#(i consider anything more upright than a full loaf to be ''sitting'') | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brain-deadx0 · 4 years

Text

The Lost Prince ch.3

Summary: The kingdom of Elan had once been at peace. It’s said that so long as the royal family lived the land would flourish with them on the throne. But when an unexpected enemy appeared and took the lives of the royal family many stopped believing in the legend. It was simply a ploy by a former ruler to discourage a coup. But some say that the new king sparred the young prince out of fear of the myth, and that one day the true heir would once again take the throne.

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER SUMMARY: They have a plan... it may have been a bad plan.

WARNINGS: imprisonment, forcing someone to perform demeaning acts, injury of a main character, blood, let me know if there’s anything else

As the sun began to set Virgil and Janus huddled together away from the door. As much as they appreciated the open door earlier, while looking at the flora and fauna, it was now letting in the cool evening breeze. Neither dared speak aloud outside of the safety of their room which only made ignoring their growling stomachs harder.

They hadn’t eaten since the night before and they couldn’t exactly bring along the small food stash they kept for emergencies. Virgil was actually starting to miss the stale bread when a pair of robins suddenly flew through the door.

The birds each held a small branch covered in berries as they landed in front of him and Janus. Virgil slowly held his hand out and one of the robins hopped towards him to drop the berries in his palm. Janus did the same with the other bird. The two young men nodded in thanks before the two robins flew away again.

“Didn’t know they did that.” Janus murmured before eating one of the berries.

“Unless one of them could get us the keys I don’t think we’ve needed them to anyway.”

The berries hadn’t been near enough to fill the two up, but it did help to quiet their stomachs. It took some time but eventually the two were able to doze off.

King Saul flipped though the pages of the old book while he waited for the servant to get there and translate. He couldn’t read whatever language it was written in, but the illustrations provided some clues. Most of it seemed to have something to do with the royal family and fae.

“Your Majesty, the servant is here to translate.” He heard someone call from outside his tent.

“Send him in then.”

A few moments later the servant walked through the door. “Your Majesty,” he bowed.

”Here,” King Saul said as he passed over the book, “now tell me what I need to know.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The servant flipped to the right page and began to translate, “If a time may come when their majesties are unable to have a child of their own volition or-“

“I don’t care for those parts. Just tell me the steps and what we need.”

“Yes, Sir.” The servant said before starting again, “The current head of the family and intended heir must share blood... Any amount will do... They then must join hands at sunset... The family head must willingly pass the bond... And both must say the spell.” He summarized.

“So we prick fingers, hold hands, and say a spell. Sounds easy enough.” King Saul mused, “And the spell?”

“I believe it’s “pactum sanguis densior sit quam ex utero sumus participes per familia necessitudines ita et in terra” your Majesty.”

“If that’s all then you may leave.” King Saul told him as he took the book back.

The servant bowed once more before exiting the kings tent. King Saul managed to locate the words of the spell and proceeded to write them down.

‘Perhaps,’ He thought to himself, ‘if the false king were not so self centered he might have realized the differences between me and the man who had originally delivered the book.’

...

By the time the sun rose on the second day, Virgil and Janus were wide awake. When the soldiers not standing guard had started waking up it was hard to ignore. Especially when they started to cook breakfast.

“Bastards...” Janus mumbled, earning a small smile from Virgil, “They could’ve at least done it down wind.”

“Some people aren’t very considerate I’m afraid.” A voice told them.

Both young men jumped and instinctively tried to move away from whoever had spoken.

“Oops, didn’t mean to startle you.” A somewhat willowy man in servants clothing told them.

Janus and Virgil shared a cautious glance at each other as the man reached into the satchel at his side before revealing a small loaf of bread. “Here,” He said as he held it out to them, “you’re probably feeling half starved by now.”

The two shared another look before Janus slowly reached forward to take the bread, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” He told them before whispering, “your Majesty.” He winked.

“... Who are you?” Janus asked cautiously.

“You can call me Emile.” He smiled, “And you two have more people on your side than you think.”

”What?” Virgil asked.

Emile’s only response was a finger to his lips and a wink before turning and walking away.

“Well,” Janus started, “that was...”

“Weird.” Virgil finished, “That was definitely weird, right?”

Janus nodded, “Probably.”

The two of them were wary of the bread at first, but whatever fears they may have had were gone after the first bite. They silently decided the taste was because they hadn’t had fresh bread in years. But neither could remember even the freshest bread tasting so sweet.

Neither mentioned it but both felt full and surprisingly invigorated despite the small amount of food.

...

Within a few hours the camp was packed up, the wagon door was closed, and the group was on the move once again.

The weather wasn’t unpleasant and they even seemed to be making good time. That is until a loud thudding sound broke the silence.

Virgil and Janus had let themselves relax as their minds wandered with the shifting of the wagon. It wasn’t until they were suddenly flung into one corner that they realized something had happened.

“Ah what the fuck?” Virgil hissed.

“Sorry,” Janus told him as he attempted to pull himself away, “You alright?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m fine. My landing was a bit softer than yours.”

“Oh ha ha.” Virgil deadpanned.

“What’s going on?!” Saul boomed from somewhere ahead of the wagon, “Why are we stopped?!”

“My apologies, your Majesty, but a wheel has fallen off of the prisoners wagon. It doesn’t appear to be damaged, but we’ll have to stop for a while to fix it.” Someone standing nearby said.

“Well hurry up then!”

Janus and Virgil barely managed to get themselves upright by the time the door was opened. “Don’t get any ideas.” The soldier said as he unlocked the metal door.

“Come on we don’t have all day.” He grumbled when the two hesitated.

They shared a somewhat baffled look before Virgil moved to leave the wagon. His feet had barely touched the ground before he was grabbed by the collar and flung to the side, “Hurry up.” The man spat.

“Virgil!” Janus called when his friend hit the ground.

“I’m good.” He told him as he moved to stand up again. He was halfway up when a different soldier appeared next to him and pulled him to his feet. “The ground isn’t nearly as hard as the floor.” Virgil said when Janus joined him. Janus gave a sad smile in agreement.

While several people worked to put the wheel back, Virgil and Janus took the opportunity to soak in the feeling of the ground beneath their feet. It was so soft! And squishy! Even their bed mat was nothing compared to how comfortable the ground felt.

The soldiers were nearly done when the King road over to them on a large grey stallion. “How much longer?” He asked them.

“Almost done, your Majesty. It should be ready in just a minute.” One of them answered.

Saul nodded before turning his attention to Janus and Virgil.

Janus hated the way he looked at them. Normally it was somewhere between happy that he had taken over the kingdom and pissed that he and Virgil still existed. But now there was a bit of greed there too. By some miracle it managed to make Janus hate him more.

Virgil wished he could wipe that smug look off of Saul’s face. Preferably with a chair. But unfortunately he was not that brave and not that stupid. Also he was severely lacking in the chair department at the moment.

“The wagon is fixed, your Majesty. We are ready to continue when you are.” One of the soldiers informed.

“Good. Throw these two back in and let’s move on.” The king ordered as he turned his horse.

“Wait!” Janus said before Saul could leave.

The King paused to look at him but didn’t respond.

“Please, before we go any farther let Virgil go.”

Saul smirked, “Why would I do that?”

“Please,” Janus begged, “you don’t need him. Let him go, and let him live. I promise I will transfer the magic.”

“Why should I believe that? Besides, that scullery rat is good collateral. Why would I risk letting him go while he’s still useful?”

“I swear I will do whatever you ask. Just let him go free. Please.”

Virgil was sure Saul wasn’t actually considering letting him go. There was nothing to gain after all. He just wanted to toy with Janus. As soon as he started getting bored he’d laugh in their faces and they’d be back in the damn wagon.

Honestly he wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved by that. On one hand he couldn’t escape, but that meant he wouldn’t have to leave Janus.

Virgil was startled out of his thoughts when Saul dismounted and walked over to them.

“Prove it.”

Janus blinked. What?

“Kneel.” Saul told him.

Janus spared a glance at Virgil who shook his head.

Despite his friends opposition Janus took a breath and dropped to one knee before bowing his head. “Please, your Majesty.” He tried again, “Let him go.”

The King’s lips curled into a cruel grin, “Kiss my boot.” He told him.

“Janus no!”

“Silence!” Saul commanded.

“Janus, don’t. Please.” Virgil begged him.

Janus closed his eyes. He hated him. God he hated Saul. He could live forever and never hate anyone more. But his love for Virgil was worth more than that hate. And his life was worth more than Janus’s own pride.

“Please, your Majesty,” he forced as he shifted to both knees.

“Janus...”

“Let my friend go free.”

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to watch. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. But that didn’t prevent the hushed laughter of the soldiers from reaching his ears.

“Someone grab a rope.” Saul ordered, “I believe we may be able to work something out.”

Virgil tried to ignore everyone and everything around him as he opened his eyes. He kneeled next to Janus and tentatively reached to grab his arm. Janus didn’t look at him.

“You shouldn’t have done that. We would’ve been ok.” Virgil choked before pulling him closer in a poor excuse for a hug.

“Just make it.” Janus told him as he attempted to hug back, “Go find that useless knight of ours and don’t look back. Please, Virgil.”

Virgil clung to him tighter, “I can’t just leave you like that.”

“You can and you will.” Janus told him, “Promise me, Virge.”

He wanted to promise. He did. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t make that promise. He would stick to his plan and follow them. He couldn’t leave Janus behind. Not after everything.

“Please.” Janus begged.

But before Virgil even had a chance to reconsider he was pulled back by his hair. He attempted to cling to Janus, but was ripped away as if he hadn’t been holding on at all.

“Remove his chains and then tie him to a tree.” Saul ordered.

“What? No! Let him go! Please!” Janus yelled, “I did as you asked!”

“You did,” he agreed, “and I’m releasing him. Perhaps we can come back to check on him once we complete our little errand at the Delego.”

Janus watched as Virgil attempted to fight back against the soldiers trying to tie him up. All of a sudden he was eight-years old again. Being held too tightly by a man twice his size while his best friend fought tooth and nail just for the infinitesimal chance of escape. And once again he was too scared and too useless to do anything but cry and scream at the bad people to let him go.

The second the chains were off Virgil started swinging. He couldn’t let them tie him up. He wouldn’t stand a chance of helping Janus if that happened. He thrashed against the hands and ropes trying to get some sort of opening. He could vaguely hear Janus screaming something as the soldiers continued to close in on him with the rope.

Virgil sensed more than felt himself fall to the ground. He had to fight harder! They were gonna win and then they would take Janus away and he would never see him again.

He couldn’t move his arms anymore. His legs flailed harder, trying in vain to somehow prevent the inevitable. His legs were stuck now. Something was behind him- Wait something is by his face. He hears what sounds like a scream and his mouth fills with blood.

“Motherfucker!” The soldier who had attempted to gag him yelled when Virgil sunk his teeth into their hand. They quickly pulled their hand back and turned it into a fist.

“NO!” Janus screeched when Virgil’s head lolled to the side, “Virgil!”

“Little bastard.” The soldier spit on him as they clutched their injured hand.

“Remember your promise,” Saul said as Janus was pulled to his feet, “and then maybe we can come back and untie him.”

“You lying son of a bitch.” Janus spat.

He felt a blinding pain as the back of Saul’s hand landed against his face.

“We’ve wasted enough time.” Saul announced, “Let’s get moving.”

“Virgil!” Janus yelled as he was dragged back towards the wagon, “I’ll come back for you! I promise!”

The door was slammed shut and the wagon began to move.

~~~~~~NOTES~~~~~~

Good news: Virgil is no longer in immediate danger. Bad news: He’s unconscious and tied to a tree... Also Janus is still in immediate danger.

Y’all. I SWEAR there is going to be happier chapters. But we gotta get some of the bad stuff out of the way first. Next chapter might have some nice stuff but yeah. Don’t hold your breath for fluff.

#The Lost Prince #ts Sides #Sanders Sides #ts Janus #ts Virgil #brain dead writes

32 notes · View notes

a-robin-among-thorns · 6 years

Text

In the Shadows of the Rising Sun: Chp 4

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Bit longer chapter this time. I hadn’t intended it that way but here we are.

Chapter 4: Cheap Food Among Friends

Word Count: 2,379

The spare key clicked and Chise poked her head into the apartment. The center room and kitchenette were bare as she knew them to be but tonight she would take no chances. She slipped inside, locked the door behind her, toed off her shoes and deposited her book bag against the coffee table in a single fluid motion. She considered drawing the curtains on the glass doors leading to the mini awning but decided that the fifth floor facing away from the road was far enough from prying eyes. The apartment was stifling enough without cutting out natural light.

One last scoping glance around the room, all clear. ”Ok, you can come out now.”

Her dim shadow cast by the overhead light began swirling and ribboning into the air. The blackness fell away leaving Elias’ thin hunched over form towering in the apartment room. A loud thud sounded as Elias stood upright allowing his horns and parietal bone to become very acquainted with the ceiling.

”Are you ok?!”

He rubbed the top of his skull. ”I’m fine. However...” the shadows enveloped his body once again leaving him as liquid darkness for just a second. When it stopped Elias stood before Chise exactly like before except now he stood only a head taller than her.

”Wow.” He was just full of surprises now wasn’t he? He cocked his head

”Is this better?” He asked eagerly.

”It’s perfect.” Chise nodded, “Wait here for a moment, I’m going to change out of my uniform.” She secured a change of clothes from her small cardboard box where she kept the few things she owned and stole into the bathroom. She returned briefly in her Capri jeans and an oversized tee that almost hung to her knees. No one ever took the time to decipher her correct clothing size but too large was undeniably preferable to the other extreme.

Elias had settled next to the coffee table, and for once Chise was grateful for the lack of furniture in the cramped little apartment. The main room just barely had enough space to accommodate the coffee table and her futon when it was laid out. There had been a television in the center room when she first arrived, however, Reina had moved it into her own room along with almost everything else of ‘value’.

Elias pointed at her shin where her gauze was in need of changing. ”How are your wounds?”

She sat on the opposite side of the table and shrugged. ”Better today, they were mostly just little scrapes. I only had one big cut.”

Elias nodded. ”Good.”

Elias sat quietly, placing his hands on the table his gaze never leaving Chise. She rested her elbows on the table and drummed her fingers. She waited for him to say something...and waited...and waited…and-. Chise swallowed awkwardly and shifted a little to avoid his gaze.

Now what? She honestly hadn’t considered what she would actually do if Elias came home with her. Chise could count on one hand the number of times she had someone over to visit. Well, she could count on less than one hand actually.

The silence finally broke when her stomach growled, prompting Elias to shift his head like a curious puppy. Pink bloomed in Chise’s cheeks as she laid her hand firmly over her noisy tummy. ”Sorry! Oh, uh, are you hungry? I can make us dinner.”

Elias made a huffing noise almost like a chuckle. ”That sounds good.”

Thankful for the interruption, Chise rose for the kitchenette, Elias trailing behind her. She reached for the cabinets before stopping. ”Is there anything you want in particular?” He shook his head. ”No, anything will do.” She hoped he actually meant that.

The cabinets were about as full as one could expect from a home whose occupants avoided being home as much as possible; a half-full box of granola bars, a loaf of bread, cereal and three packages of cup ramen. Deciding the ramen was closest to an actual meal, she seized two packages. Fortunately, there were a half dozen eggs in the fridge that could make the dinner a little more substantial.

Elias watched intently as she heated the stove while pouring water into the cups and depositing them into the microwave. The microwave whirred quietly as she monitored the eggs, two for Elias and one for herself. After both cups were warm and drained, she slipped the over medium eggs atop of the noodles. She placed the cups and two forks, figuring that there was little chance Elias would be able to use chopsticks, on the table. She lastly set two mugs of tap water next to their ramen before sitting down and muttering ‘Itadakimasu’ under her breath. Elias resettled at the table, staring at the cup in front of him.

Deciding to lead by example, Chise slowly began her meal, breaking the yolk and twisting her noodles into a spindle on her fork. She looked to Elias and gave what she hoped was an encouraging grin. He took his fork, his entire hand curved around the handle with the prongs sticking out near his thumb, and gingerly poked at his food. Gold egg yolk bled against the prodding utensil as Elias tried to mimic Chise’s actions. His elbow bent awkwardly to the ceiling while he churned the ramen in the cup, finally securing a bit only to fling it off as he tried to bring it to his mouth.

“Sorry...” he muttered as Chise cleaned the sticky food before it could stain. She shook her head gently.

“It’s ok, here give me your hand.” She spread his fingers and placed the fork between his middle and forefinger, securing it with his thumb, in the same manner she would hold a pencil. “Try holding it like this.” He flicked his wrist experimentally before making another attempt. After some clumsy maneuvering, he managed to gracelessly drop the noodles between his open jaws. “What do you think?”

He swallowed throatily without chewing. “It’s very salty but good.”

They spoke very little during their humble dinner. Except for a few small mishaps, Elias quickly mastered the fork as the noodles rapidly disappeared behind his bone jaws. Chise wasn’t far behind, all but devouring her ramen and ignoring decorum as she slurped the leftover juice.

Empty cups cluttered the table as they contentedly sighed in unison. As Chise cleaned the table she noticed her eyelids had suddenly grown very heavy. Her gait was sluggish and tired as she tossed the styrofoam cups in the bin. She stifled a long yawn as she sat next to the coffee table once again. How strange, the sun had only just set.

Gaining her attention with a grunt Elias said, “Thank you for the meal. That was the first I have eaten in a while.”

Oh, so that was it. Pathetic as it was, the tub of noodles was the first meal she had managed to finish since… she couldn’t remember when. Chise had grown so accustomed to the constant sharp ache of her stomach squeezing empty space she had completely forgotten what a full belly felt like.

It was then that she finally noticed the apartment was truly empty save for herself and her odd guest. She could see and hear nothing scurrying along the floor or walls. Even the shapeless ones that seemed to perform no function but to gurgle and take up space were nowhere to be seen. No yokai, no monsters, no demons, nothing.

It was so…quiet.

Keeping her dictionary on hand, Chise said “Elias can I ask you something?” He nodded. “Those… things, like the one that chased me yesterday, do you know what they are? Why no one else can see them?”

Elias seemed to contemplate her words for a moment before answering. “Where I am from they are called fae creatures, or neighbors when they are not openly hostile.” He paused while she thumbed the dictionary until receiving the ok to continue. “They are creatures that exist beyond the veil of ordinary mortals. In order to see them a human must have a connection with that veil. But that connection means that the fae can interact with that human as well.”

Her brows knitted together. “So… I have that connection?”

“Yes and one of the strongest connections I have ever seen.” His eyes regarded her curiously. “I am surprised you do not already know this. The magic you performed earlier was quite impressive.”

“Ma-magic?” She blinked and consulted her dictionary; yup mahō, he had definitely meant magic. “What magic?”

“You warmed our meal without any fire.” He stated matter of factly.

“Warmed...you mean the oven? That isn’t magic it's electricity. It just human technology.”

At this, Elias looked very taken aback. His head swiveled around the room as if something that had just been out of sight decided to reveal itself. “Japan is even more different than I thought.”

“Wait, are you saying I could do that? Magic?” Despite herself, a small flutter of wonder rose in her chest.

His studious gaze fell on her again. “I believe so.” He said slowly. “But I would not recommend it if you are inexperienced like you say. If you are not careful it can be dangerous.” Bone fangs clacked and clicked against each other. Maybe it was her imagination, but Chise could have sworn she saw his shoulders tense.

“Why is that?”

“Because your body is so weak.” The fluttering froze. “All sleigh beggy are like that.”

The frozen hummingbird sitting in her rib cage crashed to her stomach and shattered, seeping ice through her veins.

Long tresses of scarlet trailing like ribbons swam just outside her vision. because...so weak...even a baby is stronger...late at night a tiny girl has wandered where a single fluorescent bulb illuminates a narrow hallway. A man is kneeling there and in a few words and a pat on the head, he is gone. Lonely nights and days follow as clothes begin to hang looser and looser. Before long even she is failing, taking step after step leaning and reaching and-

Chise gasped sharply as her thin nails drew pricks of blood in the muscle of her forearm.

Pressure squeezed in her throat and breathing became difficult. Hurriedly and without much thought she excused herself to take a shower and rummaged her night clothes out of her pathetic little box, just barely acknowledging Elias’s reply and finding sanctum in the bathroom.

She hadn’t meant to slam the door.

Chise breathed deeply but found her lungs incapable of holding the air as she tore off her clothes in a furious hurry. Water pattered loudly from the limescale coated facet and she lingered under the torrent long after she was clean and rinsed. The water scalded, she could run it hot on these weekend retreats when Reina could not scold her for using it up, until it ran cold from overuse. But still, she lingered shivering and desperate for the sensations outside to distract her from the ones within to no avail.

She was terrified. Not of the inhuman creature sitting just outside her door, but of the feelings and uncertainties thrashing within her. It had been easy to operate on a high when could just act and not think. But her old wounds had torn open so suddenly, so violently, she could no longer tell past from present.

Her arms wove around her chest in a sad subconscious hug to stave off the cold. Why had she dared to think that she could forge a friendship when her mind and body were so pathetically fragile? She almost longed for the time when she was angry, alone and numb; only feeling alive when terror or pain shot through her veins. At least it had been simple.

Eventually, she exhausted her heart and stepped out, numb and dripping, on the cold linoleum. Her scrapes from yesterday and pricks from today needed attendance and she bandaged them absently. After she had meticulously dried and dressed she walked out of the bathroom uncertain of what she would say or do.

Her eyes fell on Elias facing the only window at the back of the center room and at once her nerves calmed. She knew exactly where she was again.

An anchor in the storm. A perch.

Chise walked quietly, her feet padding beside him as she kneeled beside him mirroring his posture. The sky was clear and dark, the clouds retreating on the horizon having decided they had overstayed their welcome. His head had tilted up searching high into the night sky that was always quick to greet the earth on short winter days. A few bright stars dotted the dusk waiting for their brothers and sisters to join their shift.

A thought presented itself to her. “What are the stars like in Lapland?” A considering rumble resounded in his throat.

“The constellations are the same but their positions are slightly different. Some nights the moon and stars are bright enough guide by.” His gaze fell to the blaring neon and yellow lights where the city’s heart lay “I have never seen anywhere humans make enough light to dim the stars.”

“The city is really bright.” She agreed.

“Almost as if the stars reside on the ground instead.” He hummed.

Stars sitting on the earth. Two lonely little stars sitting in an apartment. What a funny notion.

She hummed wistfully. “The sky unobstructed by human light, stars as far as the eye can see.” She shifted to wrap her arms around her legs lying her head against her scrawny and scarred kneecaps. She no longer remembered the searing pain that seized her just moments ago. Her eyes were heavy but she did not think that fatigue was the culprit. “I’d like to see it someday.”

Elias turned to stare at her, only one red eye visible from the angle of his skull. Something was different in the light of his eyes from when she first met him in the forest. Something she couldn’t place.

On some foolhardy instinct, perhaps an ache to assure herself that he was real, her hand cautiously curled around his. Chise could not meet his eyes.

Claws encircled fingers. “I hope that you will.”

#The Ancient Magus Bride #mahou tsukai no yome #mahoutsukai no yome #elias ainsworth #chise hatori #elias x chise #chise x elias #robinthorn #fan fiction #fan fic #stormy writes #au #in the shadows of the rising sun #depressing slumber party!#i swear theres a read more on desk top T_T #sorry mobile users

31 notes · View notes

pftones3482 · 6 years

Text

Clearer

Commission for @kyoshira7. Under a cut for a very long commission lol. It didn’t quite end how I wanted, but I was reaching the end of what I could do.

Sometimes Sam wondered what his life might have been like if he had been born as a woman.

He knew that he didn't want to become one; he had thought about that for a while, considered the idea that he might be transgender, and had dismissed it early on. It was always an option, in the back of his mind, but it wasn't really what he wanted.

He just wondered, sometimes. When he caught women crossing the streets at night to avoid him, when women shielded their daughters from him as they walked past one another on the sidewalk. He wondered what it might be like to not be the center of fear for some of the women in the world.

It angered him, a bit. He'd admit that. He had done nothing to warrant the fear of these women but be born a male. It wasn't fair for him. But it wasn't fair for them to feel that way either, and Sam recognized this.

He did his best to appear non-threatening, to smile politely, keep his hands down when he spoke, going against his natural instinct to gesture and speak at the same time. It seemed to work, but there was always the stiffness in the shoulders of the women he spoke to, the protective hands on their children's shoulders when they asked, most times begrudgingly, for directions.

He didn't think living as a woman would be easier. Sam knew that. He had a few female coworkers at his software firm, some higher up than him, and even the ones who knew more and had worked for the firm longer got belittled by coworkers and customers alike.

Sam wanted the experience, though. Wanted the chance to live as a woman, to see what they went through, in the hopes that maybe he could make it easier for some of them. He wanted to have a kid, not possible without a partner of his own, wanted to feel the connection to someone he had carried himself.

Okay, so maybe he had considered the idea of being transgender more than once. But it still didn't feel right to him.

Sam sighed and unlocked the door to his house, stepping into the air-conditioned entryway and kicking his shoes off onto the rug. The door clicked behind him, locking automatically, and he set his keys on the hook that was nailed to the wall before trudging to the kitchen.

His housekeeper, Moira, had left him a note on the fridge to let him know that the plumber was coming in the morning for the downstairs powder room. There was a smiley face drawn next to her name, and Sam let out a chuckle at the sight of it. Moira was too adorable for her own good, and a great housekeeper to boot.

He tossed the note into the trash under the seat and pulled open the fridge, leaning in and grabbing a beer and sandwich fixings. He kicked the door shut and settled everything onto the marble countertops, popping open the mayo and mustard and reaching into the bread box, where Moira had stored a fresh loaf of Italian bread.

It crunched under the knife as he sliced it, slow, methodical, setting two thick slices down on a plate before returning the loaf to the box and shutting it. Making a sandwich was probably the most mechanical set of movements in the universe, Sam mused as he slathered the bread in the dressings and then topped it with turkey and American cheese. It was the same action every time, the back and forth of the knife, the setting of the meat and the cheese to get the perfect amount in every bite. Nothing was different about it, except perhaps the type of meat on it.

He put the ingredients back in the fridge and took his snack to the back deck, settling onto his reclining chair and kicking back to look at the fading sun.

It had been a long day at work, and Sam was honestly ready to give up. He didn't feel as if his life was going anywhere, didn't feel as if he was succeeding in the ways he was meant to. He sighed and took a forlorn bite from his sandwich, munching thoughtfully as the sky darkened.

If anything, he wanted some kind of experience that just...made him appreciate the other side a bit more. Nothing extreme. A day in the life of a different gender.

He puffed his cheeks out and leaned back in his seat, setting his food down on the side table and staring up at the heavens. He wasn't sure how long he stared, watching as the sky darkened from blue to deep orange and red to navy to full, inky black, but eventually instead of clouds he was star gazing, picking out the pin-pricks of light as they jumped to life.

Sam's eyes caught sight of one-star drifting across the sky, not as fast as he might have thought a shooting star would move, and he sat up in excitement, tracking it's path across the sky.

He hadn't seen a shooting star since he was a kid, sitting on the roof of his parent's garage with binoculars in hand. He had made a wish to get the new Batman comics for his birthday. Oddly, he had. He had brushed it off years later as his parents overhearing his eager wish, but now Sam stood up and leaned against his porch railing, clutching his drink in his hand and staring up at the star. It was nearly on the horizon, and Sam remembered the myth he had been told that, if he didn't wish before the star was out of sight, it wouldn't come true.

"What the hell," he muttered to himself.

He shut his eyes and wished silently. For something different in his life, for understanding about what it was like to have been born differently, if only for a bit.

When nothing happened after a minute had ticked by, he opened his eyes with a small chuckle, shaking his head. Foolish, really, to believe in childish things. It never got anyone anywhere in any real-life situation.

Sam let out a huff, downed the remainder of his beer, and then took the empty can and the remains of his sandwich inside, tossing them into their respective recycling and garbage cans before setting the plate into the dishwasher and closing the door with his foot.

He went through the monotony of bed preparation with his wish in the back of his mind, brushing his teeth and then spitting into the sink and staring at his reflection for several long minutes, noting the weary bags under his eyes, the stubble on his face, the way his hair was starting to grow out from its buzz cut.

If he was in a movie, Sam supposed that he would have some intellectual, revolutionary inner monologue, but all he could think about was how wonderful bed sounded.

He pushed off of the sink and left the bathroom, collapsing into bed without bothering to remove his clothes. For some reason, he was suddenly exhausted. Sure, he had been tired when he got home from work, but it hadn't been nearly this bad.

Must have been the stargazing, Sam reasoned with himself as he curled up into the blankets and snuggled into the silk sheets under him. That always made him sleepy when he was a kid. That plus the beer...totally the reason.

He fell asleep clinging to his pillow.

"Mommy?"

Sam groaned and rubbed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands into the sockets as hard as he could muster. Where was the tiny voice coming from? And what was that blaring noise?

"Mommy, th'alarms goin' off."

"What?" Sam managed to croak.

His voice was...way higher than it usually was in the morning, like if Pat Benetar and Ariana Grande had a baby. That weird combination between alto and soprano. And why was Moira calling him "Mommy?"

"Th'alarm," the voice said again, and Sam realized slowly that it was not a woman's voice, but a child's. "It's been going off for like, a whole hour. Are you late?"

Work.

Sam bolted upright in bed, flinging the blankets off and faintly registering that the blankets were not the soft silk he had fallen asleep on, but rather a soft lavender cotton. He frowned down at the sheets and....why were they blurry?

Why was everything blurry, actually?

"Mommy?"

Sam turned slowly to the child next to him – and yes, they were indeed a child – and squinted down at the form. "I can't...see," he said slowly, his voice still too high for his own comfort. Was this some weird dream?

"Oh!" the child said gleefully.

They leaned over to the table at Sam's right – he didn't have a bedside table there – and plucked something off the top, handing it over with a bright smile that Sam could only make out because of the number of teeth being used. "Here you go! I'll make breakfast!"

The kid bolted before Sam could say otherwise, leaving him to open up what were definitely glasses and slide them onto his face. Sam had never needed glasses in his life, and he blinked rapidly when he put them on, everything suddenly becoming crystal clear.

His bed was no longer a king, but rather a full. The blankets were older and purple and cotton, but clean. They smelled like flowers. The room was small, more of a closet than a room, and a dresser sat tucked into a corner, overflowing with folded clothes on top – the clear time of someone with no time on their hands to put things away.

As Sam slid out of bed, his gaze still sliding around the room, he stumbled, his feet hitting the ground sooner than he was prepared for. He yelped, catching himself on the bed, and looked down to see if perhaps he had tripped on something.

Oh.

He was wearing a baggy t-shirt and boxers, but even he could see (and feel, now that it was registering in his head) the presence of weight on his upper chest.

Her upper chest.

Sam bolted to the bedroom door, furiously looking down the small, carpeted hallway and spotting what was definitely a bathroom at the head of the staircase. Sam was in the space in two seconds flat, gripping to the mirror and staring with wide eyes at the image presented.

Disheveled blonde hair, hints of brown at the roots that suggested dye, tangled into a sloppy bun at the nape of the neck and falling out from a night of restless sleeping. Clear cleavage under the t-shirt, a mess of tie-dyed colors that could only be the work of a toddler. The eyes were rimmed with a soft darkness, the only part of the body Sam could say was the same, and they glinted a dark brown color.

"What the fuck?" Sam muttered. Then, louder: "What the FUCK?"

Before he – she – could process anything further, a piercing beeping sound registered from down the stairs, and Sam spun to the door, staring down the steps and then pattering down them quickly, trying to ignore the tugging of the excess weight on her chest.

When Sam skidded into the kitchen, he – she – found it filling with smoke, the small child that had woken her up frantically blowing on the burning toaster.

Like, literally burning. The toaster was on fire.

Sam's eyes flickered around the kitchen, some instinct dragging her to the cupboards under the sink, and she pulled out the fire extinguisher that was there, aiming it at the toaster and squeezing the handle.

Foam shot out from the nozzle, dousing the toaster and the child next to it, and for a moment the pair stood in silence, the screeching fire alarm still going off. Sam put down the extinguisher slowly and then glanced up, finding the alarm mounted over a door that appeared to lead into a backyard.

On habit, Sam stretched up to turn it off, finding with irritation that she was now several inches too short to just hit the button. Instead, she had to drag a chair over from a table in the corner, clamber up, and smack her thumb into the button.

When she climbed back down and turned around, the child was in tears. "I'm sorry, M-Mommy," he whimpered, clutching to the front of his shirt and wringing the hem with his fists. "I didn't m-mean to. I j-just w-wanted-"

Something about the look of the kid broke Sam's heart, and she knelt to the floor in front of him, reaching out and awkwardly squeezing a shoulder. "It's okay," she found herself saying. "Everything is fine now."

The child sniffled pathetically and then bolted from the kitchen, leaving Sam to wobble into a sitting position on the floor.

Okay, so he...she. He was a she. Right? That seemed to be the consensus, between the new body and the child calling him – her – Mommy. Sam was a woman, and a woman with a child to boot.

The next question Sam had was why.

Why was he a woman? How did he turn back? What had happened?

The phone was ringing.

Sam pulled him-herself off the ground, clinging to the wall, and rounded the corner into what was obviously the living room to find a land line (who the fuck still had land lines?) going nuts in the corner.

The caller ID rang up as some law firm that Sam had never heard of before, and she answered with trepidation, gnawing on a thumbnail as she dragged the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"CHARLOTTE. Where the HELL are you?" demanded an angry male voice on the other end of the line. "You're an hour late, and we need to go over this case!"

"I...there was a fire at home," Sam (was he Charlotte now?) managed, eyeing the foamy mess in the kitchen. "Sorry."

There was a long pause, and then a deep sigh. "You and Blake all right, at least?"

"Who's-?" The kid. "Yeah, we're all right. He's a little freaked out, though. Don't know if I'll be able to make it in today."

Yet another long pause echoed in Sam's ear and she gnawed on her lower lip, lifting her gaze to the ceiling and crossing her fingers. Finally, the man gave a long groan. "Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll give the case to Johnson. See you Monday."

That's right, Sam mused as she hung up the phone. It was Friday, meaning that she had the whole weekend to figure out what the hell was going on.

"You did wish for this, you dunce," Sam muttered under her breath.

A small thud came from upstairs and she glanced at the ceiling again, shoulders slumping. The kid – Blake, she recalled – had seemed pretty freaked out.

"Parental instincts, don't fail me now," Sam muttered, huffing and moving back to the stairs. She climbed slowly, eyeing the family photos on the wall.

The very first one was the girl whose body Sam was inhabiting, Charlotte, at what seemed to be a rather young age. She was holding onto a baby in the picture, Blake, Sam assumed, and two older people were on either side of her, most likely her mother and father. No sign of a husband or wife, and the bed Sam had woken up in was pretty small, so Charlotte didn't appear to have any kind of permanent partner.

The rest of the photos were pictures of Blake throughout the years, in the bathtub, holding onto Grandma's fingers and toddling towards the camera, eyes squinted up in delight. His hair was a dark brown, eyes darker, and his skin tone was a lightly tanned color, the same tone as Charlotte's. He had a freckle under his nose, Sam noted.

It was easy to find Blake's room; aside from Charlotte's room and the bathroom, it was the only other door in the hallway, and it was decorated with superheroes.

Sam knocked with two knuckles, feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Uhh...Blake? You okay bud?"

"Go 'way."

His voice was muffled, and Sam pushed open the door slowly, squinting into the dark room. Blake was flopped face down onto a car shaped bed, pudgy fingers curled into his pillow. Sam stepped into the room slowly, shutting the door behind him, and hesitated before stepping over to the bed and squatting. "You okay?"

"You're mad at me."

Sam blinked in surprise. "What? No I'm not."

"Yes you are. I did a bad thing."

Sam settled onto her knees and reached a tentative hand out, setting it on Blake's back. "I'm not mad. Promise. I was just...a little scared."

Blake peeked up at that, brown eyes watery and lower lip puffed out. "Why?"

"Well," Sam said slowly, lifting his gaze up to avoid the probing eyes of the toddler. "There was a fire. So that's scary. But you were next to the fire, and that was scarier, because you could have gotten hurt."

"But I'm a big boy, you said so," Blake protested.

"Yes," Sam admitted, sitting back on her haunches. "But fire is still pretty dangerous. So we shouldn't touch it or play with it."

Blake nodded sagely and then sat up, shoving a fist against his eye and rubbing furiously. "Kay. Do you have to go to work now?"

"Nah, I'm taking the day off," Sam declared, giving the kid a warm smile. "Thought it would be more fun to hang out here."

"So Miss Patsy isn't coming over to watch me?" Blake inquired.

"Who?"

Blake frowned, his eyes glittering. "Miss Patsy. The neighbor."

Shit.

"Where's my cell phone, Blake? Do you remember seeing it? I can't seem to find it."

Blake bobbed his head and slid from the mattress, hopping to the floor in his socked feet and pattering out of the room. Sam rose and followed him back to the bedroom she had woken up in, watching as he trotted to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer, dragging out a phone. "Here it is!"

It was a flip phone. An honest to god flip phone. With the size of the house and the way Blake's room was furnished, Sam thought that Charlotte would have at least a basic smartphone, even if not a great one. Sam hadn't used a flip phone since 2007.

She took it gingerly and opened the cover, eyeing the lit screen on the inside. There was one missed call, sure enough, from a "Patsy Bennet" that Sam assumed was the neighbor in question.

She pressed the green phone button to call back, lifting the device to her ear and listening as it rang once, twice, and then -

"Charlotte, thank goodness. We saw smoke from the kitchen, are you and Blake all right?"

Sam blinked at the chipper voice and glanced down at Blake, who was staring intently at his fingers like he was in the midst of an epiphany. "Uh...yeah. Are you still able to watch Blake for an hour or two? I need to uh...I need to run to work, sort a few things out, and then they're giving me the rest of the day off."

"Really? Wow. You must really have freaked them out if they're doing that. Yeah, bring him over. Patrick is waiting for him to come play. See you in five?"

"Sure."

"Okie doke!"

The dial tone rang in Sam's ear and she turned to Blake, who was staring up at her in amazement. "D'you know we have ten fingers AND ten toes, Mommy?"

Sam managed a grin. "I sure did, buddy. Come on. We need to get ready to go see Miss Patsy."

Wrangling a toddler was much more of a challenge than Sam had anticipated. Sam was able to get dressed in thirty seconds flat, though that might have had something to do with how much she was trying to avoid looking at Charlotte's body while changing. But Blake was another challenge all together.

For one thing, Blake had a surprisingly short attention span and, just when Sam would be getting ready to tie a shoe or help put on a shirt, he would bolt for something in the room and start to play with it.

For another, Blake seemed intent on learning how to do everything step-by-step. Which in and of itself wasn't a bad thing, it was good for him to learn how to tie his own shoes, but Sam was kind of having an internal crisis.

"Blake, seriously, I told Miss Patsy I'd be over in five minutes almost fifteen minutes ago, you can show me that stuff when you get back," Sam finally groaned in exasperation when Blake had come bounding over with yet another art project.

Blake didn't seem to take offense, merely beamed and said, "Okay Mommy!" and then bounced to put away the item before heading for the stairs.

"Finally," Sam muttered.

They got out the door, Sam finding a set of keys next to it, and Sam let Blake lead the way over the small stepping stones in the tiny front yard that led to the neighbor's yard, blocked off by a short fence.

A woman was sitting on her front porch step holding a mug of what smelled like coffee, watching with a grin as who Sam assumed was her son Patrick went bouncing across the yard after a ball. A tee was set up in the corner, and he was holding a plastic bat.

"Mommy can I go play?" Blake pleaded.

"That's what we're here for," Sam said, voice monotone.

Blake stared at her for a long moment, his lip puffing out after a lapse of silence. "Mommy, you have to say goodbye."

"What?"

"Our special goodbye!" Blake whined, tugging on Sam's hand. "Pleeeeaasssse?"

Sam was at a loss. She had no idea what Blake wanted, or where to even begin, and she knelt in the grass slowly, dew seeping into her jeans. "Uh...how about you start?"

"That's not how it goes though!" Blake whimpered.

His eyes were getting glassy again, and Sam was about to panic, when the woman – Patsy – called out, her voice tinged with a sickly sweet Southern accent. "Hey! Charlotte! Come here for a second!"

"Sorry sweetie, I gotta go."

Sam bolted, feeling a coil of guilt in her stomach, but she moved rapidly towards Patsy, plastering a smile on her face. "What's up?"

"You sure the house and everything is all right from the fire?" Patsy asked, her eyes filled with concern.

Sam nodded. "Oh yeah. Fire extinguisher worked, and I unplugged the toaster."

"All that smoke was from the toaster?" Patsy yelped in disbelief.

"It sort of caught on fire," Sam admitted.

"How?"

Sam shifted on her feet, suddenly aware of how the next part would sound. "Um...I wasn't fully awake and Blake was trying to make breakfast for me."

"Jesus."

Patsy looked disappointed, and Sam winced. Apparently, Charlotte was not nearly as clumsy as he was. She was.

It was getting easier to think in feminine terms for himself, but Sam was struggling. He had to keep correcting his own brain, because if he started referring to himself as "he" while he was trapped in a woman's body, he was going to go insane.

Ah, fuck, he – she – was doing it again.

"Yeah, well...thanks again for watching him while I run in to work," Sam managed.

Patsy looked up from where she had been watching the boys play. "Of course, dear. I'll keep an eye out for Scott, too."

Sam had no idea who Scott was, but she played it safe, giving a weak smile and an, "Okay, thanks."

Sam left the yard before Patsy could answer back, booking it to the old Impala sitting in the driveway and sinking into the worn driver's seat.

What the fuck was going on? Who was she? Where was she?

Sam hadn't seen any kind of computer in the house, but Charlotte had to have one. Though even if she did, Sam wouldn't know the password to turn it on.

There had to be a library nearby, so Sam put the keys into the ignition, turned, cringed when the car spluttered, and then backed slowly out of the driveway.

She went left down the road, staying cautious until she saw a speed limit sign. Eventually she came to the end of the road, hesitating before making another left on a whim.

It took nearly eight minutes, but Sam finally maneuvered out of the neighborhood and onto a set of busier roads, one named Elm street (so helpful) and the other Winchester avenue (slightly better). She found herself maneuvering the streets, circling the district until she spotted the familiar sign that featured a person holding a book, directing her towards the right.

The library was easy to find after that, and she parked and went in with light trepidation, the doors whooshing open in her face and guiding her into a relatively small lobby.

Stairs led upwards to the right, and slightly behind her was an elevator. A sign on the wall listed each level, the first as the lobby, the second as the adult floor, the third the children's, and the fourth the city archives.

After a moment of thought, Sam shifted her shoulders, cringing under the feeling of bra straps digging into her skin, and started climbing the stairs.

They were steep, and it didn't help that the summer heat made them muggy as well, leading her to have to pause at the top of the landing and take a breath, heart racing. Sam nearly put a hand over her heart until she remembered that she probably should be keeping her hands down at all times.

The second-floor door creaked as she pressed it open, and Sam winced, poking her head in. Seeing that it was totally dead – everyone was probably at work, now that she thought about it – Sam stepped inside, shoving her hands awkwardly into her jeans pockets and glancing around.

It was split up on the floor, the left-half filled to the brim with books and the other half with books lining the walls and plush chairs scattered along. Sam headed in that direction, breathing out a sigh of relief when she found the computers lining the other parts of the walls, dividers between them. Only one person was there, at the far end, an older man who looked like he'd rather be doing anything other than be there.

There was a librarian sitting behind the desk, jotting something down on paper, and Sam opted not to bother him, instead sinking down into the closest swivel chair and toggling the mouse on the screen.

A box popped up, asking for her library card number, and Sam cursed in her head, moving to dig through the purse that she had grabbed on the way out the door.

It was cluttered with a million different things – crayons, tissues, a small first aid kit, a checkbook, a paperback novel, and, way at the bottom, a fuchsia wallet.

Sam pulled it out and unzipped it, flipping open the sides and beginning to thumb through the card holders, bypassing the million store discount cards and finding the library card tucked away behind a Starbuck's gift card.

She typed in the number as it appeared on the card and breathed a soft sigh of relief when the screen lit up with the pre-programmed internet browser, leading her to Google.

From that point, Sam didn't really know where to go. What did she look for first? Body switching stories? Nearby spell casters?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for just another moment before she did the only thing that made sense.

Where am I?

She clicked Enter, and the tiny button in the top of the screen asked to know her location. She hit yes instantly and the browser flickered, pulling up the library address moments later.

Montana. She was in Montana.

That certainly explained the Southern-ish accent Patsy had, but it didn't explain why Charlotte herself didn't.

Montana was...how far was Montana from Philadelphia, actually? She typed it in carefully, making sure to get the town name right, and clicked search again.

2,000 miles. 32 hours by car. 195 by bike.

Sam cussed softly and thumped her head into her hand, staring at the screen. Her job was going to be wondering where she was, what she was doing, she was going to be fired. Unless...

Sam sat straight up and logged off the computer, bolting from her chair and back into the stairwell, flying down the steps and stopping in the lobby, whipping out her phone and dialing her own cellphone number from memory.

The line rang several times and Sam paced the entry, gnawing on a thumb. Finally, after four rings, there was a confused, "Hello?"

That was her – his – voice speaking to her. "Um...is this...is this Charlotte, by any chance?" Sam squeaked.

A long pause, and then a whispered, "Holy shit," came through the line.

Sam managed a weak chuckle. "Hi."

Charlotte, who was in his – her? - body, laughed, though it sounded forced. "Hi, Sam. That's...that's your name, right? Jesus Christ, I got yelled at by a strange woman this morning for not being up in time to go to work and – oh my god is Blake okay, is he-?"

"Blake is fine," Sam got out, sinking down onto a random chair in the lobby and leaning her head into her hand. Her heart was pounding. "He's with uh...with Patsy. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah," Charlotte breathed. It was weird to hear Sam's voice coming out of the speaker. "Yeah, that's the normal arrangement. Looks like you have more figured out than I do."

"My housekeeper's name is Moira," Sam found herself saying, shoulders relaxing from their tensed position as she talked about the less confusing parts of life. "She's really great. She probably won't look at you weird if you ask odd questions."

"Noted. Um...Patsy is a bit nosier? But Blake is really smart, if you need help with something just ask him."

"He seems like a smart kid," Sam said, realizing that she was already very fond of the kid.

She could hear Charlotte's smile in his next words. "Yeah, he is. He...he'll be okay with you, right?"

Sam frowned, the nervousness coming through the line loud and clear. "Of course. Seriously, I love kids. They're great. I actually..."

She huffed and glanced away, eyebrows furrowing. "I actually made a stupid wish last night, that I wanted to...you know, have kids, see what it was like to...to be a mom. As dumb as that sounds."

There was hesitation in her voice, but also a challenge, like Sam expected Charlotte to fight her. Instead, Charlotte seemed to gasp. "That's...pretty much what I wished for last night. Except I wanted...I wanted to be able to just exist, be seen as me, not just...a female lawyer."

Sam frowned, gears twisting in her head. "So...we both made wishes last night. Mine was on a shooting star-"

"Same. Sam, you're not really suggesting...?"

"What other explanation is there, Charlotte?"

There was a long silence, and then Charlotte breathed out. "So what do we do then? I don't know about you, but I made that wish in the moment. I...as good looking as you are, Sam, I do not want to spend the rest of my life in a man's body."

"Fair point. Ditto goes for you," Sam admitted, shifting her weight in the chair. "Like, you're beautiful, and Blake is great, but this is...not very comfortable for me. Plus I'm sure you want your son back."

"Of course," Charlotte murmured.

Sam frowned, tapping her fingers on her knees. "Well...if we changed by wishing on a shooting star, what if we do it the same way?"

"How do you mean?"

"What if we find another shooting star and just...wish to be back to normal?"

Charlotte hummed, and there was a clattering sound in the background. Sam winced, and Charlotte chuckled nervously. "Sorry," she grumbled. "Your hair dryer is...really confusing."

"Green button for cold air, red for hot," Sam said instantly, before freezing. "Wait, did you...shower?"

"...yes?"

Sam squawked and Charlotte stammered in her ear. "I'm sorry, but you just...damn, Sam, when was the last time you really showered? You did not smell good. Jesus, I didn't look or touch anything if that's what you're freaking about. Hell, I'm sure you've taken a fair gander at me."

There was bitterness in his voice, and Sam instantly got defensive. "Excuse you, I didn't fucking look at anything. I saw that I had boobs and freaked. I'm not an asshole, Charlotte. I got dressed without looking – by the way, bras fucking suck – and I haven't even taken a piss yet. Jesus."

She scowled and almost considered hanging up the phone, but Charlotte spoke before she could. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I'm just really used to..."

"Guys being douchebags, right?" Sam muttered.

"Yeah," Charlotte admitted, his voice apologetic. "My ex is...not a good guy. Watch out for him."

Sam frowned, eyebrows crinkling, and she sat up in her seat. "Scott?"

"Yeah, how did you-?"

"Patsy mentioned him, when I dropped Blake off. I...you don't want him near him?"

"No. He's not abusive," Charlotte explained slowly. "At least, not physically. But...I won a settlement a while back, a pretty large amount, and 90 percent of it went into Blake's college fund. The rest of it is in my savings, but he feels like he's entitled to it, for being Blake's father."

"So you don't have to have this shitty flip phone?"

"Seriously, that's all you got out of this?"

"No," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. "I'll keep him away from Blake, promise."

"Thank you," Charlotte said, voice filled with relief. "Um...so back to this shooting star business...what if it only works because we wish at the same time? Like what if you see a star and I don't, or vice versa?"

"Good point," Sam muttered. Her nails dug into her jeans, and she paused while the older male patron from upstairs passed her, giving her a brief once over before leaving the building. "Well...fly out here."

"What?"

"I've got plenty of extra funds that you could easily take a flight out here. Plus, then you could see Blake."

Charlotte hesitated, and Sam could almost hear him thinking. "Are...are you sure?"

"Yeah. Have Moira take off work for you."

"Oh...okay. Speaking of work...I'm assuming you didn't go in today."

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding. Her legs were starting to cramp, so she stood and walked towards the door, holding the phone to her ear.

"The case...went to Johnson?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

Sam froze, guilt coiling in his stomach. "That's not a good thing, is it?"

"No, no, it's not your fault, you would have been useless anyway, it's just...we're both up for the same promotion. Ugh. Okay, here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna get Moira to call off for you for a week, buy a plane ticket, and fly out there. You call in, say that you're sick or that Blake is sick, and offer to take all the cases home in order to work on them. I'll do the cases for you, and we can...figure this out."

Sam nodded. It was the first solid plan she'd heard since waking up that morning. "Okay. Okay, that works."

The doors whooshed open, letting her out, and Sam glanced up in time to catch the old guy from inside leering at her. He caught her eye, winked, made a lude gesture with his closed fist and tongue, and Sam quickened her pace, rage filling her core. "I'm gonna fucking murder him."

"Who?"

She had forgotten that Charlotte was still on the line. "Uh...I'm at the library. This gross old guy. I'm going to deck him."

"No."

"What?"

"You can't," Charlotte said, his voice filled with regret. "Being an attorney means that if you get into legal trouble, I could lose credibility. Or my job. Or my license. Being a woman means that if you punch him, he punches back, and it doesn't end well for you. Ignore him and walk away."

"Walk away? He just made like...a sucking gesture at me!"

"It happens. Walk away, Sam."

Sam did as Charlotte asked, sliding into her seat and slamming the door shut. "Jesus fuck."

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

Sam took a deep breath and her shoulders slumped. She leaned back against the seat. "Yeah. Yeah, it does. Okay. Um, I don't know how charged your phone is, so I’m...hopefully I can find my way back to your house."

"All of my login codes are taped to the inside of the bedside drawer," Charlotte informed her.

Sam found himself smiling. "Mine are taped under my desk."

"Thanks. Give...give Blake a hug for me, okay? I'll text when I'm about to fly out."

"Will do. Bye, Charlotte."

"Bye, Sam."

She found the house again after only a few mishaps, pulling into the driveway and shutting the car off, taking a deep breath and dragging her hands down her face. Jesus fucking Christ, what had she gotten herself into? It was just a wish, how was she supposed to know that it would actually come true?

Sam kept trying to tell herself that it was all a dream, but when she got out of the car, the sun burned the car under her touch, the gravel under her feet got in her shoes and stung, the rose bushes at the edge of Patsy's yard prickled her skin. She would have woken up now if she was in a dream, would have had some kind of weird addition to everything, like the sky turning purple or Benedict Cumberbatch crawling out of the house windows.

It wasn't a dream.

She had to keep telling herself that as she climbed Patsy's porch steps, shifting from foot to foot as she pressed the doorbell.

The door opened a moment later and Patsy looked at her, befuddled. "Since when do you ring the doorbell?" she demanded incredulously.

"Uh...sorry. Was a little lost in thought, not thinking," Sam fumbled, shooting her a sheepish smile.

Patsy tilted her head, and now that Sam wasn't quite so confused about who she was or what the hell was going on, she could better appreciate Charlotte's next-door neighbor.

She was plump around the middle, and yet she was tall, which Sam found an endearing combination. Her hair, an ashy blonde color, was drawn back into a loose braid that fell over her shoulder. She was wearing jeans and a floral blouse, and there was paint covering her hands. Her feet were bare, and her eyes glittered a deep green color in the sun. There was a pair of glasses resting on top of her head, which Sam also found kind of cute, and a smattering of light freckles along her nose and cheeks.

“Are you coming in?” Patsy asked. “The boys are finger painting.”

That explained the hands. Sam shifted. “Um...sure.”

Sam followed Patsy inside, taking in the interior of the house. It was laid out much the same way as Charlotte’s, with low ceilings and wide rooms. The front door led into the living room, with a staircase off to the left. Patsy crossed through the living room, picking her way over scattered toys, and Sam took her time following, eyeing the pictures on the wall.

Similar to Charlotte, there were a lot of photos of her son on the walls. But unlike Charlotte, Patsy clearly had good relationships with Patrick’s father, given that he was in the majority of the photos.

That thought made Sam a little sad, though she couldn’t quite place why.

Her train of thought was lost when her foot caught on a toy train and she squawked, flailing to the floor with a thud and a groan. Patsy was at her side in moments, eyes wide. “Oh gosh, are you okay?” she breathed.

“Fine, fine,” Sam grumbled, allowing Patsy to grab her by the hand. “I just...trip when I get distracted.”

“What distracted you?”

Sam frowned and nodded to the family photo as they stood up, twisting her lips up. “Just that picture,” she explained.

Patsy’s face slumped a bit, and Sam lifted an eyebrow in confusion. She didn’t notice. “Oh. Yeah. It’s...coming up on a year now. Patrick’s been kinda sad lately. Blake helps a lot, so it’s nice to have him over.”

Sam really didn’t have a good response to that, seeing as she had no idea what Patsy was talking about. She settled for wrapping a hesitant arm around her shoulders and giving her a side hug. Women did side hugs, right?

Patsy leaned into it and sighed, so at the very least Sam had gotten that right. She found herself speaking again. “Let’s go see the boys, mm?”

Patsy nodded and Sam let her lead the way through the living room and into the dining room, where the boys were sitting around the table. It was covered in newspapers, and they were absolutely covered in paint. Blake was in the midst of flinging a glob of paint onto his piece of paper, which was dripping with reds and blues, when he saw the adults in the doorway.

“Mommy!” he squealed, flinging his hands up.

Sam watched in mild horror as the paint left his fingers and splattered into the ceiling, leaving a dripping blue mass on the otherwise pristine white paint. Sam looked at Patsy slowly, who had a hand over her mouth, and breathed out a weak, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Patsy said after a moment, tearing her eyes away from the ceiling and turning to look at Sam. “Uh...I shouldn’t have left them alone.”

“Blake, apologize to Miss Patsy please,” Sam said, making her voice stern.

Blake at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Miss Patsy.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Patsy said, her voice warm. “Your mommy is here to pick you up, do you need help out of your smock?”

His smock was merely a large white t-shirt, or at least, what had once been a white t-shirt, and Blake squirmed out of it easily, handing it back to Patsy and then waving a cheerful goodbye to Patrick, who was eyeing the paint with a look in his eye that was too hungry for Sam’s comfort. She ushered Blake out of the house, eyeing the photos again on the way out but making sure not to trip again, and across the lawn to Charlotte’s house.

As she approached the porch, she caught sight of a larger man peeking through the windows of the house, one hand shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun and the other hand knocking on the panes. “Charlotte! I know you’re home, your car is here!”

Blake had stopped when Sam did, and his hand tightened. “Mommy, is that-?”

Charlotte’s warning rang in Sam’s ears and she scooped Blake up onto her hip without thinking, immediately turning around and quick stepping to Patsy’s house.

She had only made it several steps before there was a gleeful yell and footsteps behind her. Sam’s heart rate spiked and her forehead beaded with sweat, and she suddenly realized -

She was terrified.

Sam had never been scared of another man in her life. Well, maybe except for her father, but it was a healthy fear, the kind of fear that kept her from doing pot and drinking before it was legal.

This, though.

The palm sweating, finger trembling fear that coursed through her, the terror that she wouldn’t get out of this encounter alive, the absolute dread at the fact that Blake was in her arms and wasn’t fighting, wasn’t speaking, was instead burying his nose into her neck.

It was a terror that Sam had never felt in her existence.

She suddenly understood why women crossed the street at night.

“You taking the day off work?” the raspy voice behind her droned.

Sam took a breath and turned around, her grip tightening on Blake. “None of your business,” she snapped, but her voice shook.

The guy, who Sam just knew was Scott, smirked at the sound. “Playing hooky, eh?”

He was lean but tall, with clear build to his upper body. A pack of cigarettes poked from his shirt pocket, and he had a ragged beard and mustache. His hair was unkempt and greasy, slicked back into a weak bun on top of his head. The jeans he wore were tattered, the shoes more so, and he smelled like tobacco and body odor. Sam could practically taste it on her tongue.

“Just leave,” Sam bit off.

Her grip was almost too tight on Blake, but she refused to let him go, to let him look up. Scott scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. That didn’t reassure her.

“Look, ‘m just here to ask if you could loan me like...fifty bucks. Y’know I don’t want more than that.”

“Except if I give it to you you’ll keep coming back,” Sam spat, her entire body trembling with rage. “That money is for Blake’s college fund.”

“Hell, the boy is four years old! He ain’t going to college for more than a decade. What’s fifty bucks gonna hurt?”

“She said no.”

Sam almost groaned in relief at the sound of Patsy’s voice. The woman stood on her porch, phone in hand, and her eyes were narrowed. “Don’t make me call my sister again.”

Sam had no idea who her sister was, but it seemed to piss Scott off. His eyes glinted with anger and he took a step back. “Y’all are bitches. Can’t even help a boy’s father out.”

“You are not his father,” Patsy spat. “You’re a fucking dick is what you are.”

Sam winced, clinging closer to Blake and lifting a hand to cover his ears. He didn’t seem to be listening much, though. Sam could feel the dampness on her shirt where the tears were leaking in, and it pissed her off.

“Get off my property, Scott,” Patsy threatened. “Or my sister and the whole fucking police department will be on your ass the rest of your life.”

“Fuck both of you,” Scott snapped.

He flipped them off and left the yard, and Sam heard a vague sound that reminded her of someone kicking a car. That explained the beat-up appearance of the Impala, at least.

Footsteps behind her, and then Patsy was at her side, a gentle hand on her elbow and the other hand running it’s fingers through Blake’s hair. “Want me to call my sister?”

“It’s okay,” Sam stammered out. She loosened her grip on Blake just enough that he could shift in her grasp. “Thank you.”

“Of course, love. Call me if he comes back, mm’k?”

“I will.”

Sam crossed the yard again and went up the porch to Charlotte’s house, unlocking the door and then shutting and re-locking it behind her. She sat down on the couch, let go of Blake fully, and suddenly realized just how badly she was shaking. “You okay?” she found herself asking Blake.

Blake bobbed his head, looking up at her with wide, teary eyes. “You said the bad guy wouldn’t come back.”

Sam winced at the crack in his words and she brushed his hair from his face in what she hoped was a soothing manner. “I’m sorry. Sometimes bad people don’t know when to stay away. Here. How about you go change into something without paint all over it, and then we can spend the day...watching cartoons and eating popcorn?”

Blake stared at her. “Popcorn for lunch?”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay!”

All worries gone, he bolted up the stairs and Sam sighed, pulling out her cell and lifting Charlotte’s - or rather, her – contact from the recent calls history. She put it into a text and for a moment couldn’t remember how to type on a flip phone.

The habit came back pretty quickly though, and she managed to send out a somewhat coherent text.

Saw Scott. Blake is fine. When r u coming?

The phone buzzed in her hand a moment later and Sam answered the phone, glancing to the stairs. “Hi, Charlotte.”

“Blake’s okay?” was his immediate question.

“Yes,” Sam said, nodding even though Charlotte couldn’t see it. “Patsy got rid of him by threatening to call...her sister?”

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. “Her sister is the chief of police. Good. To answer your question, I’ve booked the soonest flight. I’ll actually be out there tonight. If you could...pick me up? Is that weird?”

“Maybe a little,” Sam admitted with a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll look up how to get to the airport and everything. You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Moira seems...suspicious. And your boss was surprisingly chill with you taking like a week off.”

“He’s a chill guy.”

“Seems like.”

They lapsed into awkward silence, until a small thump from upstairs brought Sam back into focus. “What happened with Patsy’s husband?”

“What?” That clearly hadn’t been what Charlotte was expecting.

“Her husband. She got all teary eyed, said Patrick was upset and stuff.”

“Oh. He uh...he was in the military, and he got killed in combat around this time last year. It’s been pretty hard for them.”

Sam wilted a bit at that declaration. “That’s awful.”

“She doesn’t like to be reminded of it.”

“Mommy, I’m reeeeaadddddyyyyyy!”

Sam snorted and shook her head. “All right. When does the flight get in tonight?”

“It said around 8. So...I guess I’ll see you then?” Charlotte asked.

“You’ll see yourself then,” Sam teased.

“Right. Jesus Christ, this is so weird.”

“Preaching to the choir.”

The directions to the airport fluttered on Sam’s lap. It had taken her almost ten minutes to figure out how to do up Blake’s car seat, and now she was sitting in the pickup lane at the airport, scouring the crowds for – well, her own face.

It was a trippy experience to say the least, and Sam already had whiplash. In less than 24 hours she had gone from a simple man to a single mother of a toddler who was a fucking lawyer across the country.

Some warbled voice filtered across the loudspeaker outside, one that Sam couldn’t understand, and she glanced up in time to see herself – himself? - step out of the exit, her old duffle bag clutched in hand.

He was looking around, a bit anxious, and Sam had to cringe at the outfit Charlotte had elected to put on. Khakis and plaid? Really?

Sam hesitated and then beeped twice, watching as he turned towards the sound and slumped in relief. He rushed forwards, pulled open the passenger side door, and froze.

“Sorry,” he breathed after a minute, managing a weak smile. He tossed the duffle onto the floor and slid into the car. “That was...just a little freaky.”

Sam hadn’t taken her eyes off him. “Trust me, I know.”

Charlotte glanced back at Blake, who had drifted off in his car seat, and visibly relaxed. ”He’s okay.”

“I told you he would be,” Sam grumbled, pulling into traffic.

Charlotte huffed and looked forward. “I know. Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, until finally Charlotte squirmed. “It’s faster to take Mapleton.”

“Okay.”

Sam switched lanes and turned left, easing the car onto the smaller road and then sighing. “Look, this won’t end well if we’re awkward with each other. Especially because Blake will probably pick up on it and ask us five thousand questions. So...how should we go about the next few days?”

Charlotte hummed, pulling out Sam’s smart phone and squinting at it. “I don’t know how you use this thing,” he admitted. “But...when we get back, we could look up the star patterns, see how that goes.”

“Works for me,” Sam decided.

“Right here.”

They got back with minimal effort, Sam unbuckling Blake while Charlotte shifted behind her. When Sam lifted him into her arms, Charlotte frowned. “Why can’t-?”

“How would he feel if he woke up in the arms of a stranger?”

Charlotte sighed and shook his head. “Right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Sam said quietly as she opened the door and stepped aside, letting Charlotte pass. “He’s your kid, you’re allowed to be worried about him. You have a lot more to be worried about than I do.”

“Moira seems to care about you a lot, though,” Charlotte whispered, dropping his bag at the edge of the couch. “She’s a good person.”

“Yeah, she is,” Sam said, her voice fond.

Blake shifted in her grasp, blinking blearily at Charlotte. “Mommy, who’s’at?” he grumbled, rubbing at his eye with a fist.

“That’s...Sam,” Sam said, eyes shooting to Charlotte with a weak grin. “He’s gonna be staying with us for a little while. He’s working on some stuff here.”

“Mm’k,” Blake yawned. “Can I go to bed now?”

Charlotte chuckled, voice low. “You must be really tuckered out if you’re asking to go to bed.”

“Me n Mommy watched a whole buncha movies today.”

“Did you now?” Charlotte said, his tone indicating that he didn’t like that.

Sam winced. “Yup. Let’s get you to bed, buddy.”

When she returned to the main floor, she found Charlotte in the kitchen, holding the burned toaster in hand. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. “I wasn’t even gone for 24 hours!”

Sam scowled. “To be fair, it’s been a pretty fucked up day. If it wasn’t for Patsy I would have decked your ex.”

Charlotte slumped, putting the toaster down. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. He thinks that because he’s Blake’s father he’s entitled to everything that I have. Patsy is a real blessing sometimes.”

“Yeah. She’s pretty great.”

Sam hadn’t realized that her voice was fond when she said it, but when Charlotte leaned over, an eyebrow quirked on his face, she froze. “What?”

“Don’t you go getting a crush on my friend. All I know about you is that you respond to catcalling with violence and that you somehow caught my toaster on fire.”

Sam spluttered out a protest, but Charlotte wasn’t listening. “I’ll take the couch, so that way-”

“It’s your bed.”

Charlotte glanced up, an eyebrow raised, and Sam gave a weak smile. “I’ll...I’ll take the couch. It’s okay.”

“What about Blake?”

“It’ll be okay. Seriously, go ahead.”

Charlotte eyed her slowly and then tilted his head. “All right. Keep an eye out on your weather app for any potential meteor showers or anything, though.”

“Will do.”

Over the next week, Charlotte and Sam put their full efforts into researching falling and shooting stars. Sam went into the law firm dressed in a scarf and fake sneezing into her hand, picked up the cases that Charlotte asked for, and brought them back. He worked on those during the day while Sam ran errands, dropped Blake off at Patsy’s, and researched.

The more Sam got to know Patsy, the more she had to admit that Charlotte might be right.

The first clue was when Patsy “met” Charlotte for the first time. Sam saw the once over she gave him, saw the quirk in her lips, and envy settled low in her gut.

Envy. That this woman was ogling HERSELF.

The second clue was when Sam caught herself smiling as the woman giggled at a joke she had made, her stomach fluttering a bit as Patsy covered her mouth to cover her laughter. It was a shame, really; she had such a lovely laugh.

The revelation that she genuinely found Patsy attractive and funny and wonderful came almost five days after Charlotte had gotten back.

Blake had become very attached to him, calling him “Uncle Sam” whenever they were together. Sam could tell that it hurt Charlotte a little, that he was struggling not to do the cutesy things with Blake that he’d like to be doing, and that made her work harder to find the right time to switch back.

To hopefully switch back.

Because really, they didn’t know if their plan would work. Didn’t know if it was all a fluke, if they would ever truly be themselves again.

Hell, sometimes Sam still expected to wake up from a dream.

The sixth night after Charlotte had gotten back, after they had put Blake to sleep, they were researching once more. Sam had convinced Charlotte to dip into the savings just a little bit and buy a smartphone to replace the old flip phone, and he had consented upon realizing that it wasn’t actually as expensive as he thought it was.

At least, when he stayed away from Apple it wasn’t.

Around 9:30, Charlotte sat up and slapped Sam on the shoulder. “There’s a meteor shower around 3 am tonight.”

“What?”

Charlotte looked up, eyes glinting, and Sam started grinning. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

They both whooped and high fived.

They had gotten much closer over the last few days. Charlotte had stopped worrying that Sam would be a bad influence on or hurt Blake in any way. He had seen how good she was with him, and slowly his fears had dissipated. Sam had confided in Charlotte about the fear that she had felt when Scott had confronted her and Blake, and Charlotte had guided her through that fear, made her feel better about the whole situation.

Packing up their equipment, Sam suddenly realized how much she was going to miss both of them. Charlotte and Blake had become like family she never really had.

Sure, her parents were still alive. But she never saw them, and she was an only child. Charlotte had become what she suspected a sister was like, Blake like a nephew, and Sam wasn’t sure she was really ready to give that all up.

Not to mention, Patsy and Patrick.

Though she hadn’t gotten to know Patrick quite as well, he was a great, empathetic kid. And Patsy herself was an amazing, tough woman. Leaving them would be almost as hard, if not harder, than leaving Charlotte and Blake.

“Sam?”

She looked at Charlotte, eyes wide, and blinked. “Yeah?”

Charlotte frowned, his fingers tightening on the back of his chair. “You okay? You seem a bit lost there.”

“I...was just thinking about how I don’t really want to leave.”

Charlotte looked taken aback, and then slowly he smiled. “I don’t think Blake really wants you to go either. He really likes you. Or at least, my version of you. Plus Patsy has been eyeing you all over the place.”

“She has?”

“Geez, have you not been wearing my glasses? Hell yeah she has.”

Sam flushed and looked at the floor, eyebrows furrowing. Charlotte took the silence as invitation to keep speaking. “I mean...there is a house for sale down the street. It’s certainly not as fancy as yours, but you definitely have the money to drop on it. And I’m sure Moira would love to get out of Philly.”

Sam whipped her head up. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. I can tell she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t seem like a city girl.”

Sam hummed, a smile twitching on her lips, and Charlotte put a hand on her shoulder. “Just think about it, eh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

3 am came too quickly. They were outside at 2:30, just in case, sitting on the front porch steps and staring out into the skyline.

Living in a big city her whole life, Sam had never really had the chance to truly appreciate the stars. Now, out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, Montana, the city pollution was low, and the town that Charlotte lived in didn’t have much light pollution.

The sky was littered with stars, glittering and flickering along the skyline. Sam had seen the usual constellations of course; the Big Dipper, Ursa Major, Orions Belt. But out here, she couldn’t see those, could see constellations that she had never seen before, ones that she couldn’t even name.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured out loud, flushing after she realized she had spoken.

Charlotte, who was cupping a mug of coffee in his hands, tossed her a small smile. “Isn’t it? I was only in Philly one day, but...damn, how do you stand the noise?”

“I just...grew up with it,” Sam said with a shrug. “It’s never really something I realized I could live without.”

“Mmm.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, staring up at the stars.

“Why did you make the wish?” Charlotte asked suddenly. “To be a woman, I mean. A mother, specifically.”

Sam fidgeted, taping her fingers against her arms. “I...I thought it might be better. Mentally, somehow. I wanted a kid of my own, but I didn’t have that opportunity. I just wanted to know...how you felt, I guess.”

Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, and Sam shot him a look. “What about you?”

“Truthfully?”

Sam nodded.

“I wanted to stop being treated like a pair of tits and more like the lawyer I actually am. And I...raising Blake is tough. He’s an amazing kid, but sometimes there’s only so much you can handle.”

“I get that,” Sam said softly.

“I miss him, though,” Charlotte murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. “My boy. I also...dicks are really uncomfortable.”

Sam chuckled, clapping a hand over her mouth. “I could say the same about boobs,” she said with a laugh.

Charlotte grinned and shook his head. “All women agree with you on that, trust me.”

Silence again, eyes turning back to the sky, and Sam’s breath hitched. “There,” she whispered, pointing.

A single star, or more likely, a comet, streaked across the sky, and the duo looked at one another.

They closed their eyes, wishes unspoken, and after a long minute, opened them ago, still the same.

“It didn’t work,” Charlotte said sadly.

“Not yet,” Sam remembered. “We fell asleep the first time, right?”

“Right.”

They stood, regarded each other, and then went inside to go to bed.

Sam passed out on the couch and woke up in bed, staring at the ceiling with perfectly clear vision. For a moment, he thought he had fallen asleep with Charlotte’s glasses.

And then he felt the soothing comfort of his old flannel pajama pants, the lack of awkward weight on his chest, and he sat up, lifting a hand to his face to find morning stubble scratching at his fingers.

“Shit,” he muttered, and it was his terrible, stinky morning voice he was speaking with.

He whooped and leapt out of bed, sprinting down the hall and flying down the stairs to find Charlotte sitting up on the couch, staring at her hands with a small smile on her face. She looked up at him and gave him a thumbs up and he tilted his head, running for the door.

“Where are you going?” Charlotte demanded, voice baffled.

“I’m a dude and Patsy is straight!” he shouted back at her.

Her laughter followed him out the door and he darted across the yard, cursing at the cold dew on his bare feet and pattering up Patsy’s front stoop quickly.

He was breathless as he hit the doorbell, and she answered a moment later, eyes tired, a robe on, and a coffee mug in hand. Her eyes glazed over him once, twice, and she lifted a brow.

Sam was suddenly very aware that he was only wearing a tank top. “Uh...morning.”

“You’re not wearing shoes,” Patsy noted, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Sam smiled sheepishly. “I uh...I know. I just...had the urge to come over here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Would you maybe...like to go to dinner? I know we don’t know each other really well, but I feel like I’ve gotten to know you this week, and you’re an amazing woman.”

Patsy’s lips quirked upwards. “Aren’t you going back home, soon?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It depends on your answer,” Sam said. He still hadn’t quite caught his breath.

Patsy leaned against the doorjamb and lifted her coffee to her lips. “Yeah,” she decided finally. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

Sam whooped, kissed her on the cheek without hesitating, and sprinted back to Charlotte’s house.

He had to call Moira. They were buying a house in Montana.

#my writing #commissions #writing commissions #oc characters #this one was tougher #mainly because sam and charlotte couldn't end up together and that threw me off a lot

7 notes · View notes

sweetredbeans · 6 years

Text

Sun and Moon

This is part one in some amount of writing in what I’m going to call my “Demon AU.”

The note from Adriel arrived on a Thursday. Roy remembered, because he had been so looking forward to Friday, and the vacation that the weekend would bring, but then Audrey brought in the mail and handed him the letter.

“It's from cousin Adriel.”

Roy eagerly opened the envelope, a smile on his face...but after reading the third line, he was pale, and before he even reached the end, he'd gotten up from the table and was getting his jacket.

“Roy? What's wrong?” Audrey asked.

“It's Adriel. There's something bad going on. I have to go see him.” He handed Audrey the note, and she skimmed it, looking equally nervous as Roy grabbed the car keys.

“Keep an eye on the kids for me—I'll call in to work and say that it was a family emergency.” He kissed her, gave her a hug, and disappeared out the door.

Three and a half hours later, he was at Adriel's. It was the old house—the one Uncle Red and Uncle Britton had built for themselves just before Addy was born. Roy remembered it vaguely, and when he stepped out of the car, what he saw was not what he remembered.

The outside of the house was in a general state of disrepair. The gardens were running wild—thorny roses and tall vines looping around each other, presenting blood-red flowers and wicked sharp prickers to anyone who dared encroach on their territory. The grass was long in some places, and almost dead in others, while the fence needed some nailing help, and a fresh coat of paint.

The house too, needed a fresh coat of paint, as Roy trotted up the front steps to the porch, his heart rising in his throat with a feeling of trepidation.

This wasn't like the Addy he knew—the fastidiously tidy boy he'd shared a room with. Addy had always liked things to be neat and in order, which the gardens certainly weren't.

Roy rang the bell. “Addy?”

There was no answer, but with his Sin hearing, Roy was pretty sure he could hear the padding of feet on carpet from distant parts of the house.

Roy felt his chest tighten, and rang the bell again, “Addy?!”

Nothing.

“Addy, I know you're here!” Roy banged on the door three times, “I have a key, if you don't let me in I'm going to come in by myself!”

As he was fumbling in his bag for said key, he heard the lock click, and the door in front of him seemed to swing open of its own volition.

“Addy?” Roy stepped in quickly, looking around.

He didn't see anything at first. The front hall of the house was dark, and the house was set back far enough from the street that not much light filtered in, so Roy had to squint into the shadows.

“Addy? Are you there?”

There was a tiny shift of movement in one of the hallways, and Roy's sharp eyes instantly fixed on it. After a moment, he could finally see Adriel's silhouette.

“Are you okay?” Roy started towards his cousin, but Adriel seemed to shrink back from him, almost like he was scared. “Addy?”

“Can you close the door?” Adriel's voice was soft and rough, like he hadn't used it in a long time.

Roy blinked, but did as his cousin asked, closing the door with a soft click. As he turned back around, Adriel had clicked on a small light on the table impossibly fast before returning to his hallway—or maybe he just had a switch there. But either way, he could now see the hallway. At least here was still clean and organized—everything in its place, everything obviously well cared for.

Except for Addy himself.

Because Roy could make out a bit of his cousin's appearance now.

Addy looked...haggard. He still had the same thick dark hair, with the pink highlights that Roy remembered, but his hair looked fluffier than normal, and greasier too. His face was lined, gaunt—definitely not the chubby cuteness of his youth. His shoulders leaned in, like he was crouching, hiding from Roy's gaze.

“Adriel...Adriel are you okay? I got your letter and...”

“I was wondering why you'd come.” Adriel's voice was still rusty, dry and squeaking like an old door.

“I came because I was worried about you, Addy,” Roy took a step forward, and Addy shrunk back again, “Adriel...please, tell me what's wrong?”

“Can't you see?” Addy looked up, almost shuffling forward a few more inches into the light.

And Roy did see.

Adriel's hair was fluffier because, poking out of it, were two nubs, two horns, a dark red color like dried blood. His eyes, normally a gorgeous turquoise, were significantly darker, although Roy couldn't tell exactly what color. But most of all, Roy saw the jet black leathery wings that swept from Adriel's shoulders almost to his feet, which had previously blended in with the dark shadows behind him.

Roy stared. He couldn't help it. And Addy shrank back into the shadows, “See?” He looked down, and cross his arms across his chest, folding up into himself and seeming to shrink before Roy's eyes.

“No, Addy, no...” this time, when Roy reached for his cousin, he didn't move away, even when Roy had a tough time hugging him around his wings—unsure whether to put his hands all the way around them or not. But he managed to slide his hands between the warm leathery wings and Addy's back, and pull his cousin close.

At least he still smelled the same—he still smelled bad. Roy almost had to smile at that. He smelled just like Marie, and although everybody else always said that the two of them had smelled like cake and cotton candy and spun sugar, Roy and Miles had never thought so. And he still smelled exactly the same.

“Addy...Addy...what's going on?”

Addy pulled back, stepping out of Roy's embrace, “I think you know as well as I do.”

“I don't know...do I?”

“Exactly.” Addy smiled at Roy, but it didn't reach his eyes, didn't even touch his hollow cheeks, and almost instantly turned into a grimace, “I don't know. The best I can assume is it's some demon thing. And that's the best you can assume too.” His voice was matter-of-fact, but Roy could hear anguish underneath it, could hear the cracks in Adriel's heart.

“When—when did it happen?”

“Not all at once. Bit by bit, piece by piece...at first I could hide it, and then I couldn't.” Addy looked up, and now Roy was close enough to see the ring of red around his cousin's pupils.

And also close enough to see the deep, dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Have you been sleeping?”

Addy barked what might in another world have maybe been considered a laugh, “It's a little hard to sleep when all you can imagine is a mob barging into your house with torches and pitchforks to kill the monster.” He practically spat the last word, snarling, and Roy was pretty sure that his teeth were sharper than he remembered too.

But he wasn't worried about that right now.

“You. Are going to bed.”

Addy blinked at him, “What?”

“You. Are going to bed. I will keep watch over everything; I will keep you safe, just like I always have, okay? And when you wake up, we'll figure out how to fix it.”

“We can't—!”

“Hush.” Roy put a finger to Addy's lips, and gave him his practically patented golden smile, “Get sleep first, okay?”

“I...” but Roy gave him a look that reminded Addy just how futile arguing with his older cousin always was, and fell silent. “Okay.”

He slowly turned and headed for the stairs, wings whooshing softly behind him as he went, “There's food in the fridge,” he half turned on the landing, “Thanks...Roy.”

Roy did, indeed, go looking through the fridge, which had more than food—it practically had a banquet. Meat dishes and sauteed vegetables and a loaf of bread with butter, but most of all stacks of cakes and pastries and desserts. Exactly as Roy would have imagined; and exactly how their fridge used to look when they were younger, except that Marie would always insist everything that could be pink WAS pink, and here there was a lot less curly pink frosting.

He made himself up a plate, and wandered through the ground floor as he nibbled, careful not to spill but also curious about everything. The house didn't look very lived in, at least not most of it. The dining room was pristine, although there was a light layer of dust on the side table, but all the other rooms on the first floor looked like they could be straight out of an unused house catalog, if such a thing existed. The one exception was the front living room, where the television was. The couch there was well-loved, and piled high with fluffy comforters and blankets—and books. Dozens of them. It was obviously where Addy spent a lot of his time.

Roy had just picked up a book—something that looked like a trashy romance novel, which was always Adriel's favorite genre, even when they were kids, and he'd been teased mercilessly about it until Miles and Marie had threatened to beat up anybody who said anything about it again—when Adriel started screaming.

Roy sprinted up the stairs, almost running into the wall on the landing as he skidded around the corner. He didn't know which room was really Addy's, but he followed the screaming, practically diving into the room.

It was obviously Addy's—done up entirely in his color scheme, and full of things Roy recognized—but he didn't worry about that. He worried about Adriel, who was sitting bolt upright in bed, eyes wide and unseeing, mouth open wide in a face of absolute terror.

“Addy! Addyaddyaddy,” Roy practically jumped at him, grabbing his hands, “Addy, wake up, please wake up, it's okay!”

Addy took a deep breath, but then some sort of realization flashed over his face as he stared at Roy.

“Addy?”

Adriel took another deep breath, and then collapsed into Roy, his screams having turned into ragged, aching sobs as he clutched at Roy's shirt.

Roy wrapped his arms around his distraught cousin, and rocked him gently back and forth, “Shhh...shhh Addy it's okay...it's okay, everything's all right...” He wasn't even sure what he was saying, just that it was murmurs of comfort. He could feel a damp spot in his shirt from Addy's tears.

Slowly, Addy's sobs began to subside, but soft distraught whimpers continued for a long time. Long enough that Roy's eyes landed on the beside table. There was a CD there, sitting in a little miniature CD player, one that he remembered from their childhood.

Carefully, so that he didn't disturb Addy's quiet sniffles, he patted down the lid of the player, and pressed play. Instantly, the distinctive sound of Michael Buble's “L.O.V.E.” jingled from the miniature speaker.

“Do you remember?” Roy laughed quietly to himself, reaching to stroke Addy's hair, “I always used to make fun of your taste in music—you still have terrible taste Addy.” It had always been in jest, just kids games and teasing all in the best of fun.

“B-but,” Addy's voice was still strained, and muffled in Roy's shirt, “B-but you always listened w-with me anyways.”

Roy smiled, “I did. You forced me to.”

“Mn nn,” Addy shook his head once, messing up his already fluffy hair.

He was right. Roy could definitely sing along to this song, still, and he did.

“L...is for the way you loooook at me...O...is for the only one, I seeeee.”

And then Addy's voice joined in, still very wavery, “V is very, very...eeeextra ordinary. Love, was made for me and youuuu.”

The song jingled off, and Addy giggled softly, a sound that made Roy sigh with relief, “You still sing that slightly off key.”

Roy laughed, and ruffled Addy's hair, “You know I didn't—and you know I haven't since I was eleven and you made me learn it the right way.”

Addy finally emerged from hiding in Roy's shirt. He still looked tired, but his eyes were actually shining slightly, “Mhmm, I know.”

He yawned, and Roy booped him on the nose, “Go back to sleep Addy.”

His cousin's eyes widened, and he instantly looked scared again, “I don't want to...I'll have nightmares again, I know I will...”

“I'll stay right here, Addy, okay? If you start having a nightmare, I'll wake you right up, and we can listen to your stupid romantic music until everything is okay again, all right?”

Addy blinked, but he slowly nodded and lay back down. Roy curled up next to him, just like they had when they were kids (except they'd fit on the bed better back then—now Roy's feet stuck off the bed at an awkward angle, but he didn't mind.

Almost instantly, Addy's eyelashes fluttered shut, and his breathing leveled out, and in mere moments, he was asleep again—which told Roy just how absolutely exhausted his cousin must be.

He smiled softly, and brushed Addy's hair away from his eyes, “I'll stay right here.”

After a little while, Roy drifted off too, but it didn't matter because Addy slept soundly through the night and didn't have a single nightmare.

#there's going to be at least one more part #maybe more #I've got Plot for this #and I like writing about Pure #they're cute

8 notes · View notes

roedusk · 4 years

Text

Maalraas Pt3 (Knol and Savage)

I’m not sure how much I like this part and it’s entirely unedited, but I figure I’ll come back an edit it later. (Beware of autocorrect and typos.)

Getting Savage onto the Maalraas was an adventure. The selcath were able to help her get him onto a hover stretcher in the wider spaces of the observation room, but the more cramped corridors of a starship weren't exactly planned with two meters of prone Zabrak in mind. It took some creative force usage, but Knol was finally able to get him into the bunk room on the end of the hall, where she'd be between him and the rest of the ship if necessary. There'd already been an oversized bunk inside, fortunately, and a few more careful force lifts got the kid settled in without too much jostling. Then she disassembled the stretcher and packed it away in their new portable med pack. As a final touch she tucks him in with the duvet from the sailer.

"You good there for a bit, Savage? Anything I should do or anything you'd like me to get before I go? Not sure how long it's going to take to get out of the atmosphere and into hyperspace once we get going."

"No, I will be fine," the Zabrak insists, voice steady in spite of the wrinkle of pain on his forehead. Knol considers him for a moment before deciding she should take him at his word. A final force-prod to reassure herself he wasn't hiding an injury before she nods and heads for the cockpit.

Orbital Control clears them for liftoff without a wait. Half an hour to the hyperlane then they were away, course set for the Phelleem Sector. The report had indicated Republic forces were gathering in the interference field surrounding the shadowy Orixon Nebula and Tae was with them.

What their ultimate goal was and even their numbers was unknown, too sensitive for even encrypted communication without due cause. And Knol didn't really need to know, she just appreciated knowing all the angles beforehand. Picking up Tae was going to be unfortunately similar to flying a mission blind.

Not to mention trying to hide a force sensitive on her ship undiscovered while tracking Tae down. Knol have herself a moment to lament just how cruel the universe was to get her stuck in this position. Then she stood up with a shrug and headed back for the cabins, it was her own fault really, not worth angsting over.

"Still doing alright, kid?" She asks as she stepped into Savage's room, only to wince as he startles awake. "Sorry, hey, Sunshine, it's fine, go back to sleep."

The Zabrak blinks suspiciously up at her, his brow deeply furrowed, and Knol can't help the amused ruffle that causes her.

"It's fine, kid, really. Was just coming to tell you we made it to the hyperlane. We'll be in hyperspace for a while now, barring any technical malfunctions. You need anything else before I let you sleep?"

Savage frowns at her for a long moment, then abruptly looks away. "No."

Knol shrugs. "I'm going to try to get some sleep then. I'll be right next door if you change your mind, just give me a poke or something. Can you do that?"

"I cannot," the Zabrak replies, looking frustrated. "I can barely move on my own, let alone reach your chamber to 'poke' you."

Knol blinks, then shakes her head quickly. "Not a physical poke, in the Force. Something like this."

She reaches out to tap at the edge of his Force presence with her own and he startles, looking up at her with wide eyes. At her smile his eyes narrow, and he tries poking her back. On his third try Knol nods, smile widening.

"That's it exactly, just like that. You poke me like that and I'll know you want my attention. If it's an emergency you can always give me a pull too."

She demonstrates and his eyes narrow even further. His answering pull is hesitant, but still obvious, and the bothan nods happily.

"Yeah, like that. Give me a yank rather than just poking me and I'll know to come running. Got it?"

"I understand," Savage agrees. His brow is still furrowed but he's back to staring at the ceiling, so Knol figures he's done with their talk.

"Alright then, sleep well, kid, and call me if you need anything."

An affirmative grunt as she leaves.

The bunk in the cabin Knol picked for herself is a more reasonable size, though she appreciates the little bit of extra room than she'd get on a Bothan sized bed. It doesn't matter much, though, she's asleep the instant she's under the covers and doesn't wake for the next six hours.

When she wakes it's to the annoying chirp of her chrono alarm. Knol almost snoozes it again when she remembers the Sith, his injuries, and the dietary supplements. Instead she forces herself out of bed and wanders into the cooking area to see if they have anything she can make into a meal.

Fortunately the Station Commander seems to have preempted her, leaving factory sealed boxes of foodstuffs stashed in the cooling unit, as well as several different kinds of drinks. They won't be reduced to surviving off rations and her newly acquired liquor collection anytime soon.

Knol rolls her eyes and makes a mental reminder to send the guy a nice thank you gift once they're safely away. Then she sets about reading all the labels, eventually grabbing a couple boxes of protien loaf. While that's heating she debates the different drinks, comparing them with the nutrition chart newly affixed to the cooler door, and snags some of the processed fruit juice cans to go with it. Laying out the supplements takes almost another 15 minutes of cross checking diagrams and pill boxes, but she's pretty sure she's got it by the time the timer goes off.

Knol grabs the tiny tablecloth on her way out, balancing the tray full of food with the Force when she has to adjust it to knock on the door.

"You awake Sunshine? I brought food."

A pause and a low sound that might have been an attempt at a reply before Savage growls. Then, gingerly, he pokes at her. Knol's fur ruffles cheerfully at that, and she lets herself in.

Savage has somehow managed to wedge himself sideways up against the wall of his bunk, his eyes catching her as soon as the door opens. He makes no move to unwind, however, and Knol can sense the undercurrent of pain even through her shields. She sets the tray down on the table and gestures at him.

"I was thinking you'd rather be sitting up for this. So I can try to help you upright or we can work on moving you to the chair. Depends on if you think you could stay upright on your own or if having the corner to lean on would be better. What do you think?"

Savage grumbles under his breath for a moment, considering his choices, then huffs. "The bunk," he growls, voice dry and raspy, and Knol winces in sympathy.

"Sounds good, then we'll get you something to drink straight away, you sound terrible." She pulls some spare pillows from the closet and does her best to arrange them into a pile with the kid's head still in the way. It's not perfect, but stays up well enough for her to awkwardly slide and force lift Savage into place. Most Zabrak at least had the decency not to be over half a meter taller than her…

Once Savage was in place she draped the tablecloth over his lap and opened one of the juices.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, but this is the healthiest drink we have at the moment, so I figured you could try it, and if it's terrible I'll get you something else. If it comes to that we also have just filtered water. Here, see if you can turn it while I hold. Once you've wet your throat we can see if you're up for holding it by yourself.

Savage only barely refrained from rolling his eyes before he nodded, so Knol chose not to mention it as she held the juice up so he could drink. After a few swallows he tilted the juice back upright and looked at her expectantly.

With a shrug Knol moved her grip to the top of the bottle, letting Savage wrap his hand around the base. Then she slowly relaxed her grip a fragment at a time. There's a muted stab of pain when she finally let's go fully, but Savage manages to keep it upright without outwardly revealing the effort it must be taking. He even manages a shaky drink by himself before Knol gently moves the tray to his lap so he can set it down.

Savage eyes the lumpy meal in front of him and wrinkles his nose. "What is this?"

"Protein Loaf," Knol admits with a shrug, taking a bite of her own and making a face. "Basically they grind up the meat really small, into something like a paste, then compact it back together before freezing it."

"Why?" The Zabrak demands, giving the loaf on his plate an extremely dubious look. "What is wrong with just smoking actual meat"

"The taste mostly," Knol guesses, "Most folks these days don't even realize meat has to come from dead animals, and they don't like having the burnt taste of smoked meat when they're trying to make dinner. While protein loaf can theoretically be any flavor you want if you have the right ingredients. You can also make it into a lot of different shapes and cook it into lots of different recipes that way. Plus it stacks better in the hold and if you have to you can eat it through a straw." She makes a face after her next bite and shrugs. "The texture is still a bit off-putting though."

Savage manages to get his fork up to his mouth without spilling and grimaces, nodding his agreement as he swallows. Then he goes for another bite. "The taste is not terrible at least."

"True, it's a mix of a lot of things but they tend to try to keep the flavor consistent," Knol explains. "I'll make you a few recipes I picked up sometime when we know your stomach can handle the oil. Need to keep your protein intake up and this should be a decent way to do that, though you'll still need the supplements for a while." She gestures to the pills on the tray and Savage frowns at them in turn, scooping them into a hand.

"Do I chew them, or…?" He glanced at her, honestly unsure. Knol shakes her head quickly.

"Just swallow them whole, they're made to release nutrients over a period of time as they dissolve."

The face he made at the taste was certainly memorable, and Knol gestured back to his loaf.

"Try some more meat to clean your tongue, then juice to while away the taste. The other way around and sometimes the Juice manages to taste worse than the meds did. There you go. Better?"

"Yes," Savage mutters struggling through another mouthful of juice before he returns to the meat.

They both eat in silence after that, and Knol paces herself to avoid it looking like Savage was falling behind. He's careful though, and manages to avoid getting almost anything on the tray. The tablecloth he manages to keep clean all together.

But he's exhausted when he's done. Knol collects the trays and the tablecloth back up, then gestures to the bed.

"Let's get you settled again before I go clean the dishes. Would you rather be on your side again? Or on your back?"

Savage's face hardens at that, and Knol can see him considering both whatever made him home into that hunched position and the pain it was putting him in to sustain it.

"I would rather see the door," he ground out finally, and Knol knew better than to ask for an explanation with that tone. She had a pretty good guess anyway.

Instead the bothan considered her pile of pillows for a moment before nodding and stepping forward. With a little maneuvering she had Savage laying down on his side again, mostly supported by the force, while she rearranged most of the pillows behind him. That done she leaned him back and gave him the last pillow to hold onto.

"Should help support your shoulder somewhat," Knol points out when he frowned at her. The kid rolls his eyes but tucks it under his arms anyway, so she's taking it as a win.

She picks up the tray and the tablecloth before turning back. "Pike me if you need anything," she reminds him, poking him for good measure.

Savage pokes her back with a grumble, "Yes."

Knol grins at him. "Good. If I don't hear from you I'll be back in an hour with something to drink. See you then."

She returns to the kitchen to clean their plates and check what she has the supplies to make once Savage is feeling better. Then she doubles back to check the estimated weekly diet tables for his recovery, just to be sure.

An hour passes quickly in the depths of research, and soon her chonomiter is going off again. She grabs a pitcher of water and a cup this time then goes to check on her guest again.

If the whole fight goes by this fast, three days won't feel like anything.

- - - - - - - - - -

Savage is both the easiest first time patient she could ask for and a terrible patient, all in one. Anything Knol asks him to do directly he obeys, but anything she's careful not to directly order him to do is up for negotiation apparently. By which she means he's struggling to sit up without help on the second day in spite of all of her suggestions, but at least he keeps taking his pills and meals when she hands them to him.

He also fails to mention any pain he is experiencing unless she asks him very specific questions, and even then he's extremely hesitant to verify anything. It makes Knol want to shake him until he understands her sometimes, though she'd never act on it. And it makes her want to track down Dooku and beat some reason into him. Maybe the Nightsisters for good measure.

But she can do none of these things. Instead she's stuck trying to figure out when Savage is going to be the most obedient prisoner ever and when he's going to use every loophole she's given him to insist on injuring himself.

Really, that selkath doctor's dig about jedi and hospitals makes a lot more sense now. She knows she's been far worse than this, and the healers all deserve medals for putting up with her.

By the third day Savage is forcing himself to stay awake after his hourly check-ins and attempting to pull himself out of bed. Knol's worried he'll eventually succeed and then end up stuck on the floor. At least there's a system in place for him to get her if he needs it, she's just still not sure he'll actually do it if she isn't tracing out to him first.

"I'm not sure what you're accomplishing, exactly." She tells him the next time she catches him leaning heavily on the bunk wall between attempts. "I mean, I understand not wanting to be on bedrest any longer than you have to, I've been there. But you and I both know that if you actually manage to push yourself out of bed you'll just end up on the floor with no way to get back up."

The kid snarls at that, gaze focused determinedly off to her left. But his grimace says he agrees with her. And all she gets when she tries to read him is the same mix of frustration and self-recrimination he's had since yesterday.

That and the undercurrent of fear that's been with him since he woke up poisoned days ago, that spikes whenever she presses him for answers. And yet she has to try.

"Come on, Sunshine, what's this about?"

Savage grits his teeth, refusing to meet her eye, before finally sighing and focusing on something near her elbow.

"I cannot simply remain unmoving and expect my body to recover functionality. If I cannot move now then I will not be able to move tomorrow. In less than a day we…" He shakes his head and starts again. "I cannot continue to rely entirely on your assistance. I must regain limited mobility, or remain a burden for you to carry or cast aside."

"That's not…," Knol cuts herself off, forces her fur flat, and sighs. "No, you're right. I can't exactly give you a reason I won't just leave you behind somewhere. Nothing I'd believe in your place, anyhow. And your body is healing, not returning to the way it was. It's true you'll need to exercise to get back into your best form. But you aren't there yet. I know it isn't comfortable, but you're going to have to wait before your body can actually take the damage a fall might cause."

In all honesty she was probably not helping. It hadn't escaped her that she was a Jedi and Savage at least currently a Sith. But in his weakened state he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight, let alone attempt to escape, so it had been much simpler to give him the benefit of the doubt than it would be if he'd been at the top of his game.

If he'd been healthy she doubted he'd have been willing to come along with her at all, even just to break his mind control. He might not even have been able to follow her in this state if Dooku hadn't abandoned him to die on Dxun.

And tomorrow they would be rendezvousing with the task force so she could look for Tae. Would she have trusted him this close to the other Jedi if he weren't as weak as a yearling cub right now?

Weak as a yearling cub, and he knew it. A Sith under a Jedi's command and completely at her mercy if she decided to turn on him.

"Look at me," Knol demanded, tapping Savage on the chin when he didn't obey. "Come on, Sunshine, look me in the eyes and listen."

He growls, hands clenched in the duvet across his lap, but yellow eyes meet hers and she nods.

"Good. Now listen, I will have to depart when we arrive, to find my contact. You are not leaving the ship. I have no intention of telling anyone you're even on-board unless things go completely sideways, but even then you are remaining here while they will be remaining outside. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he growls, his jaw tight. "And after you meet your contact?"

"With any luck we'll be taking him with us," Knol admits. "He's a padawan," She reassures Savage when he tenses. "I'm looking for his master, but they're on different missions at the moment. In the meantime I'll vouch for his conduct. If you don't do anything to harm him or me he won't do anything to hurt you."

He doesn't believe her, Knol knows. There's disbelief and fear in his eyes as he studies her face, but he nods nonetheless, choosing, at least for now, to take her at her word.

Not like he has much of a choice. And the feel of that leaves a sour taste in her mouth long after the conversation is over.

But there are no easy answers, no reassurances she can give that will be believed without proof. And proof can only come from promises kept. On both their parts.

Knol finds herself once again belatedly hoping that bringing Tae into the middle of this won't turn out to be a terrible mistake.

- - - - - - - - - -

Savage is radiating a constant background static of fear and the resulting defensive anger by the time they're breast to drop out of hyperspace the next morning, and Knol is honestly pretty concerned about him accidentally tipping off the other Jedi to his presence just with that. Not that she'd ever tell him that, it would only push him further into the depths of frustrated paranoia. At least with her promise to lock him in the ship and leave him there he's been willing to behave, no matter how grudging his belief is.

Coming out of hyperspace in the Phelleem Sector is a bit anticlimactic for all the stress it's been causing them both. There's another encrypted data file waiting for her, and Knol takes a moment to decrypt it before she continues.

Turns out since she last checked in the Republic has officially moved its staging ground to Handooine. The Jedi Commanders have moved to a listening post there to supervise the final preparations for an assault on Jabiim, bringing Tae with them.

Knol reads the report twice just to be certain of the details, then tosses the datapad into the copilot's seat and sets a course for Handooine.

With the fleet now orbiting the planet rather than hiding in the nearby nebula they pick up the Maalrass's signature long before she reaches them, sending out an identification request that's much closer to a friendly request than the bothan was expecting.

Maybe she's been out in the Outer Rim too long. Or maybe the Republic's army just hadn't been out here long enough.

There's no complications with her Council provided codes this time, the paperwork on Manaan having fully returned her to active status. A few brief questions later and they're able to give her clearance and a landing area on the outskirts of the militarization zone. Traffic control makes quick work of guiding her down and then Knol is left to finalize last-minute plans as she preps the ship for lockdown.

She hesitates by the cabins, knowing Savage is probably tracking her force signature. Even if the witches or Dooku didn't teach him that's pretty instinctive, right? Either way, leaving the ship without saying anything probably isn't the right call. Wouldn't be with any of the agents she's run ops with at least.

A thought occurs to her and she ducks into her room for a spare canteen to use as a peace offering, filling it up in the kitchen before heading back to Savage's room.

At the door she pauses, then reaches out to poke him. After a moment's hesitation he pokes her back, and she lets herself in. Inside he's already sitting upright but not trying to pull himself out of bed just yet. Knol rolls her eyes at his defensive glare and holds out the canteen.

"There should be enough water in here to last you a few hours, and the cap seals when you're not using it so you shouldn't have to worry about it leaking everywhere." The bothan demonstrates how to open the cap and how it goes back on before handing it over. "I'm about to lock up and head out to find my contact. Anything else you need before I go?"

There's silence and Savage still won't meet her eyes, so Knol sighs and turns to go. Just as she reaches the door, he finally responds.

"Keep your word, Jedi," he growls, his fear peaking as she turns to face him again before he gets it back under control. He's looking her in the eye, though, in spite of it. Knol nods firmly back.

"You will be leaving Handooine with me. For now, hold here and wait for me to get back."

That earns her a nod in return, the yellow eyes burning into her back long after the door closes behind her. She activates the defensive systems in the loading bay then departs, sealing the ramp closed behind her.

Surprisingly there's actually a trooper waiting for her at the edge of the landing zone. He salutes as soon as she gets close and informs her Air Traffic Control sent him to bring her to Central command as soon as she was ready.

It's almost exactly what she would expect from a mission briefing on a large op. But the trooper's stiff and standing out against the background where any of her agents would have spent the time trading jokes with one eye on their surroundings.

Knol knows she isn't suited to be a military commander, far more skilled in espionage and infiltration. But a part of her doubts anyone could be suited for this, ordering kids who never had a chance to live into battle and calling it the greater good. Maybe she's being too hard on the council, they might not have had much of a choice in this, but neither did the clones, and they deserve better.

Still not their fault they exist. She smiles at the trooper, "Thanks, I guess it'd be a ways to walk."

He relaxes fractionally, and nods, gesturing her towards the speeder. "Around 3 kilometers, sir. Long enough it's better not to walk it if you don't have to."

"I agree, though sometimes needs must. What's your name, kid?"

"Foray, sir."

"I'll remember it, Foray, thanks for the lift."

She can feel his embarrassed gratitude even if she can't see behind his helmet. But the last of the nervous tension leaves his spine.

"Thank you, sir. Let's get back to base."

- - - - - - - - - -

There's a fog in his mind that Tae's been having trouble working past. It's a lingering cloud of thoughts and emotions that press against his skin from the inside out, making it hard to think and harder to breathe. He knows how he’s supposed to sort the feelings out, all the little tricks his master was able to teach him to get his mind clear and back to being his again. But his uncle is missing, and Tae is trapped in what seems like an endless whirlwind of stress that lingers until he can't tell where his thoughts end and the others' begin.

Normally he'd reach out as soon as he started to feel overwhelmed, but his uncle was supposed to be dead and hadn't gotten back in touch since the coded message he'd sent Tae to say he wasn't dead but would be going undercover for a while. So he couldn't risk accidentally broadcasting to anyone that his uncle was alive, let alone explaining to any of the Jedi in charge of the newly renamed 'Padawan Pack' exactly why he was so stressed.

Instead he had to let the others assume his erratic shielding was due to grief and having never been on an active battleground before. While his master was missing and he couldn't do anything about it.

The battle preparations weren't helping either, though. He'd assumed a battlefield wouldn't be much different than being in the middle of a bar brawl, all those minds, most of them with drugs lowering their filter level, and each one in some way upset about what was happening.

So far battle was nothing like that. On the starcruiser it had been cold with a flurry of suppressed panic as years of experience and training took hold for every trooper onboard. Keeping his sense of self in the middle of that had been hard, especially when he'd badly wanted that reassurance that if everyone did their part they probably wouldn't all die.

Now he's realizing that feeling wasn't the sense of certainty he took it for. It was adrenalin, and training kicking in in something like muscle memory. Here on the ground the troopers readying for deployment said goodbye with a sort of grim finality that echoed their certainty that many of them were going to die. They knew their generals were worried, had heard gossip of the somber expressions in the war tent, and responded by making extra certain they took this one last chance to say goodbye.

Their low morale was affecting all the Jedi, he knew, but Tae kept catching snatches of thoughts that made him crave his master's reassurance. A rare few of the troops kept their spirits up, some wanting to lift the others' spirits, and yet more with the hope that the Jedi would somehow produce a miracle.

It was these thoughts that prevented Tae from sleeping, because he was one of the Jedi they were laying their hopes on, and he was every bit as uncertain and afraid.

The others had cornered him finally, Elora taking the lead but even Xule had followed. He wasn't sleeping, his shields were failing, and they could all feel his distress. Tae could hear their concern, feel it around the edges of his cracking shields, so he'd agreed to spend the day meditating rather than training for the upcoming fight.

He's halfway through carefully reinforcing his dwindling shields when Master Norcuna comes looking for him, his mind a carefully collected spiral that doesn't leak any of the concern visible on his face.

"Padawan," He starts, then pauses before beginning again. "Tae, a Jedi Master arrived this morning, asking for you by name. There are some difficulties in verifying her identity however, more importantly, we cannot verify her connection to you. Have you ever met a Knol Ven'nari?"

It takes a moment for the concern to make sense. A moment where all Tae can remember is a tiny bothan with a fiery mind laughing at his master in a bar fight, before she hands him her drink and wades in to help. Then reality comes crashing back and he remembers a remembrance ceremony, with her name following his uncle's.

He's rising almost before he realizes it.

"She's here?" He asks desperately. "She's alive?"

Master Norcuna frowns faintly. "As far as we can tell, yes. Knight Leska informed me of her arrival and has been destracting her while I sought you out. Would you know her well enough to spot an imposter?"

It's a chilling thought, that someone might want him badly enough to impersonate a deceased Jedi to get to him. But Tae breathes through the chill before nodding.

"Master Ven'nari let me practice reading her mind once, on a mission where we ended up working together. I think I'd be able to recognise her mental signature anywhere now."

The Twi'lek nods slowly, "And would you wish to see her to try?"

Tae doesn't even have to consider it before nodding. If Master Ven'nari is alive she might have news of his Uncle. And even if not he wants to see her again, to have the chance to see her alive after mourning her.

Master Norcuna accepts his decision without stopping to make sure he's certain a second time. They make their way through the training grounds and past the war tent, heading for the medical tent. Halfway there Tae realizes he can sense her. It's muted by the fog following him, but only just. There's a swirling heat that accompanies her thoughts Tae is pretty sure no one could fake that even if they managed to fake everything else.

Knight Leska gives Master Norcuna a sharp look as they arrive but doesn't comment. Beside her the bothan catches sight of Tae and steps around the other master to meet him.

Though the first words out of Master Ven'nari's mouth are, "Shit kid, you look awful."

Knight Leska tisks at her, but Tae finds himself smiling. "And you look like you've been well, Master Ven'nari."

"I look like I've only just rediscovered hygiene, you mean. But you're too polite to say it." The shorter Jedi shakes her head, "A holdover from your Master, he always did speak like a politician."

It's not a hint or code, but it's also the first time anyone's brought up his Uncle in months without Tae mentioning him first, and suddenly he feels like crying.

"Ah shit, Little Diath, come here. I'm too short to do this without your help."

There's a hand on his arm and Tae leans into the offered hug, hiding his face in the bothan's neck for a long moment as he pulls himself back together. This close he catches flickers of her thoughts in spite of the shield. He thinks he must be projecting a bit too because a hand comes up to rub at his temple.

"We really weren't considering you at all, were we kid? Sorry, I should have come back sooner."

Flashes of a conversation overlooking a lava field, a plan to fake their deaths and go underground. Traces of guilt for not discussing Tae's future there at the same time. And under it all are a thousand different plans she's prepared since, and flashes of a yellow and black striped figure she's left on the ship.

Tae pulls back, blinking down at her as the impressions settle into order in his mind. She's going to look for his uncle. "You need my help."

Master Ven'nari nods, "We do."

He looks to the other Jedi next, "May I go?"

"It will be dangerous," Knight Leska informs him. "Master Ven'nari had a run-in with Dooku on Onderon. He may be pursuing her still."

"The Council assigned Tae to our supervision," Master Norcuna interjects. "It would be a grave misstep to entrust his care to another."

"You want Master Ven'nari to claim him as her Padawan learner," Knight Leska accuses, and Tae blinks, glancing down at the bothan Master. She meets his gaze steadily.

"I have no intention of replacing Master Diath. That said, as long as it's alright with you I'm willing to give it a try."

"I accept," Tae replies quickly, glancing up at the other Masters. "This is something I need to do."

"Very well then," Master Ven'nari cuts in before the others can respond. "Padawan Tae Diath I take you as my Padawan learner." She turns to Knight Leska, "Any objections?"

"Keep him safe and I'll have none," the Knight replies. "We can get the paperwork filed right now and get you both out of the system before Count Dooku has a chance to track you down."

"You should take this time to say goodbye to your friends," Master Norcuna suggests gently before Tae can follow them. "Whatever papers you need to sign will wait until you're ready to leave."

Master Ven'nari nods at the suggestion, giving Tae a shooing motion when he turns to her for permission. It's an echo of his first day as a padawan, but this time the feeling in Tae's gut is regret, not excitement, as he hurries away to find the others one last time.

- - - - - - - - - -

Knol watches the kid, her new Padawan learner, leave to say his last goodbyes and has to bite back a scathing criticism of the war effort. But her company already knows everything she could say, and they don't need to hear it from her.

Diath might tho, when she finally manages to track him down. How did they let it come to this? Where he could have lost his Padawan on the battlefield and not even known until it was too late? Tae might be the most well adjusted psychic she's ever met, but the separation had left him battered.

No matter what good had come of their ruse, Tae had suffered for it. And they owed him for that.

"Sorry for leading the Count this way," she offers finally, following Knight Leska into a small logistics tent. "I know him showing up on my tail could make things messy for you."

"Maybe if he shows we'll be able to get the forces we actually need to pull this off," the human replies tiredly. "I'll be honest, Master, the Senate is pinning their hopes on Master Kenobi somehow finding a diplomatic solution. If that fails we're fighting a civil war I don't think we can win."

"And the Council's response is to sent you more Padawan's," Knol puts the pieces together. "They can't allocate more Knights without consulting the Senate, but the kids are an available resource."

"We shouldn't be asking a handful of Padawans to stand in for an army of soldiers, but there you have it," the Knight sighs, handing over a datapad with the correct paperwork. "At least you're getting Tae out of the line of fire. All we're waiting for now is Master Kenobi and we'll be deploying."

Knol's ruff flattens slightly at the thought. She quickly finishes the paperwork and hands it back. "Anything else?"

"That should be everything," Leska agrees with a faint smile. "We don't have much but if you need food or fuel…"

"Save what you have for the troops, we'll be fine for a while," the bothan cuts her off. That earns her a faint smile.

"Then that's all. May the Force be with you, Master Ven'nari."

"And with you all, Knight Leska."

- - - - - - - - - -

The ship is larger than Tae expected. Admittedly about half the size is down to the folded wings, but the other half is still larger than a few scattered snipits lead him to expect.

The trooper who dropped them off saluted sharply then turned back the way they'd come. He'd been cautiously interested in them, departing this close to a major mission, and had let Master Ven'nari draw him into a light back-and-forth that left the trooper feeling better than he had when they arrived. Tae still isn't sure exactly what it was about the conversation that helped, but maybe it was simply being acknowledged rather than ignored.

There's another Force presence on the ship, a quiet sort of darkness that feels like sickness. Underneath it is an abrasive sense of fear, and a determination dedicated to surviving in spite of it.

Tae's never met a Sith, isn't entirely certain he'd know what the Darkside feels like in a friend who's lost their way. But he knows there's something wrong with that signature. He doesn't realize he's stopped, staring up the loading ramp dubiously, until Master Ven'nari is abruptly in front of him.

"You sense him, don't you? And you're wondering if I'm out of my mind."

Tae sputters at the accusation. "I-! No! Of course I don't think that Master Ven'nari! I'm certain I just don't know the whole picture. There's probably a perfectly good reason to keep such a dangerous secret this close to so many other Jedi."

The bothan's brow twitched skeptically.

"For some reason, kid, I get the feeling you're trying to scold me. But I'll just take you at your word instead." She glances up the ramp herself, then turns back to him with a frown. "I won't be able to talk about it until we're gone, so if you want to take a look at my reasons consider this permission. Go ahead."

Tae hesitated at that. Telepathy was an uncommon skill, and a powerful one, but those who knew about it could diminish its effectiveness with deflecting techniques, or even traps. And while using his abilities to enter another's mind gave him a lot of power, it also left him uniquely vulnerable to counterattacks. If Master Ven'nari had fallen and intended to overpower him in some way this was likely a trap. But if she hadn't it was still possible her thoughts could be misleading.

Or they could be the simplest way to verify her intent. There was no way to be sure.

Tae closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and reaches for the Force. There's no warning, just a twinge of anticipation, and he decides to trust his newest Master isn't lying.

Years before his Master had introduced the Bothan after they were thrown out of a bar. Master Ven'nari had chuckled when Tae handed her back her drink and agreed easily when his uncle asked if Tae could practice reading her mind.

"We all have secrets, kid," She told him when Tae had been surprised. "And it's not like a normal Jedi can't rummage around enough to find some of them anyway. The secret's not thinking of things you don't want other people to find out. Just focus on my thoughts rather than digging through my mind and I promise you won't find out anything you'd end up in danger for knowing."

He's not sure that's true anymore. Whatever secret she's keeping is certain to bring with it a whole mess of trouble. Enough that she's seeking out his master for help sorting it out. But Tae needs to know what he's walking into.

He closes his eyes and leans into the fire that burns in Master Ven'nari's mind. This time there are no mirages, no misdirection layered on top of thoughts meant to redirect the eye. He falls straight into a memory, a sickbed confession played back slow as it was deliberately recalled. There are fragments of thought tacked on in places, connections her mind makes automatically but there and gone before they can become complete images on their own. It's enough for him to guess at the bigger picture, and doesn't feel like she's leading him on.

When it gets to the end the memory shifts back to normal though patterns. Flickers of plans underneath the more direct feeling of awaiting his response, though Master Ven'nari already suspects what it will be.

Tae opens his eyes, glancing past the other Jedi into the shadows of the ship. Then he meets her gaze again.

"You're right. He deserves the chance to make his own choices before being condemned."

It's a reflection of his own skill, twisted into a tool for slavery. Even a simple Force Suggestion doesn't feel that innocent now.

Master Ven'nari gives him a sympathetic glance. Then she sighs and gestures up the ramp.

"We need to get back into space sooner than later. But I promise we can talk about all this more once we're in the air."

Tae nods quickly, hurrying up the ramp into the ship proper.

Master Ven'nari follows him in, sealing the ramp behind them before starting off down the hall.

"Get yourself settled into either room on that side," she says with a wave. "Afterwards you can come meet me up front. Don't wander around until I can give you the tour and introduce you properly, got it?"

He nods quickly, earning him a smile before she vanishes down the opposite hall.

Tae turns away before he can give into his curiosity and try to figure out which door she went through. He's been given a choice of rooms after all, and clearly that decision should be given the utmost care and attention.

- - - - - - - - - -

Savage hadn't been planning on sleeping, hadn't been expecting to be able to with all his senses on high alert. But his body betrayed him once again and sent him spiraling into unconsciousness anyway.

When he wakes the Jedi has returned, and there is a second presence following behind. Even in his exhausted state Savage hasn't forgotten their discussion the night before, so he must assume the presence is the Jedi's contact.

He hopes the Jedi will keep her word, but cannot be certain. Knows only that she will not defend him against her own kind if they choose to fight him. And in this state he knows whatever conflict arises will not be much of a fight at all.

The only weapon he has is the waterskin, the hard head of which might be able to do some damage if he had the strength to back it up. He's too weak to run, too weak to win in a fight, but not to fight at all.

There's a small part of him that insists it won't be necessary, but he's lived too long to take anything on faith under another's rule.

By the time they make it into the vessel he's pulled himself upright, wedged into the corner of the wall, with the waterskin half hidden under a corner of the blanket.

But the new presence doesn't come to his room. Instead the Jedi stops at the door once again and prods him with the force, only entering after he prods her in return.

The Jedi takes in his defensive attempts with one glance, and Savage fights down the illogical impulse to try and hide what his plans were. She doesn't order him to stand down, though, and he can't decide if she doesn't think he's a threat or if she truly believes her companion won't start anything. He forces himself to meet her eyes either way, and after a moment she nods.

"My contact agreed to come with us. I'll introduce you as soon as we get a destination and are back in hyperspace. For now we need to be on our way as quickly as we can afford. That said, do you need anything before we set out? It might get a little bumpy, but I'm assuming you want to stay upright. Anything else? It might be another half hour to an hour before I can come back."

For a second there's an impulse to ask for a weapon so strong it's dizzying. Even for the most stringent tests the Elder Nightbrothers would grant you a dagger if you asked. But he was an enemy here not a child prepping for his coming of age. She'd be a fool to humor him.

Savage shakes his head instead.

"You ok on water?" The Jedi presses, pointing to the waterskin in his hand. "There still any in there?"

He has rationed it, uncertain when she would be returning. There's a little less, and while more would be acceptable he's not about to hand over his only weapon like that.

"I will be fine," he tells her firmly.

The Jedi studies him for a long moment, then reaches for her own belt, disconnecting an identical water skin and holding it out.

"Just in case," she tells him, stepping forward to rest the waterskin on the bed within reach before turning and leaving the room.

Savage takes the second skin gingerly, suspicious of a trap and yet finding none. He considers the new presence but they seem to be ignoring him, moving instead to join the Jedi in the front of the vessel.

He settles more firmly into the corner, anticipating the lightning shocks of pain liftoff will drive through him. And reluctantly reassures himself that the Jedi kept her word.

It's the upcoming introduction and what may follow that must concern him now.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Have a seat over there," is the greeting Tae gets as soon as he makes his way up to the cockpit.

Master Ven'nari is in the middle of a complicated series of inputs, but has the time to indicate the chair to her left. It's massive compared to the one she's piloting from. Tae eyes it dubiously for a moment before sitting down, but it's not as uncomfortable as he expected.

"Your permissions just came through, Maalraas," a voice speaks up from the communications array in the console in between their two seats. "You are cleared for departure, stand by for exit flight plan."

Master Ven'nari nods as she flicks the return signal button. "Understood, Maalraas standing by."

There's a data transmission of some sort and flicking a few switches somehow sends it on to a small green console in the corner that wakes up with an irritated clatter before beginning its job. An overlay appears in the far right of the viewport but the older Jedi doesn't seem phased, tuning instead to press the return signal button again.

"Flight path received, Air Control, the Maalraas is ready to proceed."

"You are clear Maalraas, depart when ready. We'll inform you immediately if anything changes."

"Departing now."

There's a flurry of switches and a jolt as the ship starts rising. Then they're sliding forward and up as the ground falls away from view. Moments later the sky shifts through an array of shades until it settles on a dark blue-gray and they level out.

"This is Air Traffic Control, Maalraas you are clear. Fly safe out there."

"Keep up the good work, Air Traffic Control. This was the least painful departure has been in a while."

There's a startled laugh. "Thank you, sir. We'll do our best.". And then the line goes dead.

Tae stares at the buttons lining the console in front of him and wonders if the sequence somehow makes sense with practice or if the bothan simply had years of experience in him with which to guess.

When he glances up they're still flying generally away from Handooine and Master Ven'nari is watching him.

"Well kid, any idea where your Master might have been headed?"

Tae shrugs apologetically. "I haven't heard from him since his last message to tell me he wasn't actually dead. But I know it was sent from the Lannik System."

"He's headed straight for Hutt Space," Master Ven'nari muses, tapping the edge of a console idly. Then she smiles.

"That close to Bothan space there's no way he made it through undetected. Don't worry, Little Diath, we'll find him."

There’s more toggles and buttons, and a deep hum somewhere in the hold, then they’re changing course again.

“Fifteen minutes to the hyperspace lane,” the older Jedi spoke up as she leaned over the controls. “Then I can finally answer any questions and get you that introduction.”

Tae nods and settles back into the chair to wait. He just hopes the whole explanation doesn’t make him wish he was back on Handooine.

#my fanfiction #Star Wars #Maalraas #Knol Ven'nari #Savage Opress #Handooine

0 notes