from the piano as though silently asking her if she needed help. Aayla and Stass, who were giggling amongst themselves by the staircase, clearly could also tell what was going on.

“Or how you absolutely despise morning rounds,” Fenn kept going, “Or… Or how there’s no one presently standing under the mistletoe and I couldn’t help but notice that you can’t seem to stop glancing in that direction.”

The last bit came out frantically, like he’d been so nervous that he forgot how to properly speak and breathe at the same time. Because of this, it took a beat for Satine to comprehend what he was insinuating, until it finally felt like a bubble popped between them.

Well, there was no more denying it after that jumbled suggestion.

“Oh! Um, with you?” She glanced back in the direction towards the mistletoe and it seemed Hondo had taken a bathroom break, because it was presently a vacant spot. Had Rau known her like he believed he did, he would have realized that she wasn’t deviating towards the mistletoe, but the array of dishes that lay beyond it and more importantly, who set out those dishes at a dizzying pace and seemed to refuse engaging with the masses.

She’d taken too long to answer, because quickly, Fenn shook his head aggressively, “Not that you have to go under there with me… I mean, it would be nice, but you don’t have to. I haven’t been- It’s not like I’ve been thinking about it all night. It just came to me, as an idea, maybe. If you wanted- I’ve been told I’m a decent snogger. Not that I’ve snogged a lot of girls. Or boys! I’ve never actually snogged a boy, but if I had, I’m sure they would say I’m-”

“-No, no, I’m sure you are decent!” Satine waved her hands out in front of her as though trying to physically stop him from the painful stilted tangent he was trying to constantly start and stop, “But it wouldn’t be right as I would never want to give you the wrong impression.”

“And what would that be?”

Did all boys require such deliberate specifications? Or just the ones in her life?

She sighed, “You’re brilliant, you really are, and I’m sure there’s a girl out there for you, but unfortunately, I don’t believe she’s me.”

Smooth, clean, and to the point. For someone who had spent the better part of this term denying that Rau had these sorts of feelings for her, she sure was relieved to have cleared the air. It was what was best for the both of them.

He blinked, “Is it someone else?”

“I’m sure.” She said kindly, “Frankly, there are lots of girls who-”

“-No, I mean, do you fancy someone else?” He corrected.

“Well,” She had to tamper down the indignant side of her that wanted to explain that there didn’t need to be anyone else for her not to return his affections, but she was momentarily distracted by Obi-Wan walking from the kitchen with far too many plates balanced in his hands. They wobbled back and forth in tandem with how he moved before meeting an unseemly and cacophonous end as they shattered against the hardwood floor.

Fenn, like everyone else, turned towards the commotion, but looked back at her with a sort of sad understanding that she hadn’t noticed at first, seeing as she was a bit caught up in how quickly Obi-Wan had whipped out his wand and gathered all the missing pieces and reassembled the plates.

“I see,” He cleared his throat and she gave him a curious look after Obi-Wan disappeared into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry?” She frowned.

“It’s alright,” He said, “I won’t stand in the way.”

“What are you-”

“-I think it’s a little less insulting to not further deny it.” He said tartly, but not completely absent of compassion, “He’s a lucky bloke, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

Satine had to swallow the rising bitterness that was definitely her pride for being seen so thoroughly, “Truly an eye for detail.”

He quirked a small smile at that, “I don’t know if it takes an eagle eye to notice that.”

“Still,” She shrugged weakly, “I’m sorry.”

He raised a hand, “You’ve nothing to apologize for. Trust me when I say I hope it works out for you two. Though if you ever change your mind…”

“You’ll be someone’s first choice someday, Fenn.” She gave his hand a squeeze, “I’m sure of it.”

Despite it not working out how Fenn Rau thought, Satine couldn’t help but internally thank him for what transpired. She learned that maybe, she needed to take more risks.

***

One thing about being a wizard was that it wasn’t completely necessary to learn musical instruments, much to Anakin’s amusement. Some people still did, as Qui-Gon demonstrated for everyone, but others just merely enchanted the piano to play whatever they pleased.

His mum would quite enjoy that. She always loved classical Christmas music.

As another wave of sadness rose through his senses and nearly gave way of seeping out of every pore, he stamped it down in determination not to cry in front of everyone at the party. It was bad enough that it felt like every person that came up to him was trying to perform some sort of circus act to distract him, but he didn’t want to deal with the explanation.

It was a party and while he felt like the center of it, it was designed to be fun for everyone. It wouldn’t bring his mum back to him, but the thought had to count for something. Padmé had been sweet enough to check on him a good bit, especially when she could have been spending time with her friends or with Satine, who looked like she’d rather be anywhere but with Fenn Rau.

Anakin might have been more excited about it a mere two weeks ago, but despite the beautiful colors, everything seemed to be painted in gray.

Even Hondo seemed to lack some of his luster when he returned from the loo, wearing a stern sort of melancholy that reminded Anakin of Watto when he suffered severe indigestion after an awful meal. Anakin had at least been expecting him to try and pawn off some more merchandise opportunities on him, but it seemed even he got the holiday blues every now and then.

“Not making enough sales this year?” Anakin couldn’t help but ask, because really, if anyone had the right to be upset this Christmas, it was him.

Hondo, as if realizing he was still at the party at all, shook his head, “Oh, er- never! Hondo knows how to push his product beyond anything. I assure you, you will see that 15% very soon and it will be chunky!”

Anakin narrowed his eyes, “My mum just went missing and you’re trying to slate me 5% of my profits?”

It wasn’t about the money, but it was worth mentioning.

Hondo’s big brown eyes widened beneath his goggles, which were beyond unnecessary in their current setting, even if it did snow an ample amount the night before. “Did I say 15%? I meant 20%! Silly me! I forgot to mention your holiday bonus.”

“It’s not like I’ll be able to spend that money on anyone.” He sighed and crossed his arms, “I was going to get my mum a new history book so she could catch up on everything she missed in the wizarding world. Word on the street is I’m actually in it.”

“I’m sure you are! What were they paying you?” Hondo asked and he was seeming a bit more like himself by the moment.

“Not everything is about galleons, you know.” Anakin said pointedly.

“That is what the rich people want you to think, Skywalker.” Hondo showcased the array of shiny necklaces that strung around his neck and jangled the bracelets on either wrist, “Do you know what makes these priceless?”

Anakin frowned, “They’re pretty ugly, which I suppose rich people tend to think gives it charm.”

“Exactly,” He smacked him on the back, “But I was going to say that they’re all stolen. Surely, you know that a pirate’s stolen treasure gives it a great deal more oomf. Nobody can resist that sort of quest. Stolen goods are absolutely the most valuable trinkets on the market.”

“That’s what my mother essentially is to her kidnapper.”

“Then you need to steal her back.” Hondo winked.

Anakin stood taller at that and looked over to Qui-Gon as Hondo did the same, seeming to have the same thought in his eyes (though Hondo might have been planning on lifting some of the expensive china that Obi-Wan had just dropped everywhere).

He was going to get her back. No matter what it took.

***

“You need to talk to him.” Cody said as he crossed his arms and looked at a rather shy and sullen Rex.

“I’m not sure how.” He said quietly, “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around all of this and I can’t figure out what would even be the proper thing to say.”

“Sometimes, it’s not saying anything at all.” Cody said.

“Was that supposed to be deep?” Fives complained, “You’re not exactly a philosopher, I’m sorry to say.”

“Yeah, don’t quit your day job.” Echo shook his head, “Just tell him you’re there for him, Rexy.”

“But I haven’t been.” Rex said.

“Yeah, and no one else is right now either.” Cody referred to Anakin’s “friends” who had been spending the whole term surrounding him like the leeches that they were. Now that the kid was dangerous to be around again, they weren’t nearly as keen on spending one-on-one time with him anymore. Ferus, Jax, and Tru all had their backs pointedly turned to the boy by the concessions table, literally boxing him out.

“I know.” Rex frowned, “I said some pretty awful things. And so did he.”

“And are you still mad at him?” Fives asked.

“No! I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to make him feel any worse than he likely already does.” Rex said, “I just want him to feel better.”

“I understand.” Cody said with a firm nod, “Remember the winter that mum left? What we did to get all of our aggression and sadness out in a good, healthy way that also exhausted us into the best sleeps we ever had?”

“Don’t say Quidditch right now, Cody.” Echo groaned.

“Shut it, I’m talking about-”

“-SNOWBALL FIGHT!” Rex shouted.

***

As everyone else tugged on their coats and jumpers to protect themselves from the blistering cold and to better support themselves in the brawl that would surely ensue on Qui-Gon’s vast snow-covered lawn, Hondo lingered behind, nodding at a passing Ventress before looking towards the dining room, where Qui-Gon Jinn sat.

Alone in the shadows, this command shall ring,

An undeniable voice will repeatedly sing.

With this necklace you will slay,

The protector who lies in the way.

Unless completed, the task will burn,

Or removed for another person’s turn.

It should have frightened him that it felt like a swan song, but it danced through his ears with the allure of a temptress guiding him under the sheets, swimming in them, bathing in golden glory. His mind’s eye was eclipsed and he knew no other than the clarity that was brought before him without a moment’s notice.

A smile stretched across his face as he envisioned succeeding in destroying his prey, in pleasing his master. Doing so would rid these chains from around his neck, would give him freedom. He would be a hero of the new age and paid handsomely.

The witch’s voice whispered seductively in his ear.

“Now’s the time… Do it.”

He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more or before this moment, except snuffing the light out of the putrid Muggle Studies professor. It would not bring about freedom to his people, but it would be a start. He had waited so long, missed so many opportunities. Every time it felt he nearly had his hands around the large professor’s neck, the spell was gone.

But not tonight.

Tonight he would-

He blinked awake when Kit Fisto emerged through the back door with a large cake in his hands.

“I don’t suppose you could show me a thing or two about muggle weapons, Qui-Gon? I was always curious if there were some properties that could resist magic.” The charming DADA professor grinned.

Hondo rubbed his eyes. He really didn’t know what was going on with him lately. It was as though he was blacking out while standing on his own two feet. Afterwards, he felt as though he was locked inside a dark room without any light. Or worse, a piggy bank without any galleons.

Qui-Gon smiled at him from his place at the kitchen table. “Everything alright, Hondo?”

He stammered, “Uh, yes! My apologies, just tired is all.”

Or so he hoped.

***

Anakin thought that regular snowball fights were fun, but with magic, anything was possible. The Fett’s had constructed a catapult of sorts, clearly experienced in their endeavors of war, and developed an entire war-based strategy on snuffing out the enemy. Anakin was surprised when Cody had dragged him over to their base, seeing as he’d been such a jerk to Rex. However, he was glad for it, because Ferus and Jax made it incredibly clear by their sudden shunning of him that he was not to be a part of their squad.

He would be more peeved by their sudden change in tune if he already didn’t have larger worries at hand. He almost didn’t agree to playing in the snow right now, but Cody had been so insistent that he couldn’t deny, which was a point that Obi-Wan had made when even he took a break from playing maid and pulled on his winter coat and gloves. Anakin knew at that point that there was no going back.

The fluffy snow that pillowed across the rolling landscape of Qui-Gon’s homestead was something found in Christmas cards, topped off with the soft beacon of light that the rainbow strings of lights around his house offered. Snowflakes still trickled around them, albeit at a slower and more manageable pace, decorating their hair and hats with a sparkling white texture.

The cold air was rejuvenating as it was sobering and Anakin felt for the first time all week like it was possible to romanticize anything ever again.

Well, until a ball of snow hit him right in the face.

“Skywalker, you can’t just leave yourself exposed like that!” Cody hollered at him.

“Yeah, you’re wide open to the enemy!” Fives added.

Anakin shook his head, blond bangs now damp with ice, and crouched down beside the boys as they planned their onslaught. “Who threw it?”

“That coward, Olin.” Rex, who’d materialized beside him, pounded and shaped an ice ball in his hands and extended it out to Anakin. Anakin looked at him curiously. Why would Rex want to help him get even with the people that Anakin had quite literally ditched him for all term? Maybe he hadn’t meant to, but that was certainly how it played out.

“Rex, I’m-” He began, but Rex more insistently put the snowball in Anakin’s hand.

“-Don’t mention it, mate.” He said with a coy smile, “Let’s go kick some arse.”

Anakin swallowed the ball of emotion that once again rose in his throat- an easy thing to do when Cody shouted “CHARGE” and they all went sprinting forward. He and Rex remained back-to-back, through it all, never once abandoning the other.

He knew for sure now what made for a true friend.

***

Obi-Wan managed to force himself into the festivities, despite Qui-Gon’s words biting at him. They’d all engaged in a big snowball fight in the backyard, spearheaded by Cody and Anakin. It ended up being a competition divided by houses, but Satine still managed to get Obi-Wan in the face with a ball of ice.

She’d claimed it was an accident, but laughed when he retaliated in kind.

Hondo continued his excursions under the mistletoe with consistently negative results. It was for the best, in a way, because none of the couples felt the desire to show off and put themselves under the mistletoe if Hondo was there.

Eventually, like all good times, the party had to end and he found himself feeling a little lighter afterwards. His parents didn’t expect him back until morning, which meant he had at least the remainder of the evening to retain levity before it was back to studies and silence.

Anakin had tuckered himself out and fell asleep in front of the fireplace not too long after everyone began to depart. The Fett’s offered to stick around and help, but Qui-Gon dismissed them as Obi-Wan and Satine already had a good handle on most of it.

He picked the unconscious Anakin off the floor like he was a bag of grapes and smiled at Obi-Wan and Satine.

“Thank you two for sticking around and helping.” He said in a hushed tone.

“Of course. ‘Can’t let Ben get all the credit.” She smirked, but her eyes were bright and merry. Obi-Wan realized how close they’d been standing and carefully leaned back to grab another dirty dish to put in the sink.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to put this one to bed. He’s had a long day.”

More like a long year, but neither teenager commented on it.

After he ascended up the stairs, Satine sighed, “He sure knows how to throw a good time, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said lightly. “He does.”

“I noticed you were gone for most of it.” She said carefully.

“Qui-Gon did too.” He muttered.

“Is everything alright?” She knew it wasn’t, of course, but he guessed she was asking to see if anything else had managed to go wrong in the past 24 hours. “You haven’t written all break.”

“My parents found out that I’m pursuing DADA this year. I think they’ve connected the dots about my hopes of becoming an auror.”

She frowned. “You hadn’t told them.”

He shook his head and turned away, busying himself with washing a plate. He knew the spell for that but preferred to have something to do with his hands. Besides, he already knew the look that was blooming on her face without seeing it. She likely already had her hands on her hips and steel in her eyes.

“Well, you had to know they’d find out eventually.” She said. “When the grades for the semester came back.”

“Yes, well, it went about as I’d expected. They’re quite cross with me.”

Where he expected a rant of “I told you so” or something else that he really didn’t need to hear, Satine once again, managed to surprise him. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Is that what you and Qui-Gon were talking about?”

“Kind of.” He was glad he wasn’t facing her so she couldn’t see how red his cheeks had gotten. “He’s been a little busy as of late. Expectedly so. I mean, Anakin is young and requires guidance. Now that this chosen one stuff is going around, everyone’s apparently going to be gunning for the boy… Plus, I’m practically done at Hogwarts. Just over a year and-”

“-He’s not replacing you.” She cut in.

Silence. All Obi-Wan could hear was the ticking of the clock as it echoed through the old house. He stilled his movements and turned to find she was standing very close to him. So close that if he just leaned forward a tiny bit…

“Ben, you know that, right?” Satine was firm in her position and did not want to let the topic drop. Nothing new about that.

He let his shoulders drop. “I’m not trying to say that he is. I don’t own him. He’s not my father and he doesn’t owe me anything. I have no business being hurt over that when there’s a child that requires care and he’s absolutely the right person for it.”

“You know that from experience.” She said in a quiet voice.

“Yeah,” He nodded. “I do.”

“Well,” She moved the plate from Obi-Wan’s hands and set it on the counter. “You need care too sometimes.”

“Have you two been conspiring this evening?” He questioned. “Because that’s what he was saying.”

“No, but I’ve known you for the better part of six years and would like to think that I have at least become a little well-versed in your mannerisms. We care about you.”

He wondered if this meant she saw what Qui-Gon had apparently taken notice of when it came to how he acted around Satine… How she was the same as pursuing being an auror somehow.

“I know.” He smiled. “I care about you too… Both of you.”

Standing in the ambient low-lighting of the dining room, only illuminated by the last vestiges of Christmas lighting, he could still make out every detail of her lovely face. Her eyes had drifted above them in confusion and eventual bashfulness and he followed her gaze to see a small sprig of mistletoe precariously hanging where it hadn’t been before.

“I thought… I thought it was near the closet.” He said, but when he looked past Satine to where Hondo had been standing all evening, there was no longer any mistletoe.

It glittered with the remnants of enchantment and seemed to grow from the very ceiling. While he knew someone was definitely behind this, he didn’t have the presence of thought to think of anyone in particular.

Instead he looked quickly back to Satine, who was staring at him in a curious way. Her eyes were practically sparkling and seemed to rove over his entire face, settling ever so briefly on his mouth. He hadn’t missed it though, because he’d done the same thing.

“Hondo didn’t have much luck with that this evening.” She said gently.

“No,” He chuckled. “I don’t suppose he did. He’d certainly paid his dues. I wonder if he rigged it with a love potion of sorts.”

She smiled softly and he couldn’t bring himself to steer his eyes away from hers, like they were locked in a trance.

“I don’t think he did.” She said. He’d argue he was spellbound, if that didn’t sound so absurd, but he wasn’t sure which one of them moved first as it felt more like gravitational pull that they were both leaning into. His heart was in his throat and every thought that troubled him so deeply the entire evening washed away in a single second’s time. He’d closed his eyes, completely wrapped in warmth as their noses brushed together.

Just as he felt her soft breath hitch against his, a loud clang from up the stairs jolted them apart. As soon as the moment started, it had been shattered and both were the color of rubies.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan called.

“Just… Uh, just brushing my teeth. Dental hygiene.” The small boy called and the patter of hasty footsteps followed before the bathroom door closed.

Oh, how he wanted to melt away right there.

Satine cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze. “Yes, well, I should get going.”

“I’ll walk you out.” He said, also unable to look her in the eyes for fear of what he’d find.

“No, no that’s alright. I’m just using a portkey anyway.” She shrugged and then began to walk away. However, he thought she might have forgotten something, as she paused for a long moment at the door, one hand on the knob. Then, faster than he could comprehend, she quickly turned around, marched over to him, leaned up and pressed a firm kiss on his cheek, just barely catching the corner of his mouth too.

He caught her flushed gaze for a second as she’d lingered a moment longer than anticipated, which was fine because he also felt like his brain had melted to his shoes.

“Happy Christmas, Ben.” She said before steering herself back towards the door.

He gently raised his hand to where she’d kissed him. “Happy Christmas, Satine.”

#obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #obitine #anidala #the clone wars #tcw #star wars #magical forces au #hpau

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maylovexhs · 4 years

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everytime - LOVE ME WRONG(Chp. 38)

Author’s Note: Miss Allie X and Troye Sivan is who to thank for this chapter. They really got me in my emotions. Enjoy this chapter loves! - May

Catch up on everytime here

November 27, 2019. 1 PM.

*Y/N’S POV*

I thought about it and no, I still have decided. It’s only been a week. I couldn’t possibly decide in a week. I wanted to be with Ashton. He was much better to me than Harry has been. I’ve only been with Ashton for three months. I barely gave him a chance compared to Harry. I loved Ashton. But if I loved Ashton so much, why did a part of me wish I was with Harry instead?

“Don’t you have one of those already?” Ashton asked me.

I held the guitar in my hand as I played a few strings on it.

“No” I said. “I have a blue color of it. Not an orange”

“You’re really going to pay for something you already have?” Ashton asked me.

I shook my head, putting the guitar back.

I was Ashton’s work. I surprised him with lunch and decided to stay around for another hour at his job. I wasn’t spending Thanksgiving with him so I decided to try and spend the day before with him. Ashton actually had invited me to spend Thanksgiving with his family but I refused. Firstly, I didn’t want to rub the sight of us in Billie’s. Secondly, I didn’t want to give Ashton’s parents hope that he and I will stay together because I had no idea of who to pick still. And thirdly, I would just be thinking of Harry the whole time there.

We heard the store’s door chime as a customer came in. Ashton and I looked to each other.

“Can I meet you after work?” Ashton asked me.

I nodded.

“Yeah” I said. “Your place. What time do you get off?”

“I close at 7” Ashton said. “So, 8:30 latest?”

I reached up and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll be there” I said.

Ashton smiled at me.

“See you soon” I said to him.

I turned away from him. I started to walk away before I Ashton call me.

“Y/N” Ashton said.

I turned around to him.

“Yeah?” I asked him.

Ashton opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it.

“Ash,” I said. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing important” Ashton said. “I’ll tell you about it later”

“You’re sure?” I asked him. “I can stay another minute. I don’t have nothing to do for the rest of the day”

“Yeah, I’m sure” Ashton said. “Besides, I don’t want Ron thinking I’m not doing my job and fire me if he sees one more second of us”

I nodded at him.

“Okay” I told him. “But you’re telling me it later”

“I will” Ashton said.

I smiled at him. I turned away. I walked over to the door. I stopped to turn around and look at Ashton before I left. He was already talking to the customers who just walked in.

My smile slowly faded.

I exited out of the shop, beginning to walk down the block.

God, I hope Ashton won’t say he loves me. Not that I didn’t want him to say it or know he loves me, it’s just . . . I didn’t want to hear it now.

I knew Ashton loved me. He may have not admitted it directly but it was obvious ever since he flew to Paris for me. I knew Ashton loved me. I just didn’t want him to say it to me because if he does . . . I’ll have to say it back. Listen, of course I loved Ashton. He makes me so happy and I wouldn’t be with him if I did not love him a little. It’s just I am not quite ready to tell him I loved him, mainly because I was still thinking of Harry.

How could I tell Ashton I loved him when every time I looked at him I immediately think of Ashton? It was not enough I felt guilty for not telling Ashton about what happened last week. How could I even tell him? Ashton immediately suspected Harry was jealous of us after that night at dinner. I managed to quickly dismiss that possibility to Ashton since I thought Harry would never think of me in that way again. But now? If I told Ashton, I would just be confirming his suspicion and slightly be defending Harry.

I turned the corner of the block, walking towards my car.

I should have just told Ashton the day after Harry kissed me. I should have told him and I wouldn’t feel so guilty now. I told Ali I was going to tell him but I needed some days to think about what I was going to do with Harry. What was I going to do about Harry? I couldn’t tell Ashton about it and still be friends with Harry. That would be unfair to both of them. Ashton is my boyfriend. I’m supposed to be loyal to him and choose him above any other man. But Harry was my friend. I’ve known him longer than Ashton. How could I choose only one?

I took my car keys out of my bag. I unlocked my car, getting into the driver’s seat and closing the door.

I knew I had to tell Ashton at some point. I knew I had to do something about Harry too. I also knew I had to do both before it was too late.

I plugged my key into the ignition, the car turning on.

I just hope I would know soon or I would lose Ashton and Harry.

10 PM.

So far, nothing. I expected Ashton to tell me he loved me right away when I met him at his apartment but he didn’t. I was a little happy he did not mention it to me yet. I would have no idea how to react if he did. All I had was Harry on my head. I couldn’t properly think of what to say if Ashton did say he loved me. But, on the other hand, I was surprised. If Ashton wanted to tell me he loved me, why didn’t he yet? Did he change his mind about telling me? If that was the case, did something happen that changed his mind? Did he know something about Harry and I?

Ashton entered his room, holding a bag of chips and a coke.

“As requested” Ashton said, smiling at me.

“I didn’t ask” I said. “But you know your way to my heart”

Ashton handed me the coke and the bag of chips. I sat on Ashton’s bed, watching the television. Ashton sat down next to me. I opened the can of coke and started to drink it.

No. Ashton couldn’t know about Harry and I. The only people I told were Ali and Izzy. Both didn’t have his numbers so there was no way he could know about Harry kissing me. But what about everything else between Harry and I? I didn’t tell Ashton that I dated Harry for a month before. I didn’t tell Ashton I wrote songs about Harry before. I didn’t tell Ashton anything apart that Harry was a very close friend of mine and I knew him for forever. Did Ashton know I had a history with Harry? I’ve always made it clear in the media that Harry and I were friends only but anyone could suspect more.

No, no, no. There was no possibility Ashton knew about my history with Harry. It wasn’t like he knew someone who wrote songs with me about Harry. . . OH MY GOD. BILLIE.

I choked on my coke. I coughed, clearing my throat. Ashton looked worried at me.

“Are you okay?” Ashton asked me.

“Yeah” I said, between coughs. “Drank too fast”

Ashton took the coke from my hand and put it on his bedside table.

“You’re almost done with the can” Ashton said. “Did you chug it?”

I shook my head, regaining my breath.

“Just thirsty” I said.

“I can see . . .” Ashton said.

I bit my lip, knowing how stupid I just was. I looked to television.

Billie, his sister. How could I forget about Billie? Billie - who practically knows everything about my love life just from my songs. Billie could have told him. She could have. But then again, Billie gave us her blessing. Why would she want to ruin something she wants to happen? It didn’t make sense.

I looked to Ashton.

Should I just ask him about it? Should I just mention to him about earlier? What’s the worst he could say? That he loves me? That Billie told him about Harry and I? He was going to find out anyway. Should I really just tell him now? It’s been a week. Maybe I should wait until after Thanksgiving. I don’t want to ruin this holiday for him. I could wait another week. I would know what to do about Harry by then-

“What?” Ashton asked me.

“What?” I said.

“You’re giving me that look” Ashton said.

I immediately perked up, smiling.

“What look?” I asked. “There’s nothing to worry about”

Ashton blinked at me, clearly not believing in me.

“Y/N,” Ashton said. “You just admitted something is wrong”

I frowned.

I’ll just ask him about earlier. I’ll just ask that and nothing else.

“Fine” I said. “Before I left . . . what were you going to say?”

Ashton smiled at me.

“Oh, that.” Ashton said. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to spend Christmas with my family”

I let out a little sigh, relieved.

Christmas? He wanted to ask me about Christmas?

“Oh,” I said. “Why didn’t you just ask me that?”

“I was going to but since you’re not coming to Thanksgiving, I didn’t want to make any false promises to my parents” Ashton said.

I smiled at him.

“Yeah . . . it’s good that you didn’t” I said.

Especially since I have no idea what to do about Harry or you yet . . .

“I mean, I would love to” I told him. “Anything could happen in a month and I usually spend it with my friends but I wouldn’t mind spending it with you and your family. Just thought you would ask me the week before”

“I was planning to” Ashton said. “Wanted it to be a surprise when I asked you”

“Oh” I said, looking down.

I scratched my neck, realizing I ruined Ashton’s romantic proposal. I looked up to him.

“Well, it could still be a surprise. . .” I said. “I’ll just forget about it and you can ask me a week before”

Ashton smiled at me.

“I will” Ashton said. “And not in my room”

I still smiled, looking back to the television.

I knew he couldn’t have known. If he did, he wouldn’t have asked me to spend Christmas with his family. I’m pretty sure if he did know, he would have broken up with me already and I wouldn’t be in his bedroom. But Christmas. . . he wanted to spend it with me. I never had a boyfriend invite me to spend Christmas with them. The closest I have ever received was Anne invited me to spend Christmas with her and Harry. But Harry’s my friend. He was when Anne asked me.

Ashton imagined a future with me. A future that I could actually share with him. A future where I could actually be happy.

I looked to Ashton.

If Ashton imagined spending his future with me, he deserved the truth at least. It was the right thing to do. Ashton would understand. Ashton knows I would never want to hurt him. He would know I never planned to kiss Harry back that night. I was with him. Not Harry.

“I need to tell you something” I said.

Ashton turned to me.

“You realized you can’t come to Christmas?” Ashton asked me.

“No, no” I shook my head. “It’s . . .”

How the hell do I tell him without making him upset?

“It’s what?” Ashton asked me.

I bit my bottom lip.

Well, here it goes . . .

“Harry and I kissed” I said.

“What?” Ashton asked me.

“We kissed” I said. “Well, he kissed me and I wanted to slap him for it. I ran away to my room from him but then he apologized and the next thing I knew was that I kissed him back”

Ashton didn’t say anything. He just stared at me.

“Ashton, say something” I told him. “Please”

“I knew it all along” Ashton said, looking down. “I knew he was jealous that night”

“Listen, I know how it sounds” I began to explain. “I told you he was a friend and I really thought we were because I never thought he would kiss me. Then he did and I wanted to tell you sooner but-“

“It’s okay” Ashton said.

“What?” I asked him, surprised.

“Harry kissed you” Ashton looked up to me. “And he’s your friend. You were confused and kissed him back”

“You’re not mad?” I asked him.

“Well, a little. . .” Ashton said. “This happened a week ago, right?”

I nodded.

“I wanted to tell you sooner but I’m still trying to think what to do about Harry” I said. “I didn’t want to tell you until I knew”

“And do you know?” Ashton asked me. “About what to do with Harry?”

I looked down, shaking my head.

“He’s one of my best friends” I said. “I know it’s wrong if I’m still friends with him after that while I’m with you but . . .”

“You can’t do that to him” Ashton said.

I nodded.

“Ever since he kissed me, all I ever think about is him” I told Ashton. “I swear I can’t even look at you because I just think of him. That’s why I didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with your family. It would be torture. I’ve been trying to forget him but I can’t. . .”

“Do you think of him more than a friend now?” Ashton asked me.

I looked to Ashton. I knew the answer but didn’t want to say it.

“If I said yes, would that mean I’m horrible?” I asked him.

Ashton looked down. He sighed.

I immediately felt a wave of guilt hit me. I just admitted I had feelings for Harry. And to my boyfriend.

“You should talk to him” Ashton said under his breath.

“What?” I asked him. “I can’t. He kissed me. I shouldn’t even step a foot next to him-“

“Y/N” Ashton said. “Harry’s your best friend. I can’t force you to pick between me and him”

I stayed silent.

I knew how kind Ashton was but I never expected him to be this kind to me. He was putting my happiness above his. He was willing to give up me as long as I was with the right person. I knew he had to be hurt underneath his kindness.

“You need to do whatever is best for you” Ashton said. “If you need time, you should take it”

I felt my eyes water up. I hugged him.

“Why do you have to be so nice?” I asked him. “It just makes it worse”

“It’s part of my job” Ashton said. “I’m your boyfriend. I’m supposed to be”

“I don’t know if you will be anymore” I said. “I want you to be. I wish I just knew”

“It’s okay, Y/N” Ashton said. “I’ll be happy if you choose Harry. I just care if you are happy”

I cried into Ashton’s chest.

I wish I knew.

I wish I just knew.

#hs au #hs fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #hs fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #hs imagines #hs imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #hs one shot #everytime HS #everytime chapters

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hakuoki-dreams · 5 years

Note

WOW YOUR BLOG IS SO GOOD!!! Yo I'm suffering for real right now. Do you mind writing some headcanons for how Souma, Miki, Iba & Kimigiku (If that's too many just Souma please!) take care of their fem!S/Os when she's on her period (Historical or Modern IDC). I need some comfort right now. T~T THANKS AND KEEP UP THE AWESOME WORK! 💙💙💙💙

Girl I bumped you to the top of my list because periods! Can go fuck themselves!! Right to hell!!! How dare you not be pregnant, right?! HERE’S YOUR CARE PACKAGE 💙

Souma:

He is concerned for you, but also scared, because much about women’s bodies is still a frightening mystery to him.

Inwardly he’ll think it’s kind of metal that you deal with blood on a monthly basis. It’ll dawn on him that you’ve seen blood more often in everyday life than he’ll probably ever see as a samurai. Thankfully he’ll have the good sense not to say any of this out loud

If you’re very emotional or have bad PMS, he won’t know what it’s about. Will assume he did or said something offensive until you explain it to him

Then he’ll get upset at the world in general for being so unfair to you and will probably rage a little at this problem you’re expected to deal with just because of your gender

Eventually Souma will turn into his tenaciously helpful self. He’ll ask a lot of questions

‘Sweets, how are you doing?’

Two minutes later:

‘How are you doing *now*?’

It gets a little overwhelming, but he’s just eager to help you feel better in any way he can. You have to give him tasks to do for you, or you’ll both go damn crazy. Would love to be sent on errands to fetch you tea or find your favorite comfort food. You won’t lift a finger if he has anything to say about it

If you get sad or just lonely for him, he’ll hop right in bed beside you to wrap you up in cuddles and stay there as long as he can. He will put lots of kisses on your cheeks and hair, give you back scratches or back rubs when you’re sore, and will generally try to take your mind off things.

The whole issue is still kind of strange and unfamiliar to him, but he’ll quickly get over it in order to be strong and take care of you.

Miki:

He knows the general summary of what happens to women every month, not many of the emotional details

In his past he’s been a bit of a cad and only interacted with women when it was convenient for him or he got horny. So now that he’s got an actual girlfriend, being expected to help take care of you during this time will kind of throw him

He might act stiff and put off at first, but the genuine discomfort on your face will manage to melt his black heart

This is still Saburo we’re talking about though. He won’t be very gracious as he orders you to sit up so he can rub your shoulders, but he’ll do a thorough job of it

Will have a few good tricks up his sleeve. This man knows a good soak can cure almost anything, so he’ll probably bring you to a secluded onsen or convince his brother to lend him his estate’s private bath for a night.

He’ll do everything for you: getting the water to the right temperature and adding some salts or oils for your aches and pains, as you sit and watch quietly. Then he’ll help you in and leave you to your alone time, since he knows you’ll probably relax better without him in the room

Won’t be good at talking you through any sad feelings you’re dealing with, but he’ll be excellent at holding you. You’ll get to use his chest as a pillow for as long as you want.

If you get teary-eyed, Miki will sigh at you outwardly but be a little crushed on the inside. He’ll wrap you up tighter and tell you not to get so worked up over some stupid fucking hormones, they’ll pass in a few days. Realizes that was probably the wrong thing to say and holds you tighter still. He wouldn’t want to let you out of his arms while you were so sad

Would be more sensitive to your emotions after this and will be better prepared to care for you the next month

Iba:

Hachiro doesn’t know all the practical details, but he’s aware that it’s often an emotionally uncomfortable time

He’ll be very grown-up and mature when talking with you about it. Definitely will make sure you have everything you need and assure you that you can come to him for anything without feeling embarrassed

He’s so direct with it all that it nearly embarrasses you anyway

Would want to know what things help make you feel better. If you wanted to be alone, he’d kiss your forehead and let you be. If you wanted his company, he’d hang out in the same room or very gladly hold you while you each read a book or chatted together.

He’s got a sweet tooth himself, so if you asked for something sweet, he’d know where to get you the best small delicacies and present you with a plate of them. Castella for days

His instinct is to lavish you with any care you’ll accept, but if you asked for some quiet time, he’d absolutely understand and make sure no one else bothered you for a while

If you had bad cramps or were in pain, he’d get a little upset at the feeling of being helpless to soothe them. But he’d definitely bring you a couple types of medicine with some water or tea. Anything that seemed to work, he’d stock up on for later just in case

Would also be very understanding about your mood swings, listening and taking your feelings seriously without dismissing them as hormones (take note MIKI)

Kimigiku:

Kiku knows the struggle and it is very real

You’d be able to rage about every single shitty detail; the inconvenient blood stains, the bloating, the living-in-bed for a while just because standing up and walking around is awkward on heavy days. She’d listen to them all and shake her head along with you

This lady is excellent at caring for you. She’s got a lot of tricks up her sleeve and is ready to help with everything.

Definitely has a preferred medicine for muscle pain, and she’ll remind you to take some daily. She’d also teach you some favorite gentle stretching poses that she uses in her shinobi training, to help keep your muscles loose

Would probably encourage you to get out and take walks with her if you felt up for it. She’d always be sure to stay close to home though, out of consideration for you in case you need to head back.

If you didn’t know already, she’d explain how masturbating is sometimes the quickest way to lessen the cramps for a while. Would be totally willing to help you out, if you were open to that, and wouldn’t have a single qualm if it might make you feel better.

If there were months where your cycles overlapped at all, you’d have a perversely fun time together. Just spending a day lying around, feeding each other snacks, taking turns making tea, gossiping about anything that comes to mind, and cursing menstrual cycles to hell and back

#hakuouki headcanons #souma kazue #miki saburo #iba hachiro #kimigiku #hakuouki kimigiku #hakuoki-dreams

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fallintosanity · 5 years

Text

a wild plot appears!

i’m spoiling you guys today.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Noctis told his younger self much the same version of events as he’d told Regis yesterday, leaving out only the truth about Prompto’s origins and what had happened to him in Gralea. That was Prompto’s story to share or not, especially since the eighteen-year-old Prompto of this time wasn’t here. It still took more than twice as long to tell everything, because all three boys kept interrupting with questions and exclamations.

But as Noctis got to the end, to the truth of his destiny and the death he faced at the hands of his ancestors, they fell into a horrified silence. Noctis forced his voice to stay level, calm, as he told his younger self what Bahamut had explained to him inside the Crystal: the true purpose of the Lucis Caelums, the blood price they had to pay to save the world. When he’d finished, silence hung over the room, broken only by his younger self’s short gasping breaths, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Not that Noctis could blame him; it had taken him a long time to come to terms with everything inside the Crystal, and even now that traitorous refrain echoed in time with his heartbeat: I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

He waited, letting his gaze fall on the view out the big windows on the far wall. Sunset painted the streets of Insomnia red and gold, the last traces of daylight shining like fire along the buildings. They'd been in the past almost twenty-four hours already.

Abruptly Young Gladio burst out, “That ain't fair!” Noctis looked back at him in time to see him bang a fist against his knee. “Why does Noct - why do you - have to die?”

“It's plenty fair,” Noctis said. His voice came out hard, not quite hiding the bitterness he couldn't chase away. “One life for all humanity. Really, it's a good deal.”

“But it's not,” Young Ignis protested. “You shouldn't - it shouldn't—”

“Then who?” Noctis cut in. “You? Gladio? Prompto?” Young Noctis flinched at that, but Noctis kept talking: “How is that any more or less fair? Just because I was born a prince doesn't mean I deserve life any more than anyone else.” His fists clenched. “This is why the gods gave my family power in the first place. If I don't do this, I’m throwing away humanity’s only chance at survival.”

The room seemed to grow darker at his words, though in reality it was just the sun dropping below the distant horizon. Nobody said anything for a few minutes; their younger selves seemed too shaken, and Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto were resigned and grim. Noctis, despite what he'd said, still felt the same ache of unfairness he’d tried to deny. If he hadn't been born a Lucis Caelum, he wouldn't be facing his own death now. No, he thought bitterly. I’d be facing death by Starscourge or daemons while waiting for the Lucis Caelums to do their job.

He sighed, abruptly bone-tired. He’d been ready yesterday to accept his death, but having to explain it to his younger self, to sit here waiting on a past version of his father to make a decision… this was much harder. He wanted to move, to go out and find Ardyn and get this over with. But he was stuck here, and all he could do was warn his past self and hope he’d be better prepared—

A siren began to wail.

All of them jumped; Gladio and Prompto summoned weapons to their hands and scanned the room warily, while Ignis tensed, head tilted to listen. A second siren joined the first, then a third and fourth. “What the hell?!” Noctis yelped.

At almost the same time, Young Ignis and Young Gladio’s phones began blaring an alarm: the Crownsguard alert, a warning that something bad was happening. Young Ignis fumbled his phone out of his pocket and scanned the screen, while Young Gladio shot to his feet in front of Young Noctis. “What's going on?” he demanded.

“... Daemons,” Young Ignis said incredulously. “Daemons have been spotted in the courtyard of the Citadel.”

“What?!” Gladio snapped.

“There can't be daemons here,” Prompto protested. “This is the Citadel! We're inside the Wall!”

“Apparently that is irrelevant,” Young Ignis said, his tone distracted as he skimmed the alert on his phone. “Multiple guardsmen are reporting sightings. All available Crownsguard are instructed to gather in the courtyard to mount an attack.”

Noctis pushed to his feet and crossed the room to the still-open servants’ passage. “Let's go.”

Gladio and Prompto were already on his heels, Ignis half a step behind them. The three boys, though, seemed frozen in place. “Go where?” Young Noctis asked.

“To find a balcony where we can see,” Noctis answered. He didn’t add, and help if we can. Their younger selves wouldn’t be fighting anyway. He ducked into the passage, struggling to remember the route through the hidden halls. Gladio muscled in front of him, then Young Noctis pushed past them both.

His face was pale, but his mouth was set in a determined line. “This way,” he said, and hurried into the dark. Noctis flicked on his jacket light and followed, the others close behind.

They emerged a minute later through another hidden door into the central hall of the tower. Huge windows dominated one wall, with elegant doors set along the bottom which opened onto a narrow balcony that ran along the face of the tower. Noctis led them outside - and stared down at the chaos in the courtyard in dismay.

“Those are Iseultalons,” Prompto breathed, horrified. “And… is that—”

“That's that damn Cerberus,” Gladio said. He leaned out over the railing for a better look and Prompto grabbed his jacket to steady him. Far below, the Cerberus roared in unsettling triple harmony, and a chorus of screams echoed up from the Crownsguard caught in its attack.

“We killed it, though,” Noctis protested.

“Apparently not thoroughly enough,” Ignis said grimly. “The hunters have noticed lately that powerful daemons no longer die, but are merely temporarily dispelled. Apparently that's true for the Cerberus as well.”

“Or it's from the past,” Gladio suggested. “We killed it in the future, but it's still around now.”

“Either way, it's more than the Crownsguard can handle,” Ignis said. “Noct?”

“We should help,” Noctis said. He turned back to the balcony doors; he could jump over the rail and warp down, but his friends couldn't, and he knew better than to dive in alone. “Come on.”

“Hey, Noct,” Young Gladio said sharply, and Noctis turned. But he was apparently talking to Young Noctis, who stood just inside the door, staring at his phone. Young Gladio thumped him on the arm. “What's wrong?”

Young Noctis turned the phone so they could see the messaging app on the screen. “I texted Prompto - I know he's across the city, but I wanted to make sure he's okay - but he hasn't responded.”

“It’s late,” Young Ignis said dismissively. “He’s likely asleep, or away from his phone.”

Young Noctis glared. “It’s barely seven PM. I know you’re an old fogey who goes to bed at eight, but the rest of us normal kids are awake until midnight.”

“I am not—” Young Ignis tried to interrupt, but Young Noctis barreled over him.

“Anyway, even if he was asleep, Prompto always answers his phone.” He punctuated this with a shake of his own phone at Young Ignis. “Always. I’ve texted him at three in the morning and he’s answered.”

Prompto snorted, a fond expression on his face. “I remember that.”

“Why were you—Never mind,” Young Ignis said, exasperated. “In any case, I’m sure he has a reason for not responding immediately. We need to get you to safety and let them—” tilting his head toward Noctis and the other adults— “help the Crownsguard against the daemons.”

Young Noctis shook his head. “But what if something’s wrong?”

“Like what?” Gladio and Young Gladio asked in unison. Gladio narrowed his eyes at his younger counterpart, and Young Gladio scowled back.

“I don’t know,” Young Noctis said. “Just… I have a bad feeling, okay? Prompto always texts me back.”

“He’s probably in the shower or something,” Prompto offered. “I didn’t take my phone into the shower with me.”

“Like you said, he’s across the city,” Gladio said. “No reason for anything to be wrong.”

“Send him one more message,” Ignis suggested in his reasonable tone, “and give him ten minutes to respond. If you still don’t hear from him, then we can start to worry.”

Noctis could tell from the set of his younger self’s jaw that he didn’t like that answer, but didn’t have a better suggestion. Young Noctis sighed and lifted the phone, thumbs tapping out another message. “Fine.”

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #chocobros #time travel #fanfiction #sanity's time travel fic

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little-lanterns · 10 months

Text

Link to the tweet

#limbus company #project moon #i really want to stop posting like this but I also want more people to know #pm unfair dismissal case

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bountyofbeads · 4 years

Text

TRUMP ATTACKS FEDERAL JUDGE, PROSECUTORS IN TWITTER TIRADE DEFENDING ROGER STONE

By Allyson Chiu | Published February 12 at 7:02 AM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 12, 2020 |

As the fallout from the controversy surrounding Roger Stone’s prison term continued Tuesday night, President Trump defended his longtime confidant by firing off a barrage of heated tweets attacking the federal judge and prosecutors involved in the case.

Over the course of roughly two hours, Trump cranked out six blasts about the handling of Stone’s sentencing, including one that targeted U.S. District Judge Amy Berman Jackson, who is presiding over the case.

He implied that Jackson harbored some broad bias, linking the Stone case to her role in the sentencing of his former campaign chairman Paul Manafort and her dismissal of a lawsuit against former secretary of state Hillary Clinton related to Benghazi, Libya.

“Is this the Judge that put Paul Manafort in SOLITARY CONFINEMENT, something that not even mobster Al Capone had to endure?” Trump wrote, sharing another tweet that named Jackson. “How did she treat Crooked Hillary Clinton? Just asking!”

Jackson is scheduled to sentence Stone, who was convicted in November of lying to Congress and witness tampering, on Feb. 20.

The timing of Tuesday’s online attack prompted many to accuse Trump, who has a long history of mounting public crusades against judges and courts over unfavorable rulings, of attempting to intimidate Jackson and secure a more lenient sentence for Stone.

The White House did not respond to a request for comment late Tuesday.

Trump’s fusillade of tweets came shortly after news broke that the Justice Department had overruled the sentencing recommendation for Stone submitted by federal prosecutors, an action that followed Trump blasting it as too harsh.

The prosecutors, citing federal sentencing guidelines, said Stone should serve seven to nine years in federal prison.

In an early-morning tweet Tuesday, Trump lambasted the proposed punishment as “a miscarriage of justice!” Hours later, the Justice Department announced that it would be revising the recommended prison term — a stunning decision that sparked widespread concern about the president undermining the traditional independence of the agency when it comes to individual prosecutions. (The Justice Department said it did not communicate with the White House about Stone’s case this week and Trump told reporters Tuesday that he has “not been involved in it at all,” The Washington Post reported.)

The growing scrutiny of Trump’s perceived effect on the Stone case did little to keep him from weighing in again Tuesday night.

Amid slinging barbs at 2020 Democratic presidential candidates battling it out in the New Hampshire primary, Trump was in full attack mode as he griped about the original sentencing recommendation and demanded to know the identities of the prosecutors behind it. All four prosecutors withdrew from the case, with one quitting his job, following Tuesday’s events.

“Who are the four prosecutors (Mueller people?) who cut and ran after being exposed for recommending a ridiculous 9 year prison sentence to a man that got caught up in an investigation that was illegal, the Mueller Scam, and shouldn’t ever even have started?” Trump tweeted, referencing the Russia investigation overseen by special counsel Robert S. Mueller III that led to Stone’s conviction.

In a later tweet, Trump appeared to suggest that he was considering the possibility of pardons for Stone and former national security adviser Michael T. Flynn, who pleaded guilty to lying to the FBI during the Mueller investigation.

Many seemed to be most taken aback by Trump’s tweet about Jackson, including Clinton, his Democratic opponent in 2016.

In the tweet, Trump questioned Jackson’s treatment of Clinton, probably referencing her dismissal in 2017 of a wrongful death claim brought against the former secretary of state in connection with Benghazi. The suit alleged that Clinton’s use of a private email server caused the deaths of two Americans at the U.S. diplomatic compound in the Libyan city.

Stone also tried to bring attention to the lawsuit last year when he shared an inflammatory Instagram post targeting Jackson, which earned him a harsh scolding from the judge.

“Do you realize intimidating judges is the behavior of failed-state fascists?” Clinton tweeted Tuesday in response to Trump.

Trump has repeatedly gone after judges who rule against him and questioned the judiciary’s constitutional authority. The president’s pattern of attacks have been condemned by lawyers and law professors, who have called his rants “worse than wrong” and “dangerous.”

His frequent references to “Obama judges” prompted Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. to issue a rare rebuke of the president in 2018.

On Tuesday, Trump’s swipe at Jackson was similarly received. People rushed to fact-check the tweet and denounced Trump for “siccing his 70 million Twitter followers” on Jackson, as one person put it. Within moments of the tweet getting posted, Trump’s supporters were already chiming in, calling Jackson “truly evil” and slamming her as “a far-left activist Judge.”

But, the tweet misrepresented Jackson’s involvement in the Manafort case since the judge only sentenced Trump’s former campaign manager to 7½ years and was not responsible for the conditions of his confinement while awaiting trial.

Meanwhile, Trump resumed tweeting early Wednesday morning about the case, praising Attorney General William P. Barr and railing against “Rogue prosecutors.”

*********

THE JUSTICE DEPARTMENT CONFIRMS THINGS ARE EVEN WORSE THAN WE FEARED

By Randall D. Eliason | Published Feb 12 at 4:09 PM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 12, 2020 |

THIS STARTED OUT AS A DIFFERENT COLUMN.

Tuesday morning, I began to write about how things seemed to be okay at my old workplace, the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the District of Columbia. True, Attorney General William P. Barr had recently installed his close aide, Timothy Shea, as the new U.S. attorney. And there had been rumblings that the office might soften its position on the sentencing of convicted former national security adviser Michael Flynn. But the government’s tough sentencing memorandum concerning Roger Stone seemed to be a good sign. I wrote that, at least when it comes to interfering in the cases of those convicted during the investigation conducted by special counsel Robert S. Mueller III, maybe my worst fears about Barr’s Justice Department were not going to be realized.

By midday, that draft column was in the trash. It didn’t take long for the Justice Department to demonstrate that, on the contrary, things are even worse than many have feared.

Political operative and Trump ally Roger Stone was convicted in November on seven felony counts of obstruction of justice, lying to Congress and witness tampering. A jury found that he repeatedly lied to a congressional committee about his role as an intermediary between the Trump campaign and WikiLeaks concerning stolen Democratic emails and that he threatened another witness, Randy Credico.

Federal sentencing guidelines, as calculated by the U.S. probation office, call for a sentence of about seven to nine years in prison. That’s a hefty penalty for this type of crime, but it was boosted by Stone’s threats to Credico and by the duration and breadth of Stone’s misconduct. In a memorandum filed on Monday, federal prosecutors strongly condemned Stone’s actions and recommended a sentence in line with the guidelines.

Then, on Tuesday, a senior Justice Department official said the department’s leadership believed the recommended sentence was “extreme, excessive, and grossly disproportionate.” Later that day, Shea filed a memorandum urging a lower sentence and arguing that the sentence his prosecutors had endorsed a day earlier — in a pleading bearing his name — would be “excessive and unwarranted.” All four of the Stone prosecutors promptly withdrew from the case in protest.

So what changed in the less than 24 hours since the initial sentencing memorandum was filed? Nothing — except President Trump tweeting that he thought Stone’s situation was “horrible and very unfair.”

Anyone who hasn’t been a prosecutor may not fully appreciate what a wildly inappropriate and unprecedented punch to the gut this was. Those lawyers had appeared before U.S. District Judge Amy Berman Jackson for more than a year on this case. When they filed papers or stood up in court, they were understood to be speaking for the Justice Department. This move cut their legs out from under them and destroyed their credibility. Withdrawing was their only honorable option, and they should be commended for exercising it.

Of course, supervisors have the right to review subordinates’ work and to correct perceived errors. But the Justice Department’s pearl-clutching — suggesting that the sentencing recommendation was so out of bounds it required this extraordinary public rebuke of the prosecutors — is not remotely credible. The prosecutors’ position was not outrageous; they simply endorsed the sentence recommended by the probation office. That’s standard operating procedure. One thing is clear: If Stone were not a Trump crony, no one at the Justice Department would have batted an eye about his proposed sentence.

It has long been evident that Trump does not appreciate the norms that historically have shielded criminal prosecutions from political influence. But for the first years of his presidency, at least there were some guardrails. When Trump tried to get then-White House Counsel Donald McGahn to fire Mueller, McGahn refused and was ready to resign in protest. Trump’s first attorney general, Jeff Sessions, properly recused himself from the Russia investigation and then refused Trump’s entreaties to unrecuse so he could end the investigation.

But now, with Barr at the helm, it appears there is no one at the Justice Department to stand in Trump’s way. On Twitter on Wednesday, the president congratulated Barr for “taking charge” of the Stone case, which he claimed was “totally out of control.” Trump plainly believes he can do whatever he wants as president, including meddling in criminal prosecutions of his associates. The politicization of the Justice Department appears complete. Trump tweets, and the DOJ jumps.

The norms concerning the Justice Department’s independence have been built up over generations. They are fundamental to the rule of law and have distinguished the United States from authoritarian regimes whose despots use criminal prosecution as a political weapon. Trump has repeatedly tested those norms, but this blatant political interference in the Stone sentencing represents a new low. That’s why so many former Justice officials are sounding the alarm.

One day, Trump will leave office. But the damage he has done to the Justice Department will endure — and may be irreparable. For those of us who cherish the department and the ideals for which it stands, this is heartbreaking. For the country, it’s extremely dangerous.

*********

TRUMP JUST MADE THE DOJ’s ROGER STONE INTERVENTION LOOK EVEN WORSE

By Aaron Blake | Published February 12 at 11:10 AM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 12, 2020 |

Amid a growing storm Tuesday within the Justice Department over its unorthodox intervention in the sentencing recommendation for Roger Stone, a longtime ally of President Trump, officials maintained that there was nothing untoward about what happened. They said the decision was made independent of Trump’s very public gripes about the matter. They said it was the result of a “breakdown” in communication.

THEN TRUMP TWEETED.

The president took to Twitter on Wednesday morning to congratulate Attorney General William P. Barr for “taking charge of a case that was totally out of control and perhaps should not have even been brought.”

The president’s implication: This was his own, appointed attorney general — whose repeated interventions in Trump’s favor have caused almost constant controversy — getting involved to lighten the sentencing recommendation for Trump’s own ally.

The tweet may not directly contradict the Justice Department’s version of events Tuesday, but it sure colors it in a different way. In one tweet, Trump appeared to confirm reports that Barr has taken an interest in matters that involve the president personally. And there are growing questions about whether that’s just on the Stone matter.

The Justice Department also recently scaled back its language in recommending a sentence for former Trump national security adviser Michael Flynn. It was initially zero to six months, and in that early January filing, prosecutors referred to Flynn’s offense in stark terms. But later that month, a filing added that probation was a “reasonable” sentence and more effusively referred to Flynn’s long service in government. It was a pretty noted change in tone that turned heads at the time. And it came despite Flynn now attempting to withdraw his guilty plea for lying to investigators.

That shift takes on new significance with Trump’s Wednesday tweet. It’s difficult not to read it as him linking Barr directly to these kinds of decisions, whether that’s actually the case.

The latest intervention has triggered a mass protest from the prosecutors who handled the Stone case. All four withdrew from the case, and two of them resigned positions in the Justice Department. The exodus appeared to confirm that there was dissension among the prosecutors over more senior Justice Department officials intervening to call for a lesser sentence. Former Justice Department officials cried foul over alleged political influence in what is supposed to be an independent prosecution.

The initial recommended sentence of seven to nine years was harsh, but it was within the guidelines for the seven counts on which Stone was convicted — a situation in which prosecutors are generally given discretion to make a recommendation. An anonymous senior Justice Department official said Tuesday that the recommendation was considered “extreme and excessive” and that the prosecutors hadn’t accurately communicated what it would be up the chain of command.

Even if that’s what happened, this was still senior Justice Department officials intervening in an unusual way — and in a case of distinct personal interest to the president. Even if Trump hadn’t directly lobbied for the decision, it would be problematic, because it suggests that his political appointees are riding to the aid of his allies, over the judgments of prosecutors handling the cases. A Justice Department official on Tuesday couldn’t name another instance in which a sentencing recommendation had been overturned so quickly. And now Trump is linking this personally to Barr — the man whose conduct on the Russia investigation has erred repeatedly in Trump’s favor.

Trump has essentially argued that there is nothing wrong with such an intervention, even if he had directly ordered Barr to take such actions (which Trump denies having done in this case). Speaking to reporters Tuesday, Trump said that he “would be able to do it if I wanted” and that “I have the absolute right to do it.” Trump routinely claims such broad authority, but generally the Justice Department guards against perceptions of political influence in investigations — and that’s particularly important in cases involving the president and his allies.

We’ll surely learn more about how all that went down in the days to come. But Trump’s tweet sure didn’t diminish the idea that his Justice Department is doing his political bidding — starting at the top.

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THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST ODIOUS ACHIEVEMENTS OF TRUMP’S PRESIDENCY

By Harry Littman | Published February 11 at 7:52 PM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 12, 2020 |

The withdrawal of all four career prosecutors handling the case against Roger Stone, in the wake of the Justice Department’s sentencing shift, underscores that Attorney General William P. Barr’s department has effectively gone rogue.

Prosecutors Aaron Zelinsky, Adam Jed and Michael Marando all sought permission Tuesday to leave the case. A fourth, Jonathan Kravis, has fully resigned his job as an assistant U.S. attorney. These actions threaten to throw the Justice Department into existential crisis.

None of the prosecutors gave a reason for their actions, but their exits followed the announcement Tuesday morning that the department would reduce its sentencing recommendation for Stone, a confidant of President Trump. That news itself came hours after Trump tweeted that Stone’s sentence was “horrible and very unfair.”

Resignation is the strongest possible protest that prosecutors can employ, within professional bounds, against improper conduct by their leadership. The president’s tweet and the department’s reduction of Stone’s sentencing were utterly rank and improper. The action runs counter not only to standard practice but also to the standard that the Justice Department is supposed to embody: the administration of justice without fear or favor.

It is hard to overstate the irregularity and impropriety of the department’s rollback of Stone’s sentence.

Stone was convicted of serious crimes: lying to Congress and witness tampering. His recommended sentence was by the book — literally. Federal prosecutors go by a manual from the U.S. Sentencing Guidelines Commission that lays out appropriate sentences for specific offenses. The seven- to nine-year sentence that prosecutors had sought was precisely what equal justice mandated. That’s far from the “miscarriage of justice” that Trump called it in a tweet.

The Justice Department updated its sentencing recommendation Tuesday in a filing that said the initial guidance “could be considered excessive and unwarranted under the circumstances.” The department’s leadership had been “shocked” at the initial recommendation, an official reportedly told The Post.

Keep in mind, however, that Stone chose to go to trial. He also sought to vilify the prosecution and engage in circus maneuvers designed to suggest his prosecution was a joke. Federal defendants who engage in such tactics virtually never receive sentences lighter than the guidelines stipulate. The system would break down were it otherwise.

But that anomaly is the least of the outrages in this situation. More worrisome is the naked countermand of the recommendation of career prosecutors in favor of a sweetheart recommendation for a political ally of the president. This is indefensible in the U.S. justice system for any reason, least of all raw political favoritism.

I have never experienced or even heard of a situation in which a career prosecutor had been ordered to withdraw a sentencing memorandum within the guidelines’ range. The original filing in the Stone case came from two career federal prosecutors and two special assistant U.S. attorneys. This rebuke has to be maddening for them.

As a general matter, the Justice Department and the White House are supposed to communicate only in rare, well-defined instances and almost never about the results of individual cases. Such contact is a third rail. For those of us committed to the normal course of legal justice, it cuts into bone for the department to do the White House’s bidding in a case in which the president has a strong personal stake.

A Justice Department spokeswoman said that the sentencing decision was made before the president’s tweet and that the White House did not communicate with the department on Monday or Tuesday. If that’s true, that would in some ways be worse: It would mean that the department has become so attentive to the president’s political preferences that it is willing to cross the political divide uninstructed.

The Stone rollback is particularly disturbing amid a flurry of crass political maneuvers undertaken since the impeachment trial ended. These include the similar reversal in the case of former Trump national security adviser Michael Flynn, who, like Stone, has made it a point of his defense to belittle the department; the recent memorandum ordering that the attorney general must sign off on any politically oriented prosecution and even on the FBI opening a criminal investigation; the institution of a process within the department to consider the opposition research that Trump lawyer Rudolph W. Giuliani has gathered in Ukraine; and the sudden ouster of U.S. Attorney Jessie K. Liu, in favor of a Barr acolyte, from the office that is prosecuting Flynn and Stone. (Liu’s December exit from the U.S. attorney’s office came with the promise of a nomination to a Treasury post — a nomination that Trump is withdrawing, Axios reported Tuesday evening.)

Amid this troubling trend, the prosecutors’ departures will ring the loudest alarm in the Justice Department and in Washington generally. The department’s reputation for doing the right thing, already eroded by the abuses that have piled up since Barr became attorney general, is on life support. That is among the most odious achievements of the Trump presidency.

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HOUSE DEMOCRATS ASK SECRET SERVICE FOR DETAILS ABOUT ITS PAYMENTS TO TRUMP’S COMPANY

By David A. Fahrenthold and Jonathan O'Connell | Published February 12 at 12:06 PM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 12, 2020 |

The House Oversight Committee on Wednesday asked the Secret Service to provide a full accounting of its payments to President Trump’s private company — after The Washington Post revealed that the Secret Service had been charged up to $650 per night for rooms at Trump clubs.

In a letter to the Secret Service, signed by chair Carolyn B. Maloney (D-N.Y.) and member Rep. Jackie Speier (D-Calif.), the committee asks for any records of payments to Trump properties, and copies of any contracts between the Secret Service and Trump clubs.

Last week, The Post reported that the Secret Service had been charged up to $650 per night for rooms at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago Club in Florida, and charged $17,000 a month for a cottage that agents used at Trump National Golf Club Bedminster, N.J. President Trump still owns his companies. These payments show he has an unprecedented — and largely hidden — business relationship with his own government.

[Read the House Democrats’ letter on website]

The letter said those charges stand “in stark contrast” to the Trump Organization’s public statements. Trump’s son Eric, who runs the company day-to-day, had previously said that the company charged government employees at a steep discount.

“They stay at our properties for free — meaning, like, cost for housekeeping,” Eric Trump said last year in an interview with Yahoo Finance. Eric Trump estimated the charge per room was “like 50 bucks.”

The actual charges revealed by The Post “raise serious concerns about the use of taxpayer dollars and raise questions about government spending at other Trump properties,” the letter said. Maloney took over the committee in November, following the death of former chairman Elijah E. Cummings (D-Md.).

The Secret Service did not respond to questions about the letter Wednesday morning.

The Trump Organization has continued to say it charges the government “at cost,” but it has not responded to questions asking how it calculates those costs — or why the actual rates are so much higher than the $50 figure Eric Trump cited.

The Post identified $471,000 worth of payments from the Secret Service to Trump’s company, but — because so little data is available — the actual number is probably higher. The payments are not listed in a public spending database, as is usually required for payments above $10,000. Instead, The Post pieced them together using documents from public records requests — but most of the available documents date back to 2017 or 2018.

In its letter, the committee said that the “Secret Service has not disclosed the full scope of its payments to the President’s businesses or its expenses for presidential travel to [Trump’s] own properties.”

The Secret Service is legally required to send Congress a report every six months on its spending to protect presidential residences. But since the start of Trump’s term, the letter said, the Secret Service has provided only three of the required six reports.

And, even in those three, the lines for spending at Trump’s Bedminster and Mar-a-Lago clubs are both blank, the committee said. The letter asks the Secret Service to explain why.

The committee set a deadline of Feb. 25.

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Barr pledged that investigations would be ‘sacrosanct from political influence.’ THAT’S IN REAL DOUBT NOW.

By Aaron Blake | Published February 12 at 3:47 PM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 12, 2020 |

Attorney General William P. Barr faced big questions during his confirmation last year about whether he would maintain independence from President Trump when it came to the Russia investigation. To combat them, he assured senators — repeatedly — that he viewed his job as conducting investigations irrespective of the president’s political wishes.

That’s increasingly in doubt.

On Tuesday, all four prosecutors on the Roger Stone case moved to withdraw after senior Justice Department officials overrode their recommended sentence for Stone. The unorthodox move was announced shortly after Trump decried the proposed sentence of seven to nine years. The Justice Department said Trump’s comments played no role and came after the decision was made.

Even if that’s true, this is still higher-ups in the Justice Department intervening on behalf of perhaps the president’s oldest political ally to reduce his recommended sentence. And Trump on Wednesday implicated Barr directly in that effort, tweeting his congratulations to him for the decision to overrule the prosecutors.

It’s the kind of situation that Barr indicated during his confirmation that he would guard against.

At the time, such questions pertained mostly to his impending oversight of the Russia investigation. But lawmakers also asked him more broadly about whether he would do Trump’s bidding. The president, after all, had repeatedly expressed frustration that his first attorney general, Jeff Sessions, had not taken the investigatory actions Trump desired.

Barr had said it’s not always out-of-bounds for presidents to request specific investigations, and he has long had an extremely broad view of presidential power. But when it came to letting presidential politics seep into investigations, he said he drew a line.

At one point, he was asked about electoral advice he’d given the man who previously appointed him as attorney general, George H.W. Bush. Barr said such advice is part of an attorney general’s job, but investigations are different.

“There are sort of three roles the attorney general plays,” Barr said. “One is the enforcer of the law. In that, the role of the attorney general is to keep the enforcement process sacrosanct from political influence.”

Later, he expanded upon that answer, saying, “I think on the enforcement side, especially where matters are of either personal or political interest to people at the White House, then there would be — there has to be an arm’s length relationship.”

Barr also was asked what would be the breaking point at which he would resign rather than carry out the directive — his “Jim Mattis moment,” in the words of Sen. Richard J. Durbin (D-Ill.).

Barr assured the lawmakers: “I will not be bullied into doing anything I think is wrong by anybody, whether it be editorial boards or Congress or the president. I am going to do what I think is right.”

Barr also repeatedly pitched himself as someone uniquely able to exercise such independence. He noted he was in the twilight of his career and didn’t need to worry about the fallout of a clash with a president.

“I feel that I’m in a position in life where I can provide the leadership necessary to protect the independence and the reputation of the department,” he said.

He added: “I feel I’m in a position in life where I can do the right thing and not really care about the consequences — in the sense that I can be truly independent.”

People can judge for themselves whether those quotes contradict what we are seeing today. We will almost certainly see more evidence about how all of this went down.

But what we know today is that senior officials at Barr’s Justice Department — and perhaps Barr himself, as Trump has indicated — have overridden the decision of career prosecutors and asked for a lighter sentence for a presidential ally. And even if that initially requested sentence was on the harsh side, that’s still a highly unusual intervention.

Has this kind of thing happened with anyone else whose case didn’t involve Trump or an ally? A Justice Department official, who spoke on the condition of anonymity and who explained the situation to The Washington Post on Tuesday, couldn’t point to one. What are the odds that the lone or one of relatively few situations in which this action would be taken just happens to be in a case involving Trump? As the now-withdrawn prosecutors argued during the case, Stone lied to investigators and tampered with a witness because the truth “looked terrible” for Trump and his campaign. So Trump has an obvious interest here.

There are also real questions about whether it’s the first time such an action has been undertaken in the case of a Trump ally. Back in January, the Justice Department requested a sentence of zero to six months in prison for former national security adviser Michael Flynn and criticized him in stark terms. A few weeks later, though, it filed something else indicating a sentence of probation would be “reasonable” and speaking in much more admiring tones about Flynn’s service to the country.

The Stone reversal is much more apparently problematic, but both of these cases warrant probing. And if this isn’t unusual, it would behoove the Justice Department to point to other similar instances that don’t involve Trump in some way.

Barr has long found ways to justify controversial decisions that benefit Trump, up to and including his decision not to accuse Trump of obstruction of justice following the report by then-special prosecutor Robert S. Mueller III. Oftentimes, the justifications stem from his belief in the power of the presidency.

In these cases, it seems eminently possible that Trump never personally leaned on Barr to take such actions and that Barr made the decisions on his own. But it’s also true that Trump has made little secret of how he’d like them handled, via his public comments.

A relevant anecdote comes from the new book by The Post’s Carol D. Leonnig and Philip Rucker, “A Very Stable Genius.” They reported that, after the Mueller report was sent to the Justice Department, Trump didn’t reach out to Barr to suggest what he might do with it. So when Barr issued a misleading summary of it, echoed Trump’s political talking points about it and also cleared him of obstruction, he wasn’t directly acting on Trump’s orders. But he still erred decidedly in Trump’s direction.

It seems possible that that’s what happened with him or other senior officials in this case — they’ve done these things without directly taking orders from Trump and can justify them as the right things to do, free of political influence. Perhaps, in this case, they believe that’s the case because the recommended sentence for Stone was indeed harsh.

But just because Trump may not have picked up the phone and asked doesn’t mean the decision isn’t tinged by presidential politics. They had to know when they did this that it would, at the very least, look bad — as if the Justice Department might be intervening in an independent investigation in a way the president would prefer. And they did it anyway.

It’s not exactly the image of an independent Justice Department that Barr said he was uniquely able to provide.

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Trump’s retweets range far and wide, but how did a sex therapist become a three-time presidential favorite?

By Anne Gearan and Josh Dawsey | Published February 12 at 2:51 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted Feb 12, 2020

President Trump apparently has a thing for @SexCounseling.

Trump has recently retweeted posts from a California sex therapist, Dawn Michael, whose professional Twitter home is a mix of pro-Trump material and, well, other things.

The three retweets since January are emblematic of the president’s habit of amplifying online praise from random or troublesome corners of the Internet. He has been widely criticized for retweeting racially insensitive or allegedly anti-Semitic material — he denies any such intent. But his willingness to cast the presidential gaze and Twitter finger upon oddball figures and little-known commentators has attracted less notice.

And it also appears to be on the rise. So far in February, Trump’s retweets are outpacing his original tweets by about 2 to 1, topping 265 on Wednesday and including commentary from the likes of @HiredGun37 and @heelerhoney alongside Republican lawmakers, right-wing media figures, journalists, his sons and his campaign manager.

In the same period a year ago, Trump appears to have included only 21 retweets among 92 Twitter postings, and only one appears to be akin to the puzzling choices or otherwise obscure boosters he now promotes. On Feb. 12 last year, among a string of retweets sent from his iPhone near 10 p.m., Trump retweeted a video of jaguars lying in the sun, from the account @planetepics.

On Monday, he blasted out an assessment from @SexCounseling — “The people are happy with President Trump and they see how poorly he is being treated” — to @realDonaldTrump’s 72.4 million Twitter followers. By Tuesday afternoon, his retweet had itself been retweeted nearly 6,000 times.

It is not clear what attracted Trump to Michael’s posts, but she appears among a circle of conservative pro-Trump Twitter users who regularly retweet one another. It is also not clear whether the name of her Twitter account had any bearing on Trump’s decision to retweet her.

Michael’s account links to her YouTube channel and a video about “Couples Sensual Touching” that might be best described as R-rated.

On her website, at thehappyspouse.com, Michael calls herself “a nationally recognized relationship expert and certified clinical sexologist.”

“My mission is to help you resolve problems with your intimate life,” Michael says. “With 20 years of counseling experience, I have helped thousands of people improve their quality of life and marriage.”

She claims advanced degrees or certifications from the Institute for Advanced Studies in Human Sexuality and the American College of Sexologists. Neither are accredited by the American Psychological Association, spokeswoman Kim Mills said. The APA does not police who calls themselves a sex therapist or a “Certified Sexologist” as Michael’s LinkedIn profile identifies her.

Michael did not respond to requests for comment by phone and email.

Early in his presidency, Trump would post tweets but rarely responded or looked to Twitter for information. His staff would periodically bring him reports on how well tweets had done and would show him particularly friendly things to re-post, according to a senior administration official who like others spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss the president’s Twitter use.

But it became “both an entrance and an exit” in 2018 as he would, on his own, dive through his replies to see who was praising him.

An aide said Trump has sometimes been taken aback by backlash to his retweets. Often, a string of retweets is not some grand statement — it’s just Trump scrolling and clicking, people close to the president said.

“If he sees it and it’s positive about him, he just posts it,” the administration official said. “It would never dawn on him to check and see who the person is.”

He also likes to use retweets to force journalists and critics to reckon with the size of his Twitter following, current and former officials said. For example, after a firefighters union endorsed Joe Biden last year, Trump went on a barrage of early-morning posts, amplifying firefighters who praised him instead.

Trump has mused to aides that he can mix it up on Twitter more than in real life — and “kind of just see how it goes,” a former senior administration official said. And there are accounts he somewhat regularly looks at for retweet potential, aides say.

But Trump has conceded in the past that he was a little too quick to hit the retweet button.

“A lot of the times, the bigger problem is the retweets,” he said last year to C-SPAN political editor Steve Scully. “You know, you retweet something that sounds good, but it turns out to be from a player that’s not the best player in the world. And that sort of causes a problem.”

Trump’s taste in retweets is varied. A recent selection of retweets includes the conservative legal group Judicial Watch and ABC News journalist Jonathan Karl. He has retweeted official Republican accounts alongside @RedPillReport, which posts pro-Trump material and conservative views that are sometimes racially tinged or sexually suggestive.

“Red-pilling” is a term that comes from the movie “The Matrix” and refers to a choice between a red pill that opens one’s eyes to an ugly reality and a blue pill that does not.

@RedPillReport returned the favor Tuesday, retweeting and commenting on a Trump insult directed at Democratic presidential candidate Mike Bloomberg.

“When a President can make you laugh . . . and fatten your 401K . . . you know you’ve got the right man!” the post said.

Trump has sometimes retweeted posts from accounts that were later suspended, or accounts that said they were associated with the Q-Anon conspiracy group.

Michael is not among the 47 people Trump himself follows on Twitter. Nor are any of the other otherwise little-known people he has retweeted recently. The common denominator is always expressions of support for Trump or criticism of his adversaries.

Late Tuesday, Trump retweeted and commented upon a post by @IsraelUSAforevr, an account that proudly notes its four presidential retweets at the top of its Twitter biography.

The original tweet endorsed the idea of pardons for convicted Trump associates Michael Flynn and Roger Stone.

“Prosecutorial misconduct?” Trump wrote in response, alongside other tweets complaining that Stone has been unfairly targeted.

Prasad Vana, an assistant professor at Dartmouth College’s Tuck School of Business, has studied online marketing techniques and said that retweeting is marketing of a sort.

“In general the idea is to show that there is some consensus developing around an idea,” he said, “and so it’s a way of saying: ‘See? It’s not just me. It’s others who think like that.’ That is primarily the intention.”

Often, content that shocks or outrages is the most popular online, Vana said. That is not necessarily Trump’s intent, but a president retweeting an account called @SexCounseling might raise eyebrows, he said.

“We probably are biased more toward content that agrees with our own opinions, but when you’re on a big stage it is rather wise to vet some information before you put it out there,” Vana said.

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Alice Crites contributed to this report.

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WHY BILL BARR’S DOJ REPLACED CATHOLIC CHARITIES WITH HOOKERS FOR JESUS

By Dana Milbank | Published February 11 at 7:12 PM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 12, 2020 |

There has never been a better time to be a Hooker for Jesus.

Under Attorney General Bill Barr’s management, it appears no corner of the Justice Department can escape perversion — even the annual grants the Justice Department gives to nonprofits and local governments to help victims of human trafficking.

In a new grant award, senior Justice officials rejected the recommendations of career officials and decided to deny grants to highly rated Catholic Charities in Palm Beach, Fla., and Chicanos Por La Causa in Phoenix. Instead, Reuters reported, they gave more than $1 million combined to lower-rated groups called the Lincoln Tubman Foundation and Hookers for Jesus.

Why? Well, it turns out the head of the Catholic Charities affiliate had been active with Democrats and the Phoenix group had opposed President Trump’s immigration policies. By contrast, Hookers for Jesus is run by a Christian conservative and the Lincoln Tubman group was launched by a relative of a Trump delegate to the 2016 convention.

That Catholic Charities has been replaced by Hookers for Jesus says much about Barr’s Justice Department. Friends of Trump are rewarded. Opponents of Trump are punished. And the nation’s law enforcement apparatus becomes Trump’s personal plaything.

Federal prosecutors Monday recommended that Trump associate Roger Stone serve seven to nine years in prison for obstruction of justice, lying to Congress, witness tampering and other crimes.

Then Trump tweeted that the proposed sentence was “horrible and very unfair” and “the real crimes were on the other side.” And by midday Tuesday, Barr’s Justice Department announced that it would reduce Stone’s sentence recommendation. All four prosecutors, protesting the politicization, asked to withdraw from the case.

But politicization is now the norm. Last week, Barr assigned himself the sole authority to decide which presidential candidates — Democrats and Republicans — should be investigated by the FBI.

Also last week, the Department of Homeland Security, working with the Justice Department, announced that New York state residents can no longer enroll in certain Trusted Traveler programs such as Global Entry — apparent punishment for the strongly Democratic state’s policies on illegal immigrants.

On Monday, Barr declared that the Justice Department had created an “intake process” to receive Rudy Giuliani’s dirt from Ukraine on Joe Biden and Hunter Biden — dirt dug in a boondoggle that left two Giuliani associates under indictment and Trump impeached.

The same day, Barr’s agency announced lawsuits against California, New Jersey and King County (Seattle), Washington — politically “blue” jurisdictions all — as part of what he called a “significant escalation” against sanctuary cities.

On Tuesday, to get a better sense of the man who has turned the Justice Department into Trump’s toy, I watched Barr speak to the Major County Sheriffs of America, a friendly audience, at the Willard Hotel in Washington.

Even by Trumpian standards, the jowly Barr, in his large round glasses, pinstripe suit and Trump-red tie, was strikingly sycophantic. “In his State of the Union, President Trump delivered a message of genuine optimism filled with an unapologetic faith in God and in American greatness and in the common virtues of the American people: altruism, industriousness, self-reliance and generosity,” he read, deadpan.

Trump, he went on, “loves this country,” and “he especially loves you.” The boot-licking performance continued, about Trump’s wise leadership, his unbroken promises and even the just-impeached president’s passionate belief in the “rule of law.”

Then Barr turned to the enemy. He attacked “rogue DA’s” and “so-called social-justice reformers,” who are responsible for “historic levels of homicide and other violent crime” in Philadelphia, San Francisco, Seattle, St. Louis, Chicago and Baltimore. Politicians in sanctuary jurisdictions, he said, prefer “to help criminal aliens evade the law.” Barr vowed to fight these foes with “all lawful means” — federal subpoenas to force them to turn over “information about criminal aliens,” dozens of lawsuits to invalidate statutes and attempts to deny them both competitive and automatic grants.

In response to a question, Barr railed against tech companies’ use of encryption: “They’re designing these devices so you can be impervious to any government scrutiny,” he protested.

Maybe people wouldn’t be so sensitive about government scrutiny if the top law enforcement official weren’t using his position to punish political opponents and reward political allies.

Instead, with Barr’s acquiescence, we live in a moment in which: Trump’s Treasury Department immediately releases sensitive financial information about Hunter Biden, while refusing to release similar information about Trump; Trump ousts officials who testified in the impeachment inquiry and even ousts the blameless twin brother of one of the witnesses; and Trump’s FBI decides to monitor violent “people on either side” of the abortion debate — although the FBI couldn’t point to a single instance of violence by abortion-rights supporters.

This week, the Pentagon released a new color scheme for Air Force One, replacing the 60-year-old design with one that looks suspiciously like the old Trump Shuttle. Surprised? Don’t be. Soon the entire administration will be able to apply for a Justice Department grant as a newly formed nonprofit: Hookers for Trump.

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