#go have a parade and shoot off some fireworks or something instead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

x-rainflame-x · 3 years

Text

And a Happy New Year

Hohoho! A secret Santa gift for @lioncubofboone c:

@fmasecretsanta2020

Also on AO3 and FFN

Rated T- to be safe

Tags: parental roy mustang, ptsd, one shot, hurt comfort, angst

Word Count: 10K ish (I know, things got out of hand :’D)

Summary: Ed hasn't quite been himself after his run-in with Scar. He's been restless, flinching at loud noises and jumping at shadows. Who could possibly understand but a colonel with the same fear in his eyes.

A/N: Please note that I have never experienced PTSD firsthand and all information is based off of multiple hours of internet research, so I can only hope I did it some justice.

XxXxX

And a Happy New Year

XxXxX

The first blast almost took his legs out from under him.

It wasn't something conscious, rather a reflex that Ed didn't even know he had until he was flattened against a cold building, hands up to clap, suitcase forgotten in the middle of the sidewalk. His heart was in his throat and though he peered through the dimness and shadows of alleys, Ed couldn't make out a threat.

He listened hard, only able to hear the rushing of traffic several blocks off and rowdy music drifting from a nearby tavern.

Had he imagined it? Or was that the flash of white hair in the dark?

A glint of red?

Ed stared hard but couldn't see anything, save his breaths curling in the damp, frigid air. The street from the railway station was almost deserted this time of night, nothing but shadows and hazy street lamps placed much too far apart. They allowed for pools of golden light against the wet pavement twice a block, but nothing for whatever was slithering in the alleyways. The moon hadn't made an appearance all night, blotted out by the thick clouds above and leaving Ed to just sit and listen.

But there wasn't anything there.

He felt a little ridiculous pressed up against the wall the way he was for nothing. At least, his senses were now telling him it was nothing, even though his pulse was still pounding a merry staccato in his chest and sweat was still beading on his forehead despite the cold. With one more look at his surroundings and a steadying breath, Ed moved forward and reached for his suitcase.

Another boom rattled his teeth. He tried to scramble away, back to the false safety of the wall, but his flesh foot caught in the handle of his suitcase and he went down hard, knee twisting at an unnatural angle.

Something popped.

Bright pain bleached his vision white, ears picking up nothing but static.

And then he cried out, equal parts pain and surprise, clamping his teeth around the sound and strangling it into a distressed moan before it could make it past his lips. He barely noticed the cold concrete as he raked his flesh fingertips over it, trying to find purchase against the agonizing onslaught.

If Scar found him now, he was dead.

Ed didn't know where the thought came from; as far as he or anyone else knew, Scar had moved off to torment another city, his last sighting reported at Central. It had been quiet in East since . . .

Well, since the man had tried to kill him.

Another burst, and Ed couldn't get against the wall fast enough, scrambling to his feet, dragging his bum leg after him, gasping and swallowing a pained whimper as he pressed his cheek against the wood of an abandoned doorway.

What was making that sound, and why did he feel like someone was trying to kill him?! There was nobody there.

Ed stayed where he was for a long minute, panting, waiting for either his leg to stop hurting or his heart to stop pounding, or maybe even for the threat—the one his mind seemed to be convinced was there—to materialize from the darkness like the vengeful wraith in a ghost story.

But none of that happened.

And for the first time in his life, Ed was afraid to walk to his dorm alone.

After the events with Scar, Armstrong had escorted him and Al back to the Rockbell's for repairs, but instead of leaving as soon as his arm was back and Al's metallic body was intact, they had decided to stay a few weeks. Armstrong had returned weeks ago when he was called back on important business, and Ed wasn't sure why, but something about returning to East made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Maybe it had something to do with Nina, or maybe he and Al almost dying in the street. Hard to say.

Ed had been . . . well, Winry had described him as "nervous." She'd also used words like "irritable," and "twitchy," and it seemed like every little thing had him jumping a mile. It was only yesterday when Al had scared him so badly, Ed screamed at his little brother. Over nothing.

And then there was last night . . .

He didn't want to think about last night.

That's when Ed had decided it was time for him to return to East. It had been a force of will to get himself back here, guilt nipping at his heels the whole way. Al had wanted them to stay and spend a few more days to celebrate New Year's with Winry and Pinako, or so he'd said. After last night, Ed figured he'd want a little space.

Ed wanted a little space.

Wait . . .

New Year's.

Another pop, and even though he flinched hard enough to smack his head against the solid oak behind him, he turned his gaze skyward, just making out a blue burn reflecting off the top of a building before it faded into nothing.

Fireworks?

Ed had been losing his mind over fireworks?

Great.

Just . . . wonderful.

With a pain-laced moan, Ed pushed himself from the doorway, testing his left leg. His knee throbbed and wobbled under him, feeling much too hot, the flesh much too tight while the joint felt much too loose. He poked at it experimentally through his leather trousers, finding the flesh already swelling and alive with pain. He hissed out a tight breath, panting a bit as he weighed his options.

Another burst, another flinch.

Ed didn't know why he was still searching the darkness for a yellow jacket and white hair.

He could walk back to his dorm, even though he felt like someone was about to jump out of the shadows at any second, and every time one of those cursed fireworks went off, he found himself having to swallow his heart to get it back where it belonged.

Not to mention if he was attacked now, he was as good as dead.

Ed wasn't even sure where that train of thought was coming from.

His next option was to call someone. Hughes would be back in Central now, so he was out of the question. The only other number he knew was the office. Maybe the team was working late. Hawkeye or Fuery wouldn't ask too many questions if they came to pick him up, and if he got lucky enough to get Havoc then the man probably wouldn't even make him go to the hospital. The last thing he needed right now was a nurse with a needle.

If it was the Colonel . . . well, Ed was loath to admit to himself that the Colonel giving him a ride certainly beat having to walk home in the dark, injured, just waiting for someone to come out of the shadows and—

That was enough of that. Time for his overactive imagination to stop feeding him paranoid delusions and focus on getting to the nearest phone.

He glanced at his suitcase, then up the deserted street. The nearest payphone was almost a quarter mile away, but there was a tavern around the block that was sure to have a booth. Maybe with a bit of stubbornness, he could make it there.

Decision made, he hooked his suitcase in his metal fingers and began a slow, agonizing limp down the street, one eye on the road ahead, the other looking over his shoulder.

XxXxX

Roy jumped at the first firework.

He knew they were coming; it wasn't a surprise, but that didn't necessarily keep his pulse from spiking, his breath catching in his throat, the heat of invisible flames licking between his fingertips, the screams of hundreds of human beings burning, the smell . . .

Roy closed his eyes and forced a tight breath from his nose in one controlled exhale.

He didn't like fireworks.

He glanced outside of his window, far across the courtyard and the shooting range, where a crowd of thousands was gathered at the parade grounds. Another blast only made him flinch this time as a firework exploded into life, the inside of his office flaring bright green before fading back into dimness, his small desk lamp the only thing keeping the dark at bay.

It was customary to welcome in the new year with flair; parades, festivals, fireworks. For a military city where a tenth of the population suffered from some degree of PTSD or another, Roy thought it was a stupid tradition.

It had all the typical celebratory nonsense that Roy would probably be participating in, had there not been fireworks and had Hawkeye not threatened him with bodily harm if the stack of reports on his desk were not finished by January first.

He hoped his team was having more fun than he was.

Another firework, another flinch. Roy turned back to his desk and tried to focus on something that didn't remind him that he was a murderer.

He startled once more when the first phone rang.

Roy glanced out the open door into the outer office. Hawkeye's desk lamp was still on, but no one was there. Roy had dismissed everyone early to enjoy the New Year's Eve celebration, and even though Hawkeye had offered to stay behind, Roy told her there was no need. Roy would be done by seven, then retire early far away from any cursed fireworks.

Judging by the haunted look in her eyes, Roy knew she was probably going to do the same.

Roy consulted his pocket watch. It was well after eight now. Why would the Lieutenant be calling at this hour? Unless she'd already tried his house? But then why call her own desk and not his? It stopped ringing before Roy could make it to the door.

Sighing, Roy returned to his desk, dabbing away a bit of sweat from his temple and doing his best to calm his racing heart. It was just a phone.

Another crack of fireworks, and then his desk phone rang.

His nerves couldn't take much more of this.

He picked it up on the third ring. "Colonel Roy Mustang."

"Colonel."

Roy blinked, glancing at the phone in his hand. What on earth was Ed doing calling the office at this hour? He was supposed to be in Resembool. "Fullmetal?"

Was something wrong? Was he hurt? Maybe it had something to do with the boy barely surviving his run-in with Scar just over a month ago. Maybe it was Roy's own heightened paranoia right now, or maybe there was something off in Ed's greeting, but something was definitely setting him on edge right now.

"Colonel," Ed said again. "Is . . . is there anybody else in the office right now?"

There wasn't, but Roy glanced out the door anyway. "No, just me. What's going on?"

"N-nothing," Ed said quickly, the word coming out in a stammer. "The Lieutenant isn't there?"

Worry made him snap a little more than he should have. "Fullmetal, I'm the only one here. What's wrong? Where are you?"

Ed hesitated again, and Roy only became aware of how tightly he was gripping the phone when it gave out a little creak in protest. He took a breath to demand an answer when Ed continued. "Could . . ." Maybe it was coincidence that Roy flinched and Ed stopped when the next firework rattled Roy's window. "Can you come pick me up?"

Ed was a thousand things. Timid wasn't one of them. Neither was scared. "Where are you?"

"The pub by the train station. The Crooked Lantern."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay inside, don't leave."

Ed sounded a little too relieved and a little too meek when he muttered a quiet, "Okay."

XxXxX

Ed sat by the window, clenching and unclenching his flesh hand.

For some reason the raucous crowd scattered through the tavern made him even more paranoid. His body felt taught, wound up tighter than piano wire, and ever since he'd dragged his cold, injured body inside the frosted glass doors, he couldn't help but feel anybody in this room might have bad intentions. It was mostly the off-duty military crowd, from what Ed could tell. Technically colleagues, but Ed didn't see any faces he knew, just bits and pieces of royal blue uniforms here and there. The knowledge was not comforting.

But at least he couldn't hear the fireworks in here.

Hardly anybody was paying him any attention, save the old barkeep that barely said two words to anybody, but slid a warm mug of mulled cider his way when he'd left the phonebooth. Ed had tried to pay for it, but the man shook his head and turned away, going back to creating some concoction for a group of men farther down the bar. Ed thanked him, got a grunt of acknowledgement in return, then took his drink and his suitcase and made his way to a dark, quiet corner. Someplace he could put his back to a wall and watch the door.

A middle-aged woman banged out tunes from an upright piano across from Ed, the three tables closest to her attempting to sing along to the songs they knew and making up the ones they didn't. Ed tried to enjoy the atmosphere as best he could, sipping his drink to return some warmth to his body. He wasn't sure if the cold was from the chilly December air, or if it had more to do with the paranoia chasing at his mind like a pack of hunting dogs.

He wished the Colonel would hurry.

His leg ached something fierce. He tried to prop it up on the seat in front of him, but a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that this wasn't a good place to relax, so he set his foot back down under him.

Finally, six songs and five drunken choruses later, the front door opened, and a familiar silhouette framed by bar smoke and boisterous laughter stepped in, surveying the room with sharp eyes.

Ed almost melted in relief, sliding from his booth and hobbling up to meet him, his knee almost buckling twice in his haste to get to him.

Mustang saw him almost the moment he stood up, and Ed felt the heavy weight of his calculating stare, doing that annoying thing where he analyzed every bit of you before you said your first word.

Ed was too relieved to care. "Took you long enough," he said in greeting, but the words sounded hollow and thin, even to him. He tried to lace a bit of his usual nonchalance into his next words, but they rang false somehow. Too terse, too anxious. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

"Traffic," Mustang said by way of explanation, his gaze zeroing in on Ed's leg. Ed didn't want to do this here.

He wanted to get out.

"Can we go?"

Ed wished he could try the question again, but it was too late. He already sounded like a scared little kid, but he supposed if it got Mustang to stop staring and to start listening, it was worth it.

Dark eyes slid up to meet his, brows flattened into a concerned frown. Ed fidgeted under it, and he was sure Mustang didn't miss the way he twitched when the pianist suddenly began the next song with a jarring bang. He looked over his shoulder just to be sure.

Sure of what, Ed couldn't say.

Mustang leaned forward slowly, slow enough that Ed didn't immediately panic, and took the suitcase from his surprised hand. "Let's go," he said, opening the door with a glance over Ed's head.

Ed limped out in front of him, back into the frigid night air. It got colder here than it did in Resembool, and the cold was not kind to automail. In addition to the throbbing of his real knee, his ports were starting to ache already from the sudden change in climate. He would kill right now for a couple of hot water bottles, an ice pack, and an aspirin.

"What did you do?" Mustang asked from behind him, the sudden dampening of drunken singing and laughter signaling the door had fallen shut. They were left with the dull rush of traffic a few streets away and the open, echoing emptiness of the city in winter. It had started misting at some point, painting the world a few shades richer and making the atmosphere fuzzy and heavy with a clean sweetness. Precipitation clung to Ed's hair and clothes, gooseflesh trailing up his arm as moisture pooled around his flesh wrist and slid down into his glove.

"Nothing," Ed responded, more reflex than anything, voice strained, distracted. He couldn't help but scan the streets for a threat, then turned his gaze skyward, hoping there would be no more fireworks. But who was he kidding? It was probably only a little after eight.

It was going to be a long night.

"Fullmetal, one of your knees is twice the size of the other, and unless I'm confused and Miss Rockbell has made some interesting adjustments to your automail, you did something."

Ed made a sound that was half dismissive, half hurt as he limped forward, spotting Mustang's car parked almost in the middle of the street alongside the vehicles lining the curb. Ed didn't have the heart to make fun of Mustang for it at the moment, more than ready to be someplace less exposed. He felt a little lightheaded, but that could have been from any number of things, from the paranoia, to the exertion, to the pain pounding through his knee with every mangled step.

Mustang walked behind him, pace slow but sure against the damp concrete. Ed didn't like admitting that he felt marginally safer—though a bit scrutinized—with the older man watching his back.

Ed struggled to pivot on his automail leg and open the car door. He didn't say anything when Mustang gave him a hand, helping him drag his injured leg behind him into the passenger seat with minimal whimpering, but if a dry sob or two tore its way from Ed's lips, Mustang didn't comment. Ed was afraid to look at his eyes though, so he just waited for him to shut the door, toss Ed's suitcase in the backseat, then seat himself behind the wheel.

Finally, Mustang's door latched closed, and Ed felt something tight and pained loosen on his next exhale.

It felt safer, like a heavy weight had slid off of his chest and he could breathe easier than he had all evening.

"You going to tell me why I'm picking up my underage, injured subordinate from a bar now?"

Ed risked a look at the colonel. There wasn't any fire in his voice or in his black eyes. Just a quiet, unsettled concern that Ed didn't like the look of. He saw it the day Scar had almost killed him and Al, and it struck a little too close to home, the way his mind had been recently.

Now that Ed was looking at him, he looked . . . tired, worn. Like he'd had a marathon of a day and picking Ed up from taverns was the last thing he should have been doing. Shadows colored his eyes, and he had a raw look to him that Ed hadn't noticed a few minutes ago.

"I. . . ," Ed began, but no feasible lie came to him.

What could he say? He was scared of the dark now? That fireworks had scared him so badly that he'd hurt himself?

Ed looked down at his knee, swollen and misshapen, like Ed had used it to beat down a brick wall. Saying it was twice the size of his other was an exaggeration, and Ed needed Mustang to realize that or he'd dump him at a hospital for sure.

His nerves couldn't take that tonight.

"I fell," he said finally. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth. "The pub was the closest phone. It's not bad, I'll just put some ice on it back at my dorm."

"With a knee that looks like that? I think we'll be stopping at the hospital first."

"No!"

Mustang froze.

Ed stared, wide-eyed, his sudden outburst even scaring himself a little bit. "No hospital," he tried again, voice trilling just a little at the end. He swallowed and tried one more time. "Please, Colonel. Don't take me there."

Mustang regarded him, and for a second, Ed was afraid he was going to refuse him and take him to the hospital anyway.

Then, Mustang sighed, leaning back in his seat and looking out the window. He muttered something that sounded like, "If this was any other night," before leaning forward like the gravity of the world had been kicked up to a hundred, sliding the key into the ignition and coaxing the car to life.

He was silent as he turned the vehicle around, and it felt good to be moving, like he was leaving behind the dark shadows and the threat, whatever the "threat" was.

Ed saw a flash of yellow and white gleaming from the darkness and then they passed it.

"Hey! Did you see—"

Mustang gave him a look between watching the road.

Ed swallowed stiffly and sat back. "Nothing . . . it was nothing."

The ensuing silence was deafening. Mustang returned his gaze to the window as they pulled onto a main street, and when Ed noticed it was away from the hospital, he tried to force some of the tension from his jaw.

Then, the mist turned into droplets, pelting the windows in a sudden burst.

Ed jumped. Again.

"I suppose it would be pointing out the obvious for me to say that you aren't acting like yourself, Fullmetal."

A dozen tacky comments were on the tip of his tongue, but Ed swallowed them back. "I'm fine."

"Well, you're not acting fine."

"Would me stabbing you in the ribcage make it more convincing?"

Mustang smirked. "Wouldn't hurt."

Ed clapped his hands.

Mustang jumped.

The wheel jerked.

Ed flattened himself in his seat, grabbing at the door to steady himself as Mustang swerved, brakes screaming, tires squealing, scraping toward the curb, a second away from hitting it when Mustang finally regained control, stopping just shy of disaster.

He was very glad the street was deserted.

Ed swallowed his pounding heart, risking a glance at Mustang. The older man's face had gone ashen. His grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, his breaths coming in short gasps, eyes round as he breathed for a second, the sound ragged and harsh against Ed's fear-heightened senses.

Finally, slowly, he applied the gas, urging the car into a slow, much more careful pace. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face, disappearing underneath his coat collar.

"I was kidding," Ed finally whispered.

Mustang swallowed, but the raw fear in his eyes didn't dissipate. "I know."

When Ed dared to breathe again, he said, "I suppose it would be pointing out the obvious for me to say that you aren't acting like yourself."

A smile pulled at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm getting the strangest sense of déjà vu."

Ed felt himself mirroring the look. "What's eating you?"

"Mostly just why I'm out here picking up my underage, injured subordinate from a bar."

"We just going to sit here and repeat ourselves the whole car ride?"

"Unless you're going to add something interesting to the conversation. Like why I'm out here picking up—"

"Mustang," Ed growled, massaging his temple. But he would be remiss if he didn't admit, at least to himself, that the banter was helpful. He could feel the tension bleeding out of him from his edges like air from an over-filled tire, his shoulders no longer pressing against his ears. This, however, wasn't exactly the conversation he wanted to have. Not with Mustang.

Anybody but Mustang.

If there was anybody that couldn't possibly understand this strange, living, writhing sense of paranoia eating at him, it was Mustang. The man was as unflappable as polished stone.

And yet . . .

Ed glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

Mustang's eyes were still tight, and though he no longer held the wheel in an iron grip, his fingers were trembling just the faintest in his slackened hold, his forehead glistening with every passing streetlight.

That was . . . odd.

A firework lit up the inside of the car with a sudden glare. Ed braced himself, both he and Mustang watching it shoot into the sky just ahead of them to the south, weaving a bright trail through the clouds. It burst into a shower of red and gold.

The pop was blessedly muffled inside the car, and though Ed's heart leapt in his chest, he managed to not move aside from the tightening of his hand on the arm rest, knee twinging as he tensed.

Mustang twitched, breath audibly catching before he forced it out a second later.

Yeah, Mustang wasn't okay right now either. But he came to pick up Ed anyway.

Why was thinking about that so uncomfortable?

"Nice fireworks, huh?" Ed tried, immediately wanting to smack himself in the face. What a tactful opening, Ed. What grace, what wit!

Mustang's mouth pulled into a terse line that might have been a smile if he'd put more effort into it. "Yeah. Nice."

"I . . . forgot they do that. At New Years and stuff."

What an amazing conversationalist he was tonight.

Mustang glanced to Ed, then back out the windshield, turning down a side street. He started to say something, but Ed cut him off.

"Hey, Eastern HQ is the other way."

"I'm aware."

"Then where are we—"

"My house."

Ed blanched. "Your house?"

"I'm glad you're keeping up," Mustang said around another hollow smirk. "It's either my house or the hospital."

Ed felt his emotions oscillating between relief and rage. "Look, I don't need to be 'supervised,' or whatever you think it is you're doing here!"

"Fullmetal, I think Armstrong's knees are smaller than that," he said with a nod towards Ed's leg. "We're going to my house where I can check it out and watch you to make sure it's not something more serious, since you won't tell me exactly what happened."

"I told you I fell!"

"I told you I don't buy it."

"It was the fireworks, okay?" Ed snapped, turning out the window. "I freaked out over absolutely nothing. I got my foot caught in my suitcase and I fell. Are you happy?"

Mustang was silent for a long while, and Ed was sure he was trying to find some way to make fun of him for it.

Mustang turned down another street, houses lining both sides, the occasional window lit up in the mist, the falling rain looking like liquid gold against the panes. Hedges and trees sprawled on either side against dead grass, giving a solid impression of their arrival in suburbia.

Ed risked another look at the older man. If possible, he was even paler now, or maybe it was the clash of his pale skin against the darkness. Maybe he wasn't going to say anything at all.

They pulled up to a small house towards the end of a cul-de-sac. All the windows were dark, and no porchlight welcomed them. It was fairly nondescript; just a simple single-story brick structure, neatly trimmed bushes, and a small cluster of pansies and cabbages bravely staving off the cold in the front flowerbed.

Ed hadn't ever been to the older man's house, but it didn't quite fit the image Ed had in his head for Colonel Roy Mustang. Ed thought he'd live in a shack in the warehouse district, or maybe under a bridge, asking riddles and taking tolls from unwitting pedestrians trying to cross the river.

The house seemed so . . . mundane.

Human.

Another pop took them both by surprise.

Ed's heart slammed into his lungs, taking the air out of him. His head jerked reflexively to look out the window, searching the shadows and the empty spaces between houses for what he knew was out there before turning back around.

Mustang was looking at him, the blank terror in his eyes easing into awareness.

Then understanding.

Both panted, gasped, staring at one another in the otherwise thick silence, and Ed knew they'd had the same realization at the same time.

That look in Mustang's eyes . . . it was the same look Ed had woken up to almost every night the past few weeks.

XxXxX

"Brother?"

Ed couldn't speak, terror stealing his voice.

"Brother, are you okay?"

Ed made a sound, a strangled whimper. He nodded instead of answering, tearing the covers off and almost tripping over Al's resting armor, stumbling through the dark house on a spare leg, the wisps of nightmares making him stagger and sway, searching for the gleam of red eyes against a scarred face in the hallway before he made it to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and bolting it in place.

He flipped the light on, almost tripping on the plush green rug that caught on the rough skin of his flesh heel. He leaned against the counter, gasping, shaking, the cold night air raising gooseflesh up his bare back.

He risked a look at his reflection.

XxXxX

It was like looking into a mirror.

Another few breathes passed until Ed no longer felt like something was cinching his chest.

Mustang turned away first, staring at the wheel before him, hands still wrapped tight around it like it would ground him.

Speaking of . . . Ed released his grip on the armrests, automail and nails leaving noticeable indentations in the cheap leather.

"Let's get you inside," Mustang said quietly.

Ed swallowed, but didn't argue.

On any other damp winter's day, moving could be a bit painful, but Ed's flesh leg had stiffened up considerably during the ride, and his first step outside of the car earned him a choked cry and a lot of pain. The knee wobbled and trembled under him, and despite the few staggering steps he managed while holding on to the car, he couldn't get the limb to accept his weight.

Ed knew very well what was coming and sent a glare Mustang's way before he could get his dumb suggestion out of his mouth. "No."

Mustang gripped the driver's back door, glaring at Ed from over the car roof, light rain pattering against the metal between them. "You going to crawl inside?"

"Maybe."

Mustang rolled his eyes. "Fullmetal, it's cold, it's wet, and I hate both of those things. And the only thing that sounds worse than being cold and wet is being cold and wet with you."

Ed scowled through his rapidly soaking bangs. "You know, you're not exactly good company yourself. I've had more pleasant evenings with serial killers."

The sentence was out of his mouth before he could properly wince at his own choice of words. He scanned the quiet street once more, as if his bravado had summoned his attacker from the night.

"Then we're in agreement," Mustang said, slamming the door-Ed did not flinch- and coming around the vehicle with Ed's suitcase in tow. Without much preamble, he hooked Ed's automail arm over his shoulder and kicked shut the door Ed had been clinging to in one motion.

"Hey!" Ed protested, almost collapsing, but the Colonel caught him easily, stooping low so that Ed wasn't on his tip toes.

"This would be a lot easier if you weren't so—"

"Finish that sentence, old man," Ed gasped, "and you're going to be eating through a straw the rest of your life."

Mustang made a sound that could have been a choke or a laugh as he helped Ed up the dark porch steps, Ed's metal foot thumping heavily against the wood, sending a shock through his stump at every painful impact. Mustang practically carried him up the last two steps, propping Ed against the doorway while he fumbled with his keys.

Ed shivered, but he wasn't sure if it was cold or pain or exertion that did it to him.

Mustang finally got the door open, and the yawning darkness before them set Ed back on edge all over again.

Boom.

White and yellow flashed in the dark, a gleam of red deep within the house.

He scrambled back, tripping, landing hard on the deck with a panicked, agonized cry, automail arm raised in defense.

A hand appeared from the dimness, tattoos even blacker than the shadows, reaching for him out of the dark.

"Fullmetal?"

XxXxX

Tears stained his cheeks, the skin under his eyes bruised, his face having that gaunt look that came with quick, unexpected weight loss.

Ed brushed his disheveled bangs back then turned on the tap, splashing cold water against his face.

He knew from the past few weeks that, now that he was awake, he wouldn't be going back to sleep tonight.

When he was asleep, it was just too hard to tell the difference between what was real and what wasn't.

Just that morning—at least, he thought it was that morning; his memory hadn't been too reliable recently—Granny said that if he didn't eat more he'd stop growing as he picked around his breakfast. Winry managed to get the best of him by offering homemade apple pie that afternoon, but his appetite had been shot since they'd gotten home.

He didn't feel like himself. He felt like his heart had been replaced by a scared rabbit, a sense of impending doom clinging to him like a shroud. He knew that his racing thoughts and his jumpy behavior weren't rational. He knew there was no sense behind it, but he didn't know how to turn it off.

He'd tried to talk about it with Al, early on, even before Armstrong had left. Alphonse had tried to be supportive, but Ed could tell that he just didn't understand.

Maybe he was just having a little mental breakdown. People got those every once in a while, right? Surely it would pass with time.

It turned out though that the longer he stayed here in Resembool, the worse it seemed to get. Every little noise was a threat, every dark passageway a potential hiding place. His body was convinced someone was after him, even when his mind knew better.

He had to get out of here. Maybe if he went back to East City, he could confront his fears and get back up on the horse that bucked him. Maybe he could finally find rest in the familiarity of routine and research.

"Brother?" a soft voice called through the door, startling him. When had the suit of armor gotten so sneaky? "Are you okay?"

"'M fine, Al," he said quietly. "Go back to the room, I'll be there in a second."

XxXxX

"Fullmetal."

Ed flinched, scrabbling back a half foot, arm still raised to fend off the attack.

It took him a long second to realize there was nothing there.

Another moment later, he saw Mustang, frozen by the door where Ed had left him, body like a live wire, eyes wide and looking at Ed like he'd seen a ghost.

Ed looked back into the darkness, back inside the house just to confirm that no one was there waiting.

That no one was waiting to kill him.

"It's alright," Mustang murmured.

Ed looked at him again, jaw locking shut, a shiver rattling his spine—because he was not trembling here, in front of Mustang, he was not—and lowered his arm.

Mustang stood slowly and stepped toward Ed even slower, like Ed might bite if he made any sudden moves.

If another one of those cursed fireworks went off in the next few minutes, he probably would.

"I'm . . . I'm fine," Ed said, his voice a whisper of itself, not a trace of conviction to be found.

Mustang's smile was more sad than anything. "I'm sure you are." He offered Ed a hand. "Come on."

Ed glanced around Mustang one more time. He knew it was irrational. He knew there was nothing there.

But just in case.

Satisfied with the empty darkness, Ed took a ragged breath and took the colonel's proffered hand.

Inside Mustang's house was more in line with Ed's perceptions of the man than the outside had been. The place was just a little too put together, decorated like Ed had seen some of those interior design magazines the switchboard operators sometimes kept on their desks, everything dark wood, beige walls, with navy and neutral rugs and accents. It was devoid of personal effects, save for a wall that consisted mostly of book-filled shelves that piqued Ed's interest for just a moment.

Mustang quickly deposited Ed on the couch, then disappeared into the kitchen. Ed could hear him shuffling around for a bit before he reappeared, dumping a bag of ice and a kitchen towel onto the couch then disappearing again, this time toward the back of the house.

Ed finally felt like he was more in control of himself, though the new environment could hardly be called soothing; it was just off-putting enough to be distracting, while Mustang's familiar presence kept it from becoming too much. Ed had never associated Mustang with comfort before. It was a novel thought.

"What are you doing?" Ed called after him.

"Trying to find you something to wear that's not soaking wet," he called back.

Ed felt his cheeks heat at that. "I do not want to borrow your clothes, old man."

"What a coincidence. I don't want to let you borrow them." He returned a few moments later carrying a first aid kit and a bundle of black fabric. "You'll be more comfortable in these," he said, tossing the clothes on Ed's lap. "Think you can repair your pants if we cut the leg? I don't think you're going to be able to get that knee out any other way."

Ed's less-than-careful lifestyle led to a lot of ripped clothes. Probably the only thing he was better at than mending his clothing was destroying it.

Still, he leaned forward to inspect his knee. Even with the awkward angle he held it at, the amount of swelling was enough to make removing the pants difficult. He made a face but wasn't sure himself if it was a grimace or disgust. "I guess."

It would have been preferable if Ed could have cut the fabric himself-he doubted Mustang knew a thing about seams- but there was no way he was going to be able to find an angle that didn't hurt like the dickens.

Mustang sat down on the low coffee table in front of Ed and picked up the medical scissors.

"Aren't those for tape and stuff?" Ed asked, eyeing the silver blades.

Mustang arched an eyebrow. He seemed to be more at ease here in his own home, or maybe it was the way they hadn't heard a firework since trying to get inside. "What difference does it make?"

"Won't it dull the blade or something?" Ed asked, thinking back to the time he and Al had used their mom's sewing scissors on their paper projects. Mom had almost killed them.

"Then I'll just sharpen them," Mustang said, gingerly picking Ed's leg up at the ankle. Ed writhed and hissed at the motion, and Mustang hesitated for a second before propping Ed's heel on his own knee, holding it steady and gripping the cuff of his pants with his left while bringing the scissors to bear on Ed's favorite pair of pants, cutting it all the way up to mid-thigh.

It looked worse than Ed had imagined. And Ed had a pretty good imagination.

A fresh purple bruise unfurled around the knee like a flower working its way from around his knee up the side of his leg. The whole joint was swollen to the size of a large grapefruit, flesh stretched thin and papery and hot to the touch.

Just the sight of it ticked the pain from a seven to an eight.

Owe.

He looked away, up at Mustang, because looking at it made it hurt more somehow. The man was examining it with a delicate touch, dark eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"You really messed it up good, didn't you?" he asked, reaching for the ice and wrapping the towel around it.

He placed the bag gently on the swollen flesh and Ed burrowed into the couch cushions as pain danced up and down his spine like a squirrel on a powerline. "Owe, owe, owe!" he shouted, "Easy!"

"Don't be a baby," Mustang huffed. "Let's leave the ice on it for a few minutes, then we'll see if we can wrap it and get the swelling to go down."

A loud pop, closer and louder than any of the others, cracked against the windows.

Ed almost launched out of his seat, his heart leaping to the roof of his mouth.

Any ease Mustang might have exuded left him in a sharp exhale. He stood, just barely catching Ed's foot before he could drop it all the way to the carpeted floor.

Ed gasped, but he couldn't tell if it was panic or pain that yanked the air from his lungs. He looked over his shoulder, trying and failing to find a serial killer in Mustang's dining room.

Finally, he looked back to Mustang. The older man still had a wild look about him, but his focus had narrowed. He looked at Ed like he was looking for something. When he spoke next, his voice remained even, despite the strain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, placing a throw pillow on the coffee table and propping Ed's foot on top of it, much more controlled this time. "I should have been more careful. Are you alright?"

Ed swallowed a shaky breath, feeling a little wild himself. "I . . .," he began, then swallowed again. "I'm fine. Sorry."

Mustang nodded. "Have you eaten?"

Ed shook his head.

Mustang's eyes narrowed. "How long?"

Ed managed a glare, but it felt false. "I ate plenty yesterday."

"How much is plenty?"

"Little bit for lunch, some dinner."

"If that's supposed to be convincing, it's not working. I'll fix something."

"I'm not hungry," Ed protested.

Mustang sighed. "I know you're not going to let me help you change—"

"You're right about that."

"—so you have until I get back from the kitchen to put these on," he said, gesturing to the clothes beside Ed.

Ed glared at his retreating back, but Mustang neither slowed nor offered to be more reasonable. He readjusted his glare to the pile of clothing Mustang had left behind. It was a pair of flannel pajamas in a charcoal color. Ed held them up and to his chagrin, discovered they were much too large for him.

Well, if Mustang was going to be an insufferable jerk anyway . . .

Ed clapped his hands and made some adjustments.

"You better put those back the way you found them before you leave tomorrow," Mustang called over the sound of running water.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sure Mustang."

A half hour later, Ed had managed to wrangle the pajamas on and Mustang had managed to make rice with a few vegetables in it that seemed edible. Ed wasn't impressed with the meal, but he was very thankful when Mustang fished out the water bottles from his suitcase and some of the nicer painkillers Winry had given him for worse weather—if he factored in his busted knee, he felt like his pain levels warranted it. A clap later, Ed had the water heated up and finally rested the rubber containers against his automail ports, and after a few bites of rice, he took a couple of the pills, trying really hard not to acknowledge the way Mustang was looking at him.

"It's rude to stare, you know," Ed growled, but he couldn't find it in himself to put any real heat into it.

"Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?"

Ed glared. "I'm fine. This is all normal." And the pain in his ports was pretty mild too, compared to the way he got during thunderstorms. At least he wasn't bent over a toilet.

Mustang didn't look convinced but didn't press it. Small victories.

A far away boom made them both flinch.

Ed looked at Mustang, the roundness of his eyes, the set of his jaw, the tightness in his hands.

Mustang looked at him, probably finding the same.

Silence ate away at the house while Mustang sat in his chair and picked at his food like he had no intention of eating any of it.

Ed gripped the bowl in his hands and took another bite of rice, the food sitting heavy in his unsettled stomach. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a slow, crawling feeling working its way up his spine, and he couldn't fight another look over his shoulder. Just in case.

No one was there, and it was so much easier to tell when every single light in the house seemed to be turned on.

"When I hear them," Mustang began, startling Ed enough that he almost dropped his fork. Mustang's voice was hushed in the quiet living roomt. "I hear tanks. War. It reminds me of war."

Ed stared at him, entirely unsure if it was safe to breathe, much less speak.

When he had joined the military, one of the first things Havoc ever did was take him aside and tell him that under no uncertain terms should he ever ask about three things: how long had that sandwich been in Breda's desk, Falman's grandmother, and the Ishvalan massacre. Ed kind of got the feeling the first two were to try to soften the seriousness of the last, but he had yet to ask about Falman's grandmother.

But now . . . Mustang was just talking.

His eyes were still rounder than usual, staring unseeing at the wall in front of him. His voice was quiet, like speaking too loudly would bring the memories back harder, faster. "I don't know what the team told you, Edward, but . . . I've done terrible things. Fireworks remind me of all of them."

He took a long few minutes breathing, flinching with Ed on the next faraway pop.

Ed swallowed. Mustang had a good reason.

Ed was just a coward.

Equivalent Exchange.

"I . . .," Ed began, his voice like he'd swallowed sand. He tried again. "I keep thinking . . . "

XxXxX

Finally satisfied that he could sit calmly in bed until the sun came up, Ed unlocked the Rockbell's guest bathroom and opened the door, shutting off the lights behind him.

The red eyes were a surprise.

XxXxX

"Every time . . . I know he's not there, but ever since . . . ever since Scar almost . . ." he screwed his eyes shut and took a steadying breath.

XxXxX

Ed didn't stop to think.

He didn't stop to breathe.

He clapped his hands, and before he even had time to fully form the blade, he'd embedded his automail into his assailant.

XxXxX

"I did something bad."

XxXxX

"B-brother?"

XxXxX

"Have you ever . . . done something because you were scared . . . and you thought you were looking at something else?" Ed whispered.

XxXxX

Ed stared, a cold horror gripping his stomach, settling in his gut like a block of ice.

His metal arm was buried up the wrist in Al's chest plate.

Alphonse.

His little brother.

XxXxX

He risked a glance at Mustang.

The older man was watching, eyes shadowed but gentle, like he knew.

"Yes."

He . . . he knew.

The realization took Ed by surprise.

Mustang knew what Ed was seeing, what he was feeling. He understood the baseless, abject terror that each pop sent through his body, the instinct to fight or flee blazing to life with every unanticipated sound, every moving shadow, every sudden movement. The older man understood in a way that Winry, Granny, and even Al, never could.

He didn't give him those looks like Winry, Granny, and Al did. He didn't call him jumpy. He just . . . knew.

"I . . . Alphonse scared me, and . . . It was an accident."

XxXxX

"Al?" Ed choked.

Surely this was some macabre dream? Surely he would wake up any second, because he didn't just stab his little brother.

He couldn't have.

But every time he looked down at his arm, he saw it disappearing into Alphonse's chest plate. He looked back up at Al, and Ed knew he was just as scared as Ed was.

Very slowly, very gently, Alphonse wrapped a leather gauntlet around his wrist and began to pull the automail from his chest cavity. Metal grated against metal, piercing in the quiet night. Ed half expected Granny or Winry to appear in the hall and see just what he'd done, but it was just Ed and Al in the darkness.

With a final little twist, Al removed the bladed point from inside him, but he didn't let go of Ed's wrist. Ed stared at the blade, glinting faintly silver in Al's huge hand.

He imagined Al's blood bathing steel.

"Brother, what's wrong?" Al whispered.

Ed couldn't decide if he wanted to bolt or slide to the ground and weep right there. He settled for staring at Al, still unable to quite wrap his mind around the idea that he'd just tried to kill his little brother.

If it had been Winry or Pinako, they wouldn't have been so lucky.

Ed swallowed. "Al . . . Al, I'm . . . I'm sorry," he said, voice weak and thready. "I wasn't . . . I didn't mean . . ."

Al took a slow, careful step closer, still holding Ed's bladed hand between them.

Ed took a step back.

"Ed?"

Ed shook his head and pulled. Al let go of his hand and he bolted down the hall, back to their shared room. He knew a locked door wouldn't keep Alphonse at bay for very long, but he hoped his little brother's desire to not wake Winry next door would as he slid the lock into place.

He threw everything he owned into his tiny suitcase and was dressed and out the window in under two minutes, leaving a hastily scrawled note and Alphonse's pleas behind as he trekked across the frosty yard and toward the train station, hoping that he made it in time to catch the five a.m. train.

It didn't matter where it went, so long as he wasn't close enough to hurt those he loved.

XxXxX

He risked another glance at Mustang.

There was no condemnation in his eyes.

"You . . . you don't think I'm crazy?"

Mustang arched an eyebrow. "Edward, you're downright insane," he said, a glint of humor in his eye. "But . . . after almost dying, I'd say this is pretty normal.

Ed released a tight breath. "It . . . it doesn't feel normal. I feel . . . insane," he choked on a laugh, "on edge. Like I can't relax. I can't sleep. I keep jumping at nothing, I stabbed my little brother." He was vaguely aware of his voice climbing into dangerously hysteric territory, but he couldn't bring it back down. He laughed again, because it felt better than crying.

"Edward," Mustang said, caution in his low voice.

Ed's laugh turned into something more gasping. He swallowed it before it became a sob, sagging into the couch, the manic grin melting off his lips and leaving a grimace in its wake.

"I'm exhausted, Colonel," he finally admitted, voice a hollow shell of itself.

Another pop, another collective flinch.

"Has Hughes told you the story of the time I burned off his eyebrows?"

Ed glanced up from staring at his knee. "No."

Mustang smiled. "He wouldn't. Probably thought it made me look bad." The older man set his bowl on the side table and got to his feet, coming to sit on the coffee table across from Ed and picking up the roll of bandages he'd left earlier.

"After the war, I wasn't myself," he said. He didn't elaborate and Ed didn't ask. Instead, he gingerly picked up Ed's foot from the pillow it had been resting on, removing the ice and surveying the damage once again. The ice pack had helped, but the pain meds Winry had given him were nothing to sneeze at either. "The military granted me some leave, so I spent it holed up in my house for a couple of weeks. He tried to call me every day, but I eventually unplugged my phone. It got to be too . . . startling. That just didn't work for Hughes, though."

He started on the bandages, beginning at the middle of Ed's calf and winding tight circles up his leg. Ed winced, squirming just a bit with the discomfort, but Mustang kept talking.

"One day, I was sleeping on the couch; curtains closed, lights off, gloves on, as usual. I woke up with someone standing over me and I . . . lost control." His voice was measured, careful. "Hughes lost his eyebrows that day. He's lucky that's all he lost."

Ed wasn't sure if it was supposed to be funny or not, but he was in an unstable frame of mind, so he huffed a small laugh anyway before thinking the better of it.

Mustang smiled though, something small but genuine. "You're going to feel a bit out of control for a little while. And if you haven't had a panic attack, it's probably coming your way."

Joy.

"Does it go away?"

Mustang tied off the bandage. "Some days are worse than others. But it will fade with time."

Ed thought for a second. "What can I do to . . . not hurt anyone?"

"Don't sleep armed."

Ed glared. "If that's supposed to be some sort of joke—"

Mustang snorted, lips twisting in a half-smile half-apology. "No, not a joke. But maybe wrap it in something at night to keep you from clapping it into a weapon."

Ed hummed, rubbing his metal wrist absently.

"Eat when you can, sleep when you can. You'll be working at your desk until further notice."

Ed didn't have it in him to be offended.

"Most New Year's Eves I hole up in my basement with the phonograph and a glass of whis—white." His eyes snapped up to meet Ed's. "White . . . milk."

Ed arched a very unimpressed eyebrow. "I'm twelve, not four. I know what alcohol is. You picked me up from a bar, remember?"

The uncertainty turned into a smirk. "There's just something about you that makes you seem younger . . ."

"Hey!"

"One more thing."

"What?" Ed snapped.

"Don't push them away."

Ed sobered, arms pulling instinctively around himself. "I don't want—"

"You don't want to hurt them," Mustang finished with a nod. "And they won't understand until it's them, but your . . . your family," he continued with more certainty. "They're going to be your best bet getting through this. They won't leave. Don't push them away."

Ed looked at the curtains, at the floor, anywhere but at Mustang.

"I tried it," Mustang promised. "All it did was remove Hughes' eyebrows for a few weeks. He stayed. Alphonse will, too."

Ed clenched his flesh fist.

He was right.

"Can . . . can I use your phone?"

Ed didn't look up, but he could hear the smile in the older man's voice. "Sure. I'm afraid the phone cord won't reach this far though. You up for the walk?"

Ed gave him a weary nod, removing the water bottles while Mustang rolled his pant leg down for him. He wouldn't be bending that knee much for a while.

When Mustang finally got him to the kitchen table and got the phone in his hand, he hesitated only a second before dialing out.

It was getting late, but Ed knew the rhythm of the Rockbell house. Dinner would have been done by now and Granny would be prepping the shop for business the next day while Winry dove into her latest project. Alphonse would be doing something to help, and Ed was hoping it would be cleaning the kitchen. He didn't want to have to explain himself to Winry and Granny yet.

Alphonse answered on the second ring.

"Brother?!"

Ed tried to tamp down on the guilt flooding his chest. "Hey, Al."

"Brother!" he cried, his echoing voice strained and the word almost sounding like a sob. "Where are you? Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, Al," Ed answered, burying his free hand in his bangs. "I'm at the Colonel's house."

"You scared me so bad, Ed. I went to the station and they said you got on the early train to Yuflam, but that didn't make any sense, and there wasn't another train leaving today because of the holiday, and I didn't know where you were and what was wrong, and I just—"

"Al," Ed interrupted quietly. His brother's babbling grounded to a halt. Ed felt a sudden heat to his eyes that he blinked away hard. He looked around the kitchen, but Mustang had disappeared to some other corner of the house.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed, the apology weak compared to what he had put Al through. "About last night . . ."

Alphonse listened patiently to his explanation, then told him he was an idiot and proceeded to give him the tongue thrashing of his life. Ed deserved every bit of it, but the part that really stung was the way Al kept making those sort-of-crying noises throughout.

It took a while for Al to calm down, but Ed promised he would call when he woke up in the morning. He left out the part about his injury, but he supposed Al would find out when he arrived in a couple of days.

When Ed finally placed the phone back in its cradle, Mustang appeared in the kitchen. "How is he?"

Ed smiled. "He's upset. But he's better. I . . . screwed up pretty bad this time."

Mustang moved to help him up, then started to guide him back toward the living room. "Well, you're still young. You've got plenty more time to screw up in more epic ways."

Ed scowled. "Wow, real encouraging Mustang."

"I'm just making predictions based off of your track record."

"I haven't done anything!"

"Remember that time you set the office on fire?"

"Once! For not even a minute!"

"Tell that to the entire front half of our floor that was already evacuating the building before I could get there and put it out."

Mustang eased Ed onto the couch, and Ed wondered if there was a way to trip him without aggravating his knee. It was soon too late though, because Mustang then twisted him around so that he was reclining, elevating Ed's foot on a stack of pillows.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Mustang said, straightening, "I'm going to go drag the phonograph up here. Any requests?"

Ed glared, but crossed his arms to keep himself from punching Mustang in the face. He was amiable like that. "Have any Vuccini?"

Mustang frowned at him. "And since when did you become cultured, brat?"

"Since my lousy excuse for a father left behind exactly twenty-nine records, and four of them are Vuccini, jerk."

Mustang wasn't in the least bit offended, and in fact smiled. "I didn't pick you for the type, Fullmetal. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, Mustang returned from the basement, machine and album in tow, and one of Vuccini's arias soon flooded the living room with sound, almost enough to drown out the next series of pops and echoing booms.

Mustang picked up a dark blanket he'd brought at some point and draped it over Ed. Ed blinked in surprise, but Mustang was already gone, settling in his chair with a blanket of his own as the orchestra launched into a quick, bouncing number, and somehow he felt just a little bit safer.

Ed decided that if there had to be fireworks, this wasn't the worst place to hide from them.

And maybe Mustang wasn't the worst company in the world.

"Hey, Mustang?"

The Colonel blinked at him sleepily from across the room. "Huh?"

"Happy New Year." It was as close as Ed could get to a proper thank you and still save some of his dignity.

Mustang smiled, and Ed knew once more that nobody quite understood like Mustang. "Happy New Year, brat."

And that was as close as Mustang would get to a "you're welcome."

XxXxX

A/N: I was aiming for 5K :'D

But it got out of hand xD Shoutout to firewood-figs and akarri for their help on this one. I honestly don't think this would have been written without them 3

Wishing you and yours the Merriest of Christmases, and prayers for a new year filled with hope, adventure, peace, and joy 3 Love you guys, thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review if you have the time, and I'll catch you on the last chapter of SSB, and hopefully before the next year ;)

God Bless,

-RainFlame

#Parental Roy #ptsd #fma fanfiction #fma fanfic #by RainFlame #edward elric #roy mustang #hurt comfort #angst #alphonse elric

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 3 years

Text

Chapter 25: Timing

‘my soul chose yours and a soul doesn't just forget that’ - b. m.

Lourdes showed up right then. We stepped away from each other, startled, struggling to look like we weren’t caught doing something wrong.

Lourdes didn’t seem to notice.

“There you are!”‌‌ She smiled. “Finally made it out?”

I‌ looked down, shyly.‌ “Yes. I‌ was just about to go back in.”

“What? Why? Let’s get out of here before someone comes to find you to do more work.”

I‌ smiled.‌ “Lou, I‌ have to work.”

She rolled her eyes, and looked at Harry. “This used to be our favorite holiday. We don’t live here, but the Palace is full of little secret places. We should take Harry on a tour.”

“I’d love that.” He said. “Palaces are fun when I don’t have to live in them.”

Lourdes laughed.‌ “Where should we start?”

“Again, I–I have to work.”

Lourdes gave me an exasperated look. “Stop, the day is basically over.”

“You know there’s a black tie dinner tonight, right?”

She sighed. “Tonight! Hours away! Besides, if they really need you, they’ll come find you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Harry, some help?”‌ She grinned at him. “You want Maggie to come, right?”

He looked at me, and sighed, longingly. “Always.”

There was no going back after that.

I ‌grabbed my shoes and ran towards the opposite end of the hallway, away from the reception hall.

“Fine, but let’s run before someone catches us.”

We took the staff’s passageways to avoid being seen while we made our way. Unlike the rest of the Palace, they were mostly all old cement and industrial lights, with wooden or backsplash floors that needed fixing. Places that weren’t seen by the people who ‘mattered’, only used by servants to stay out of the family’s way or make their way faster through the palace.

The spiral, stone steps were steep upwards to the Clock tower. We climbed it slowly, out of breath from the long walk. The Clock tower wasn’t meant as a place to be visited; as we explained to Harry, though the Clock was now a hugely popular touristic attraction, it was created to be functional, and the tower where it was situated merely a place for maintenance.

Therefore, it was simple. A round room of barely even wooden floorboards and high top ceilings. Clean, but empty. Across from the door we walked through was the clock; it’s lowest end was below the floor we were on, and it’s highest point out of reach even to Harry in all his height.

“I don’t know why but I pictured it a lot smaller.”‌ Harry noted, leaning on the railing separating the room from the clock itself.

Standing by his side, I‌ pointed down to the river below.

“Perfect view.”‌

He smiled.‌‌ “Can they see us?” He asked, reasonably, noticing the public gathering to watch the boat parade and the separate stand for the press.

“Nope.”‌ I‌ told him. “It’s mirrored glass outside.”

“Nice.”‌ He knocked his shoulder on mine, lightly, making inexplicably blush.

“Shall we?”‌, Lourdes asked, kicking off her flats.

“Lourdes, we have a perfectly good view from here.”

She ignored me, instead sneaking below the railing to edge herself forward, holding one of the metal bars securing the clock in place to pull herself up. She quickly climbed the railing and stepped forward.

“What–woah–”‌ Harry stepped back as my sister climbed up onto the clock.

The old clock had several metal structures securing it in place, as well as all the other important and ornamental parts. The pointers, for example, were held together by two metal bars shaped like an X, which had a smaller circle inside connected to the engines. The X and the circle, my siblings and I had found as children, formed an almost perfect climbing hole.

“Come on!”‌‌ Lourdes called, impatient.‌ “What are you guys waiting for?”

“Is that… allowed?”‌ Harry asked, almost whispery.

I‌ gave him a cheeky grin. “Are you really afraid of breaking the rules? You, of all people?”

“Fair. But, you know, I’m a guest here.‌‌ I‌ already kidnapped their princesses, I‌ don’t want to give your family more reason to hate me.”

“Are you chickening out?!”‌, Lourdes called, already climbing into the top part of the circle.

“We’re fine here.”‌ I‌ told her, who then made chicken sounds at us.

“I‌ expected that from Harry, British and all, but you’re Savoyen, Maggie. You’re made of stronger stuff!”

“Lou–”

“Okay, that’s it.” Harry said, peeling off his coat and suit jacket, starting to fold his long sleeves past his elbows.

“I–”‌‌‌ I‌ stuttered, remembering to look away from his arms, “You–you don’t have to, you’ll get dirty from the dust.”

Lourdes made chicken noises again.

Harry sighed.‌ “You understand.”

Before I could say no, he threw one over the railing, where he sat and pulled himself up, standing on top of it, starting to look around at the metal bars to try and figure out where he should go next.

“Lourdes, if he falls, I’ll tell Papa it’s your fault.”

She shrugged. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Harry laughed, loosened his tie, and climbed up.

“Are you coming?”‌ He asked, looking at me, a joyful smile in his lips.

“She can’t…”‌ Lourdes mocked, in a sing-song voice, “She’ll be queen one day!‌ What will the church say?!”

“I am wearing a dress,‌ Lourdes-Abigail!” I‌ complained, as Harry laughed, amused.

“You do every year, yet I‌ can’t help but notice this is the only year you seem to be struggling with that.”

I ‌sighed, knowing I couldn’t tell her it wasn’t about my title, but about not wanting Harry to see me losing all composure in order to climb into a clock like a child.

But… Harry was there, too. And it was very fun. So I‌ undid my belt and removed my overcoat, placing it along Harry’s in the railing, to the side, leaving my shoes near it, too. Now wearing my short-sleeved, simple black dress, I sat on the railings facing the door and turned to the clock, one leg at a time, trying to maintain some sort of etiquette.

The hard part came with getting to my feet, for which I‌ had to raise one leg first. If I did it on the other side, I wouldn’t have the metal bars to pull myself up; if I‌ did it on this side, I would essentially showcase my underwear. This wasn’t a problem I‌ had had when it was just my siblings with me.

Harry was watching me, uncertain, trying to figure out a way to help.

I‌ sighed. “Would you look away, please?”

“What?”

I sighed, blushing. “I am wearing a dress.”‌

“Oh.”‌ It was now his turn to blush slightly, turning to face the river. “‌Of course.”

I‌ pulled myself up swiftly, only almost slipping in the railings because of my stockings.‌ Then, I‌ took the small step into the bottom part of the metal circle, where, inexplicably, Harry still was. Because it was a circle, and I was wearing stockings, though I had tried to step to the side of him, as to keep my distance, I slid slightly and almost fell, but Harry was quick to wrap his arms around me.

“Oops, there you go.”‌ He said, as we chuckled, as if his arms around me didn’t send shivers through my whole body.

“You need to keep climbing, we can’t both stay here.”‌ I‌ said, enjoying the proximity more than I should.

“Okay, but I don’t know how!” He explained, exasperated.

“There, that side. Use the bar to pull yourself up and hoister your body into the next arm of the X.”‌ I explained as he loosed his hold on me to turn around and do as I said, but as he was wearing socks, he, too, slid back into place. Now it was my arms around his muscled back.

We laughed.

“I’ll just stay here.” He said.

“At what age should I‌ expect to become so completely physically useless?”‌ Lourdes complained from above us.

“Good God, she’s brutal.” Harry whispered, with an amused laugh.

“It’s the teenage hormones.” I‌ explained, smiling. “She’ll grow out of it.”

“I‌ heard that.”‌‌ Lourdes said. “And just because you said it, I’ll make it a point to become even worse as I‌ grow up.”

“Why don’t you help?”‌ I asked her, laughing; “We can’t all be junior athletes.”

Sighing, she leaned down and offered Harry a hand. “Come on, I’ll pull you up, but you have to use your legs.”‌‌ She said. “And it’s ex-athlete.”

Harry held her hand and took an impulse to hoister himself up to the next section of the X.

After he had settled in place, he heaved a long sigh, and asked: “Why ex?”

“I haven’t skated since last year.”‌ She explained.

“You can always go back.”

“It’s not how it works… You don’t recover that much time away… besides, my trainer’s contract is about to run out. When it does, he’ll move on and train someone else.”

After I‌ had climbed up into the opposite section to Harry, I‌ looked at him. We shared a look of worry over this, but, much like me, he also seemed lost as to what to do.

“Oh, it’s starting!”‌ Lourdes exclaimed.

We followed her finger to see a large vessel of the Navy making its way down across the river. On top of it, soldiers lined up perfectly, saluting.

Ship after ship, bigger, smaller, weirdly shaped, with cannons, old and new, made their way through the river, some shooting empty cannon balls up to the sky to the cheering crowds. Some holding bands in perfect formation playing our national anthem.

“So,” I started, after we’d been in silence for a while, “how much better is our Clock to your London Eye?”

Harry grinned. “I will not dignify that question.”

“Because you know it’s so much better?” Lourdes asked.

“Because the answer should be obvious.” He replied, amused.

“Because you know it’s so much better.” She affirmed, confident.

“No!” He protested, making us laugh.

Another ship went by, this one releasing a show of fireworks. We stayed silent, listening to the thunderous sound.

“Louis found this place.” Lourdes said. “Do you remember, Maggie?”

I smiled at the river. “Oui… A lifetime ago.”

After the last ship had passed by to the sound of excited applause by the cheering crowds, we all released tired sighs almost at the same time, and remained silent for a minute just appreciating the movement of the people below.

“They’ll be looking for us.” Harry said, eventually.

“Yeah.” I agreed.

No one moved.

“You should come back.” Lourdes said, to Harry. “Some time when there’s no big event, just to visit. That way we have more time to show you around. And you should come to Callois, or Haydell! Those are the best Palaces.”

He was smiling at her. “Well, I’d be happy to come back. It sounds fun. It… it might be hard to justify it without a proper reason.”

“Can’t the reason be you were invited?”

He looked pensive. “I… I guess it can?”

“Well, then you’re invited. Isn’t he, Maggie?”

They looked at me. I felt a knot of… not anxiety, something lighter in my stomach.

I smiled at Harry. “I… We’d love to have you.”

He smiled, softly, at that.

Lourdes looked back down at the river, listing all the things in Callois and Haydell she wanted to show Harry, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. They were full of yearning and heavy with the weight of all that wasn’t being said – it was hard to look away. It made me want to cry.

“Hello?!”

I shook my head, looking at my sister. “What?”

She sighed, annoyed. “I asked… how much money do you have on you right now, Harry?”

He seemed confused, as I’m sure I did. “Uh. I don’t know?”

“Will you give me all of it if I can hop off from up here without using my hands or arms at all?”

“Lourdes-Abigail…” I started.

“Mind your business, Maggie.” She interrupted. “You’re not allowed an opinion as you have insider knowledge on this matter.”

I sighed. Harry just seemed even more confused.

“No hands or arms?” He asked.

“Surely, you’re not considering this.”

“How much money?” She asked again.

Grinning now, he picked his wallet from his back pocket and went through it.

“Uhm… sixty pounds.”

“Not euros? Ugh, fine. It’ll do. Do we have a deal?”

“Well, I’m very intrigued, so yes.”

Perched up on the upper arch of the metal circle, Lourdes turned to the side and started to slide down, arms crossed in her chest. When she reached the first arm of the X, she used the metal connection to the wall to slide around it, and sit again on the circle on the other side. From there, she pressed her feet against the wall using it to keep her steady against the metal of the circle as she slid down, the circle now to her back, quickly reaching the lower leg of the X. From there, she was able to take a bit step onto the railing and jump down to the ground, turning around to us and throwing her arms in the air, to then slowly curtsey in victory.

Harry and I chuckled, amused. Harry slow clapped. He leaned down and handed her the money.

“Well earned.”

“Thank you.” She took another curtsey, smug.

“What was that, the ballet, gymnastics, or the skating training?”

She shrugged, counting the money. “All of it combined, I guess.”

“Impressive.” Harry said, giving me a quick look before going on. “Why are you quitting, again? That much talent shouldn’t go to waste.”

She sighed. “I just… I don’t know, I don’t like it as much anymore.”

“You haven’t skated since last year, you said so yourself.” I reminded her. “Maybe you just don’t remember how much you like it.”

“Whatever, it’s done.” She shrugged. “Ivan’s contract is about to expire anyway.”

“Hey, Mary.” Harry called. For a moment, my heart skipped a beat to him using the old ‘nickname’.

“Yes?”

“Didn’t you say you always wanted to get proper skating lessons?”

I stared at him, confused.

“I… did?” I said, trying to pass the question as an answer. Lourdes was looking at me, brows raised.

“You did?” She asked. “You hate ice skating.”

“No, I don’t.” I dismissed. “I just… I don’t love it, because I’m not great at it. But, maybe if I had lessons…”

Lourdes scoffed, mocking, but looked away to put her money in her pocket.

I exchanged a quick look with Harry, who shrugged, nodding excitedly. It wasn’t a… bad plan. It was just an unusual one. But, maybe it was time for desperate measures.

We heard steps on the stairs, and all looked at the door, expectantly, as if being caught mid-mischief which, in a way, we had been.

From it emerged Auguste, breathless.

“Ma’am.” He sighed. “The–the King–he… he needs you to–”, he paused, wheezing. “Guests are leaving.”

“Oh, right.” I nodded. “We have to say goodbye?”

He nodded. “And Princess Maryanne was looking for you, ma’am.” He added to Lourdes.

“Oh, thanks.” She said, before looking at us. “I’ll go see her. See you downstairs?”

“Sure.” She left. I looked at Auguste. “Okay, I’ll be right down, Auguste. Merci.”

He nodded again, breathless, looking at Harry.

“I’ll wait for you, ma’am.”

“No need.” I assured him. “I’ll meet you back at the reception hall.”

He nodded one more time, and bowed, before leaving.

We waited until the sound of his footsteps on the stairs had faded. Then I tentatively looked at Harry, already saddened at having to leave. He was looking around at the room.

“This is a cool place.” He said.

“It is, I like it, too.”

We continued to just hang from the clock, seemingly trying to forget about the obligations knocking at our doors.

“We should–” I started, and he cleared his throat, nodding.

Carefully, we made our way down from the clock. Harry first, then me. He offered his hand to help me down from the railing, which I took. It didn’t stop me from slipping in my stockings again, though, and he had to step quickly closer to catch me in his arms just in time.

The problem was, now his arms were tight around me, our bodies glued together, my feet barely touching the floor. His warmth and mine were one, his breath and mine were one, and nothing else in the world existed.

“I miss you.” He said, suddenly. So suddenly I looked at him for a long time, speechless, convincing myself I hadn’t imagined it. But he was looking beyond me, awkwardly.

I didn’t know how to respond, at least not while his arms were keeping my standing, at least not while my insides felt like they were burning.

“I wanted to text you.” I confessed, softly. “But I guess I felt… guilty.”

I watched his eyes slowly reach mine again, hovering every inch of my face on their way.

“I guess I still do.” I said.

He nodded, slowly. “So you… you regret it? The… kiss?”

“No.” I shook my head, quickly. “Not one bit.”

We smiled, and I felt as thought my skin was burning.

“You?” I asked.

Slowly, he touched his forehead to mine. “Impossible.”

An infinity later, or maybe half a second, just as the distance between us was growing smaller, the door opened again.

We were so startled I must have jumped three steps back. I don’t know how much she saw, but something told me there was not a chance that my mother wouldn’t be absolutely livid, regardless.

“Marie-Margueritte.” She called, even-toned, calm to a chilling degree. “You have neglected your work long enough today.”

“I was just going downstairs.” I explained, avoiding her eyes, rushing towards my overcoat and shoes.

“You shouldn’t have left at all.” She added. “You have a duty.”

“It’s my fault, ma’am.” Harry told her. “I told the princesses how beautiful the Palace was and they wanted to show me more of it. They are wonderful hostesses.”

I sighed, knowing that wouldn’t help. I put on my coat quickly, and my shoes, and walked towards my mother, who was still seething looking at Harry, now putting on his blazer.

I could almost see it behind her eyes: the enraging need to tell Harry off for the way he spoke to her in Kensington Palace, and probably also for keeping me away from the reception.

I held her hand. “Shall we go, Maman?”

She sighed. Wordlessly, she turned around and pulled me with her by the hand.

“Keep up, Your Royal Highness, you wouldn’t want to get lost.” She said, without looking back.

It was a long way back downstairs in total and utter silence. My mother didn’t let go of my hand until we were inside the reception hall, and she followed me until I was standing with my father in place to say our goodbye to our guests.

I wanted to find a moment to talk to Harry again, before he had to leave. But there was no moment.

Next thing I knew, he was standing in front of us, saying his formal goodbyes, gently kissing my knuckles, and walking away.

— ---- —

It was hard to fall asleep that night, thinking about him, about his arms around me, about what might have happened if my mother hadn’t arrived until it was already sunny out.

A few hours later, I stumbled down for breakfast only half-awake, glad that I had no work, hoping to get back into bed as fast as possible.

Unfortunately, while my mother and sister discussed her upcoming school commitments, I remembered the plan Harry and I had silently hatched the day before.

“Maman,” I started, “What is going on with Lourdes’ trainer? Is he still available?”

My parents exchanged a look. “Just for a few more weeks, unless your sister changes her mind.”

“I’m not.” Lourdes said.

My father folded his newspaper, and looked at her.

“You know, Mr. Federova has phoned frequently to inquire about you, Lourdes.” He said. “He thinks it would be a tremendous waste to let go of your years of hard work.”

“I said I don’t want to skate.” She repeated, more forcefully.

“Well, anyway.” I interrupted, cheery. “I was thinking, since he’s paid for the season and not working, that I might take some lessons.”

“Lessons?” My mother asked, confused.

“Ice skating lessons.”

Lourdes laughed. My father looked at me, slightly concerned. My mother merely nodded and said, “alright, I’ll call him and let him know to expect you.”

“Are we–?” my father started, clearing his throat, “are we sure that’s a good idea? Margueritte is… well–”

“Well?” I asked.

“A disaster.” Lourdes volunteered.

“Excuse me?”

“I just mean, you have many talents, dear,” my father intervened, “but coordination is, well, not one of the bigger ones.”

“Excus– I’m very! I–” I struggled, livid. “I’m very… sportsy!”

“Wow.” Lourdes sighed, sarcastic.

“Shut up. I’m good with– feet– sports! I can play! I play p–polo and stuff! Tennis!”

She shook her head. “Not to mention your talent for words.”

“Shut up! Mom?!”

Mom was grinning ever so slightly as she drank her tea.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” My father replied.

“I’ll be fine! You’ll see, I bet I’ll be great at it!”

“Maggie, you can’t be serious…”

I looked at my sister, confidently. “Why do you care? You’re not using him.”

“He’s a former Olympian! He can’t teach you the basics, it’s insulting!”

“I can ice skate, it won’t be the basics!”

“Please.”

“You wanna bet?”

She didn’t. But I kept up the charade, amping up my enthusism more than I actually felt it. Eventually, a few days later, when it was time to leave for my first lesson, Lourdes announced she was coming too.

“Ivan is a highly awarded, accomplished ice skating champion. If he’ll be subjected to teaching you how to stand on your own legs just because he’s been paid through the season, at least I should apologize in person.”

“…I can stand on my own legs.” I said, rolling my eyes.

Ivan Federova looked… scary. He wasn’t tall, or big in any way, it was like he had somehow maintained the same body he’d had when he won Olympic gold three times back to back in his late teenage years. Now he was in his fifties and didn’t seem to be capable of smiling… or personal contact. He’d made little effort to learn either French or English, but it wasn’t usually a problem, as he didn’t talk much.

Lourdes was mostly quiet on the way to the rink. Over the years, my family had signed rental deals with three ice rinks around Savoy. One was close to Lourdes’ school, where she practiced every day after classes under the supervision of her security and trainer. The other was closer to Haydell Castle. As Corsilla was a small town, the nearest rink was a half an hour drive away, in Grauville. The last one, where we were going today, was close to Callois Palace, where my parents resided full time, for practice during weekends or school holidays. Ivan’s contract stipulated he practiced with Lourdes in whatever rink was easier for her depending on the time of the year.

Upon running into Ivan in the empty rink, Lourdes launched into an apology and explanation of her decision to quit, very professional in all of her thirteen years-old. Ivan cut her off after around five minutes of this, looking at me instead and saying, in a gruff, heavily Russian-accented voice, “I train you now?”

“Yes.” I said, stepping forward, schooling my features into enthusiasm instead of fear, “I’m very much looking forward to it. I may not have much experience, but what I lack in-”

“Stretch.”

“What?”

“Stretch!” he gestures to my whole body.

“Go stretch.” Lourdes explained, looking appalled that I had to ask. “Your legs specially.”

I ran to the sidelines of the ice, and, unsure of where to begin, started doing the leg stretches I usually did at the gym.

Ivan had me put on my old, barely ever used pair of skates, said something in a mixture of Russian and French, of which I understood only a part about having to break them in, and then told me to do laps around the rink so he could see ‘my form’, which was, of course, a disgrace. He sighed heavily after I finished a slow, wombly lap, and stepped into the ice himself to teach me how to skate more confidently.

Lourdes, who out of principle hadn’t brought her skates, watched from the bleachers. When she first attempted to yell out advice, Ivan shouted, “No help from public, merci. This is private”, and she sunk in her seat for the following half an hour.

Around that time was when I realized I would soon be sporting fresh dark purple bruises all over my body. Ivan discovered that what he had meant to teach me would take longer than he had intended. First it was skating without slouching, then it was breaking, then he had to push me very hard to make turns without wanting to scream.

When Ivan declared the lesson over, I sighed in relief and sat on the floor, exhausted. He quickly reminded me to go home and be back the following day.

“Tomorrow?!” I asked, appalled.

Lourdes kept coming with me for my ‘lessons’ even though she looked as though she was being forced to go; the first time she brought her skates and got into the ice with me, Ivan yelled at her that this was a private lesson. She sat in the bleacher fuming, arms crossed on her chest.

A week later, I was not able to move, but my parents kept saying they were proud I wasn’t giving up. Lourdes came back the following lesson and barged into the rink on her skates; before Ivan said anything, she told him “our family is paying for an empty rink, might as well have both of us use it, get our money’s worth”, then she just skated to the other side of the ice and pretended she wasn’t watching us. It was kind of amusing.

The real deal started when Ivan tried to teach me how to spin. The first one was reasonably easy, standing in place, just using my hands and knees to create momentum and letting the ice do the rest. The danger came with a sit spin. It looked so seamless when he or Lourdes did it, but it involved a lot more steps than I would have imagined. I had to skate confidently in one leg, raise the other backwards and bring it forward as I used my arms to spin in place. Ivan’s accent got worse when he was frustrated, and I hated being so clearly bad at something, especially in front of my obviously talented little sister, so there were a lot of high tempers in the ice.

I wanted to text Harry every day, tell him every little bit of all of this, but the more I stared into his number, the more terrified I felt. I knew if I started there would be no going back. If I sent one message, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And if there was anything V. E. Day had proved, it was that there was just too much between us.

At one point, when Ivan was getting louder and I was trying to convince myself not to leave, Lourdes skated towards us - breaching the invisible line he had drawn between us - and stopped between me and him. “Maggie,” she started, and when her trainer tried to yell she just waved an impatient hand at him, focusing on me, “you’re too afraid to fall when you lunge.”

I sighed. “Yeah, my bad, I should just ignore the prospect of feeling pain.”

She brushed off my sarcasm with remarkable ease, “Get in position.” I did as she said, and she approached, slapping my buttcheek.

“Hey!”

“See this? You might not have a lot of it, but it’s something! It’s fat, which means your blow will be cushioned. And this arm right here will stop the fall as soon as it comes–”

“Is there a way where I avoid falling?”

“No.” She and Ivan replied, together.

“If you fear fall, you can’t skate.” He told me.

“Go again.” Lourdes said, skating backwards.

I sighed and tried again, giving it an honest effort, but falling on my ass regardless.

“You’re too slow when you spin, so you don’t have enough momentum to stay on your feet.”

“God, if it’s so easy why don’t you do it?!”, I stupidly said, exasperated.

She nailed it, of course. Took a graceful, long stride forward, then turned backwards as if it was nothing, then flipped her weight from her right leg to the left in a step forward, using the right leg to get momentum into a spin. She spun wildly on herself atop her left skate as she crouched down on her left knee, right leg stretched forward with her arms above it reaching for her foot. Then, just as she had started to slow down she stood up and her right leg stretched backwards; she grabbed hold of the blade in the skate and pulled it upwards behind her back, above her head, the move giving her more momentum so the spin caught speed again. It felt as if several minutes passed, but I couldn’t take my eyes from her. Eventually, she let go of her leg, which swiftly crossed in front of the left. She leapt into her right foot now, allowing her left leg to bend backwards slightly, starting to spin again for another several laps with her hands up above her head, torso laid backways on her waist. When she started to slow, she straightened up, opened her arms, and stepped out of her spin gracefully backwards, breaking perfectly in front of us.

She had a victorious, emotional smile on her lips, and a glint to her eyes I had never seen before.

We were silent for a couple of seconds as she breathed heavily; Then, Ivan said, “Show her your triple lutz.”

She looked at him, thoughtfully, for a long time. I thought she was going to ask why, and was ready to answer ‘inspiration!’, but she didn’t. She drew in a long breath, and stepped forward.

I skated to Ivan slowly while she took up speed and turned to skate backwards, one leg behind her. She leaned forward slightly and next thing I knew she was twisting in the air. She landed smiling, on her left leg, right one gracefully up behind her back. She skated to us slowly, panting slightly.

“Sloppy.” Ivan told her. I gave him a shocked look he ignored.

“Well, I haven’t skated in months, ever since–”

“Excuses don’t make podium.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

She skated away again and repeated the jump. I applauded, mumbling to Ivan without moving my lips, “Don’t antagonize her.”

“I teach.” He replied, unaffected.

She broke in front of us forcefully, still smiling. Still breathless, but looking more alive than I’d ever seen her.

“That was awesome!” I said.

“You under rotate. You lose points.”

She looked at the ice beneath her feet, sighing, hands to her waist. Silently, she skated off again.

I looked at Ivan. “Seriously, what’s the plan?”

“Remind her what she loves.”

“…being insulted by you?”

He grinned, still watching her.

Her third jump was… well, to me it was exactly the same as the other two. And as Ivan’s expression didn’t change, I had to wait until she skated back to us.

“Flat edge. Lose points.” Ivan said before she even reached us.

Instead of breaking, she took speed again and took off for another try. Except this time she did her first jump, landed, and immediately jumped up again in another twist in the air.

“Triple lutz, triple toe.” Ivan nodded. When she approached us again, she was out of air; she doubled down on herself, hands to her knees, panting. “Luchshe.” When I seemed confused, he corrected, in French. “Mieux.” Better.

“It was amazing!” I exclaimed.

“Axel.” Ivan told Lourdes.

She straightened up, looked at him, no longer smiling. She fixed her ponytail and skated off again.

This time when she skated backwards on her right foot, she didn’t lean forward, and instead looked backwards at the last minute to make a fast switch to her left skate to jump forward quickly, arms crossed to her chest. Her hair spun wildly in the air with her, but when she landed she fell on her side.

I startled, gasping, and Ivan held my arm to keep me from going to her.

“No training.” He yelled out. “That happens.”

She got to her feet, shook off the ice in her pants, and tried again, taking up speed, skating past us without giving us even a glance. She didn’t fall this time. I looked at Ivan.

“Bad entry. Lose points.”

Lourdes had clearly heard him, she didn’t even bother coming to us, instead just took up speed and tried again. She fell.

“You lean your back to your side.” Ivan shouted after her. “Your back needs to be over your feet.”

She tried again. She stumbled on her feet in the landing, but didn’t fall. I thought it was a victory.

“Elbows in.” Ivan shouted. “The, uh– poids stay center! The… weigh.” He translated. “The weight stays center, not back.”

She tried again.

Ivan crossed his arms on his chest. “Good.” He said, nodding. “Good.”

I smiled, looking at her, but she didn’t skate to us. “He said it was good!” I shouted.

But she kept going. She jumped again. And then again. She fell back. She jumped again. Ivan sighed. “Enough now.”

She jumped. She fell. She was panting as she skated to get more speed to go again. Ivan shook his head. “No good.” “What?!” I asked.

“That’s punishment. Not training.”

“Lourdes!” I yelled. “That’s enough!”

She jumped again. Ivan sighed.

She did it twice more before I stepped into her path when she was skating past us to get more speed. She almost lost her balance, but managed to skate past me. I followed. She jumped again, and fell. I reached her after she’d gotten up, but was still slow enough I could wrap my arms around her to stop her in place.

“Maggie!” She shouted. “Stop!”

“It’s enough!” I shouted back, feeling a confusing knot on my throat. “That’s good, it’s beautiful. Stop.”

I felt her gloved hands on my arms, trying to pull them off her.

“This is none of your business, just–”

“You’re hurting yourself! You’re out of breath! Stop it!”

“No!”

She doubled down, trying to get out of my reach. We fell to the ground, instead, but I kept my arms firmly in place.

“This is not about you!” She shouted, reaching back to try and push me away.

“I know!” I shouted back, feeling my eyes water. “I know!”

We struggled. I wondered where Ivan was that he hadn’t come to help me yet. We must have looked ridiculous, and that thought didn’t stop the tears.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?! You love this, you’re great at it, you know how to do it, so why are you doing this?!”

I heard a small gasp of air and stopped moving. She let her head fall to rest on the ice, one hand over her eyes. We were on our sides; I leaned back just slightly so she could lay on her back, allowing me to look at her, finding her lips trembling, nose red.

“Lourdes-” I whispered.

“He’s gone.” She cried. “He won’t be there. He’ll never be there.”

It was enough to make me cry, too. But I tried to steady my voice when I asked, softly, “be where, Lou?”

I didn’t need to know who, of course. Her tears fell heavily down her face to her hair.

“I always thought-” she hiccuped, “I always pictured it. Competing. Winning. I always thought– Whenever I dreamed about the– The Olympics. I had it all planned–”

“And you can go!” I told her, teary.

She shook her head. “I was going to do it, and I was going to finish and in the end when– when people clap and I bow, I was going to do the bows and then I was going to find you guys in your seats.” She took her hands off her eyes, and stared at the ceiling. “Mom, dad, you and Lou… I was going to skate to where you were, and do another bow just for you.”

I felt my chest tighten painfully. She brought her hands to her lips and blew a kiss to the ceiling.

“I was going to do this and wave and skate off… and– and I wouldn’t even be too worried waiting for my notes, because you’d be there.”

I felt my own tears fall to the ice, and let my head rest on the floor, too.

“You’d have gone, right? All of you. If it was the Olympics, I mean.”

“Of course.” I told her. “Of course we would.”

She looked at me. “And now he won’t be there.”

“Oh, sweetie.” I leaned in, touching my head to her shoulder. “He… He’d be so upset to hear this.”

She sat up. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” I replied, looking at the ceiling. “’He won’t be there’? Well, no, Lourdes, he won’t be anywhere. He won’t… he won’t see my wedding. My kids will never know him. So, what should I do? Should I never get married? Never have kids?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” She complained. “Every time I get in the ice, every time I look at my skates, that’s all I can think about! That he won’t see the next jump I learn, that he won’t help me pick a dress or a song. That he won’t be there when I win–”

“Yeah, Lourdes, you don’t think I know what that is?!” I sat up, grabbing hold of her elbow so she’d look at me. “My entire existence now is a reminder that he’s gone! Every time someone calls me ‘Crown Princess’, every time I think about my future, it just means that he’s gone! Should I give that up, too?! Hope you’re ready to be Queen, then!”

She shook her head, but her lips were trembling again. I reached out with my hand, caressing her back. When she started sobbing, I pulled her close, and she let me, leaning into my arms tightly wrapped around her.

I let her cry, for as long as she needed. When her sobs spaced out, I started clearing the ice off her clothes gently.

“Everything reminding us of him is just… what grief is.” I told her. “It sucks. It’s… it’s all this love that was his, that we still feel, but have no one to give it to, anymore.” I brushed the hair off her face with my hands. “But we don’t stop. We can’t. He’d be so pissed if we did. We just… we keep going. And we remember him. I teach my kids about the uncle they’ll never know. You get to that podium and think of him… and wherever he is, he’ll be proud. That’s what we do.”

I kissed the back of her head, and she sat up, cleaning her face with her hands.

“But for that to happen, you can’t quit.”

She stared at her hands for a while, calming her breath. Then, she nodded.

“Okay.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: Happy holidays!!!!!! Hi. How are you? How’s your end of year been? I am home, christmas was chill. Ate a lot. Back to work now. Trying to pull a hamilton and write every night like i’m running out of time. Did anyone watch Bridgerton? Because I am OBSESSED. Anyway. I KNOW. Another moment interrupted. Thsoe can only happen a few times guys, I promise we’re nearly there haha THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I am so blessed to have you and so grateful to you for being here! I’d love to know your thoughts. Anything you’d like to see more of? Other than H and MM, of course! lol Savoy or MM’s family things? Work? Royal events? Friends? Let me know =) Also, I’m still working on fixing a masterlist of chapters, so look out for that!

We’re nearing phase 2 of the story and I am excited to share with you! THANK YOU FOR READING! And.......HAPPY NEW YEAR!]

#Princeharryff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #Princeharryfanfic #prince harry #brf #modern royalty au #modern royalty fanfic #fanfiction #OPITCphff #chapters

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acefrogmonarch · 5 years

Text

HC pt. 3

Story Time! with the bat fam

The bat language!

It's just glares and different forms of glares. Semi-glare. Glare. Glare-glare. That's about five sentences.

Ravin has cracked the code and communicated with them. They understand why Raven could but not how Mari understands them.

They are very confused because this little flower shouldn't, like why??? She wears her heart on her sleeve and you can tell when she's angry or sad. Dick and bruce do it but Mari catches them.

Unknown to them, when Mari wants to be, she can 'cut' off her emotions.

Mari found Damian to be semi-attractive. Damian was like eh, she's another girl.

But he was about 5'11 at this point, and for years to come, he would grow. Mari, herself, is barely reaching 5ft. She considers herself lucky that she even reaches 5'5.

She was 20 when she did.

She is very angry at taller beings than her. Dick is 5'11 while Jason is 6'3, Bruce is taller than both of them.

Mari hates them all. Jason still calls her a bean, even when she has him in a choke-hold during a sparring match. Mari will not hesitate to throw hands. Instead of mellowing out, she did the opposite.

Jason Todd has had sex with Talia before and he hangs it over Damian's head for years.

As a challenge, he brought it up in front of Marinette. Any other time Damian would have left but since Mari was here, he couldn't. Damian stayed but Mari was like

“Why???" Tugging, cause they were holding hands. "Mari, lovebug, Malak, Habi Alghali. Let's go." Mari is a dissatisfied bean. Reluctantly follows Dami away.

The Outlaws consisted of Kori, Roy, and Jason!

When they hang out they always have ‘baked’ goods. They were eating edibles in the city but they somehow made their way to the manor for munchies. Alfred asked if they had any left.

Assuming to part with them, they lied and said no. (they always do)

Alfred still searched the trio moved the treat around. Some sour straps, molly ranchers, and a joint.

Alfred took some straps and popped them in.

"Wait, Alfred, that's-" "I know." They will never forget. Bruce semi-believes them.

High!Mari

Mari never took a stance on cannabis. "Too young." was the excuse often used when talking about it. She was 16.

She knew what they did. It wasn't until, Gotham, that she got real experience with edibles.

Roy accidentally gave her 300mg of cannabis.

"I got brownies!" Roy came in the room, granted it was one of Jason's many hideouts and they had agreed to hang out before Mari was dragged away.

"Jason, Let's get blazed!" Roy kicked the door in and Mari took a stance, Jason got out his babies and pointed them at the door. "Uhh." Roy slowly backed out, Jason put away his guns and Mari bounced in excitement.

"Brownies!" Plucking one from the bag, Mari smelled it first. "Mari, no." Mari turned, then plopped it in her mouth, stuffed her hand in the bag and took a bunch more.

Eating 3 more and stuffing some for Tikki. Jason sighed deeply. "Dammit." It sweet chaos for Mari after that.

First, an anxiety attack then bliss. She was never afraid of heights from being Ladybug, and that just added more fun for Mari.

Damian doesn't find out until he calls Mari.

Because Mari was supposed to come back and hang out, they promised. No, Damian was not upset by the fact that Jason is not better company than him.

Not at all. Damian is superior in every way! His ringing phone brought him back to reality.

"Mari, get away from there!" That's Jason. Marinette was giggling and Damian could here the wind.

"No way, Jose," Roy shouted in the background. "Who's jOsE?!?!" Marinette laughed loudly and Damian was starting to question his existence.

"Mari, Baby girl, Demon tamer. Get off the ledge." There was an eerie silence. "Oh, that reminds me. Hi, Damian."

That's it. "Ya Qamar Barid, I'm coming to get you." Marinette started to sob at that. "I MISSED OUR MEET UP, DIDN'T I???" Damian was already driving off, he traced the call.

"No, not at all Habibti. I was just thinking about where we should eat out." Marinette stopped crying.

"Really?" Damian confirms. "Mhm." "Je vais à la pizzeria que je veux, amant.* ” The call ends and Damian is NOT panicking.

(I go to the pizzeria i want, lover.)*

Marinette hanged up and jumped down to the apartment below. "MARI!!" Jason was going to lose so many years of this. This small bean should be very afraid.

Jason jumped after her with Roy following on the other side. "Oh, shit. Mari!" Roy regrets everything leading up to this point. At first, it was funny, seeing anyone try for the first time is.

Jason caught up to Mari, who has made it down 4 apartments. They were on the 5th floor.

Almost went splat on the pavement a couple of times.

Damian pulls up in one of the many cars, he's hot-wired before. Mari doesn't notice she's trying to climb down from the first floor to the ground. She jumps to a flag and misses.

Damian catches her before she hits the ground. "Damnit Habibti."

Marinette giggles. "I would have been fine, you know that." Damian carried her back to the car, Mari's complaining the entire time.

Once she's seated in the cold car, she promptly falls asleep.

Lila causes problems for Mari, on purpose but for the wrong reasons.

To spend time with her. Lila is never going to admit that she likes or even remotely revolves her world around Mari. Max points it out to Mari and has tried to get Lila to confess.

Likes to make Marinette mad. When her cheeks go red Lila accidentally lets out a, “She’s cute.” Mari turned to her. “What?” Lila panics and shouts. “I said you’re shit!” Mari is a very confused bean.

The only reason why this is brought up is that they make Lila have Sociopathic tendencies. Like Oni-chan didn’t make sense. Why let go of Adrien? Willing? Better question, why only focus on Mari? Unless you know. . . . . . Just saying.

A lot of mini ships. Like Alix x Chloe.

Alix and Chloe are secretly dating. Sabrina covers for both of them when it’s date night. Alix’s parents know that she’s gay but not Chloe’s. She doesn’t know why she’s scared.

But she doesn’t like that way her dad dismisses gay pride parades. Marinette helps her come to terms and even helps go through her emotions and to come out.

Still doesn’t come out until very much later. Uses Adrien as an excuse. Adrien knows what she means.

Chloe's mother is alright, you know ,gay pride. She joins the parades and makes small nods in her designs.

Eventually Max x Kim!

Alix and Kim are best friends and they help each other out because they always get the wrong advice.

Max and Kim ‘got together’ because Kim didn’t want to date Odine. Max doesn’t think they are dating.

So Kim makes an effort for their relationship and friendship. Alix dared Kim to date Chloe on valentine’s day, Max was there. He didn’t even hear Chloe’s answer but that didn’t matter because, at that moment.

Max heard and Kim understood why he felt like ‘that’ around Max. Max said congratulations and that just broke Kim's heart. Max is not very good at emotions.

"Mom already has enough on her plate." "I don’t need to trouble her." Max to Kim at some point.

Very later. Marc x Nathanial! Fw/B at 17

Nath only shines when art is involved. Has done sculpting and embroidery lessons from Mari, because he doesn’t want to be limited to one form of expression. Digital music is not his thing. Instruments on the other hand. Band nerd.

Sneaks into Higher writing courses. The teachers let him. He’s so talented in creating a universe from nothing. Marc had let the director of the ‘LB and CN Movie.’

Look at some of his stuff but once some criticism on Twitter started to get deleted for some reason, Marc asked around. Bad plot and all, he dismisses the story “Astruc” approved and did another one. Just because he made one good thing doesn’t mean he made the rest just as great.

Yes I am dissing Thomas

I am changing this.

No relationship. Luka helps Kagami realize that not everything in sexuality is as black as white because im a sucker for Les Kagami and Bi Luka. They can find happiness with people.

Emotions? What’s that. Barely there. No chill. Whatsoever. Sarcasm? Come again. She can make sarcastic jokes but won’t know it if it hits her in the face.

Knows exactly what you're talking about but at the same time doesn’t. Can’t relate. It’s very frustrating because she won’t disobey without feeling guilty. Mari, Adrien, and Luka help tear down her walls and ‘need to approve’ attitude. A lot of walls around her heart.

Adrien doesn't like or feel any attraction besides strong feelings.

Demi? Or Ace. Maybe Ace.

He is very disappointed when he doesn't feel explosions or fireworks when he kisses Lila (It was for a shoot, maybe audition.)

Parents fighting? Middle of most argument. Afraid of failing his father because his mother was like that?

The acting was put on hold but she would sneak out for auditions. Natalie helped her sneak out. He can’t trust Gabrial but trust his mother's judgment and maybe Natalie.

He doesn’t know what to do because Mari is, best friend and Lila don’t like Best Friend. But Mari said it was okay when it wasn’t! Proud owner of at least one brain cell.

Eventually Rose x Juleka!

Very concerned with Juleka’s being. She wants Juleka as more than a friend but if Juleka isn’t comfortable with it.

Then she can wait until she’s ready. Her father supports but her mother doesn’t. She makes fun of her depression.

World of patience. Rose and she aren’t dating but they are saving for each other. Juleka was delirious when this happened. She’ll never admit her feelings. Worried about how people would act.

And of course Alya x Nino once Alya gets her head on straight.

These are mini-stories. I'm going to reference these and mention them when I can in the story.

Bruce has movie nights.

No one knows where it is or what movie he watches. Alfred has an idea, and the boys keep trying to find where he goes. It's been so long since he's had something nice in his life.

He... adores his... children. To some extent. Okay, a lot.

But that didn't mean he could show how much he... loved them.

Regardless, they bring trouble where ever they go. Finally getting the conviction to watch a movie, he kept the tradition every chance he got.

Marinette accidentally found him at one of the run-down movie theaters around Gotham. A new movie she was excited for was already released in America but after Sams Club™

She never allowed them anywhere near her in a public place. It was chaos last time. She memorized the way to this theatre and avoided all the cameras. She checked, multiple times. On patrol.

Both, Mari and Damian, are 16.

Bruce is 38, Jason is 24, Dick is 26, Tim is finally 21. Dami is a winter baby. December. Mari is a Fall baby. October 8th.

When Adrien and Mari hang out together, Mari loses one brain cell While Adrien gains one.

They can never get anything accomplished if it doesn't involve the miraculous in some way. Mari was talking about a recent design, Adrien was in the middle of drink soup on this cold day.

Marinette stopped talking as Adrien struggled to get a single noddle in his mouth. Mari opened her mouth to try and say something, but Adrien managed to get the noodle in and grinned. As if, he just got the best Christmas gift, ever.

Mari lost if after that. "A-Adrien!" Clutching her stomach, Mari continued to laugh, Adrien joined in laughing at the slurping noise he made Nino walked in a moment ago to them laughing. It was lunchtime and they went ahead of the Alya and Nino.

Fu is a touchy subject with Marinette.

After the left with his past lover, he shortly passed away. Marianna wrote a letter back to Marinette and that just broke the Dam she built around her emotions.

Chat Noir revealed to be Adrien to destroy the Akuma after her.

Mari, as the newly appointed Guardian, didn't take away his miraculous. No one else was able and she didn't want anyone else to break down from the weight of responsibility.

Chat Noir took his duty with more dignity and less comical after the reveal.

I just saw the Chat Blanc trailer and.. I had this idea before but omg this is weird.

Let's.

Not.

Get.

This.

Bread.

Like most of this is going to be in Book 2. Book 1 is set in Paris, following Marinette. Book two is in Gotham, following Damian

#Maribat #marinette x damian #daminette #damian x marinette #Maridami #mari #marinette dupain cheng #headcanons #Cool

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kinnsporsche · 5 years

Text

we can raise a little family (maybe we'll be alright)

Whilst waiting for Michael at his trailer, Alex witnesses a crash and gets much more than he bargains for.

Alternatively: a post 1x13 fix-it-au.

word count: 2k

read on ao3

If there was one thing Alex hated most in the world, it was waiting. Waiting meant silence and silence meant more time for him to get lost in his head; and that was not a place he wanted to let himself get lost in.

But Michael had promised that they would talk today, and so he was content to wait for him. He’d spent years of his life turning away and running but now… now he was done. Now he would plant his feet firmly in the ground and say no more, no more running, this is who I am, and this is who I want.

At least, he would if the person he wanted showed up.

He’d waited an hour before he gave in to the restlessness. His good leg ached from disuse and he could feel the phantom aches twinging where his other leg used to be. He’d paced around the junkyard for a while, fingertips skimming across beat-up old cars and whatever else he could get a hold of to occupy his mind for a while.

He waited another hour before texting Isobel. She’d insisted he take her number when he first came back into town; she’d told him it was in case she needed help planning the parade she knew he didn’t want. Alex wonders if that’s true now.

The reply didn’t come until the third hour, and by then the weather had shifted to a light drizzle. He’d taken shelter inside Michael’s airstream, alternating between sitting on the edge of the bed and taking in the numerical sequences and equations that were littered across the walls. Right, Michael was still trying to leave the planet. He’d have to talk to him about that.

Noah’s gone, everything’s fine. We’ll be fine.

Alex had wanted to press. He’d wanted to push the subject until Isobel told him where Michael was and why he wasn’t answering his phone and why he was anywhere but here when here is exactly where he’d promised he would be.

Then he remembered everything she’d been through in the last few days and decided against it. He’d dropped the conversation with a quick thanks, take care.

His phone ended up half way across the trailer.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed after that. When he opened his eyes next, there was silence. The rain wasn’t pounding against the outside of the trailer and the pieces of scrap metal that Sanders had hung around the place weren’t banging against each other anymore.

Alex hissed when he tried to move, a twinge of pain shooting up his leg. Sleeping with his prosthetic was never a good idea; he’d definitely be paying for that for the rest of the night. When he finally managed to find his phone – thankfully nestled against what Alex knew was the bloody shirt Michael had peeled off in a hurry the night before – the clock told him he’d been asleep for just over two hours. He let out a litany of curses before he pushed the airstream door open, calling out Michael’s name. His truck wasn’t back though, and there were no fresh tire tracks in the gravel.

He checked his phone. Nothing.

He checked around for a note, hoping maybe he’d just missed him. Nothing.

He checked around for any sign that Michael Guerin hadn’t stood him up. Nothing.

God, he hoped he was wrong. Maybe Michael just needed space. Space from the world after everything that had happened to him the past few days, space from his home and his friends, space from him.

Still, those thoughts did nothing to stop his heart from shattering in his chest.

Alex turned and marched back to his car, shaking hands searching his jacket for the keys that he struggled to get into the lock. He cursed when he dropped them, hands braced against the roof of the car with his head nestled on them. He squeezed his eyes shut tight like he used to do when he was a child and it felt like the world wanted to go to war with him.

He counted to five.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

And picked up his keys.

Something bright caught his attention in the reflection of his car window and for a second; for a bright, beautiful second; he let himself have hope. He let himself think it was Michael’s truck pulling up. That he’d just let the voice in his head run riot again and that Michael was actually here like he said he would be. If he could bottle a moment and live in it forever, he’d choose that one.

Logically, though, he knew the reflection was too high up on his window and the world wasn’t kind enough to let it be headlights.

Alex turned, an explanation for why he’d been hanging out here for the past half a dozen hours on the tip of his tongue but saw nobody. Instinctively, he glanced up.

And that was when he saw it.

The lights were faint; if he didn’t know any better he would assume that it was just someone flying a drone or setting off a dud firework. But this was Roswell, and he knew better. In the distance the light grew brighter and expanded somewhat before disappearing just beyond the horizon.

This time when Alex fumbled with his keys, his hands weren’t shaking.

It took Alex longer than he would care to admit to find the crash site – in his defence, he was a codebreaker, not a navigator. He could follow instructions easily enough but eyeballing a crash site in the middle of the desert wasn’t exactly an easy task.

The crash site was small, the debris from whatever it was that crashed hadn’t spread far and as far as he could see, it hadn’t shattered into very many pieces. There was maybe half a dozen glowing iridescent pieces scattered a few feet away from him surrounding something small and circular.

He briefly remembered Michael telling him about their pods, but this one seemed different. For starters, it was tiny; it was small enough that he could probably carry it around without any difficulty. And second, it was smoking. That didn’t exactly seem like something it should be doing.

A high-pitched sound from a few paces away caught his attention and he whipped his head in that direction, heartbeat picking up in his chest when he caught movement underneath some sort of tarp. Alex crossed over to it and gripped one of the corners. He took a breath, counted to five again, and whipped it off.

Shock consumed him, and for a good few seconds he stood motionless as he took in the scene before him.

On the floor in front of him under the New Mexico sky, was a baby. A happy, gurgling baby whose hands were curled into fists and outstretched towards him. A happy, gurgling, alien baby that had just crashed from the sky. A happy, gurgling, alien baby that had only been covered by the tarp in the middle of the desert.

“Oh my god.” Alex shrugged his leather jacket off once he’d regained control of his motor functions and gently scooped the babbling baby up in his arms. He draped the jacket around her, hand rubbing small circles over her back when she nestled against his shoulder and started cooing quietly. He could already feel a small patch of drool seeping through his shirt and onto his shoulder.

“What happened here, hm?” Alex asked, more to himself than to the bumbling baby in his arms. As far as he knew, there hadn’t been another crash since 1947. So why now? And why the hell send down a baby? Michael and the others were kids when they came out of their pods, so why was this different?

With a sigh, Alex walked over to his car and swung open the passenger door. He made sure the baby was warm in his jacket and moved to set her down gently on the seat. He almost dropped her when she let out the most blood curdling cry he’d ever heard – a cry that stopped as soon as she was leaning back against his shoulder.

“Okay, okay! Note to self, don’t put the baby down.”

Alex glanced around at the debris scattered around and groaned; this was going to be much harder with only one hand free. He stored it all away in the trunk of his car, doing his best to hide the broken iridescent alien pod that he was now hiding in his car. When he was sure he had it all, he closed the trunk with a gentle thud, so he didn’t irritate the baby, and walked around the side of his car.

A twinge of pain shot up his leg when he sat down behind the wheel, and the hand that wasn’t holding onto the baby shot down to grip just above the point where his prosthetic met his leg. He manoeuvred her so that she was sitting on his lap instead of against his shoulder and tried desperately to work out the cramp that was sending spasms of phantom pain down his leg.

The baby let out an irritated gurgle, but Alex had his eyes squeezed shut tight as he tried to remember how to breathe – his physical therapist had taught him some breathing exercises that were supposed to get him through the pain, but the pain seemed to be the only thing he could focus on.

And then it stopped.

Alex’s eyes flew open. It took a few moments to adjust to something other than the darkness that had been blocking out his vision moments ago, but when he finally did he saw a small hand resting on his arm and a pair of wide brown eyes looking up at him. The baby cooed when their gazes met, moving her hand away to reveal a glowing, iridescent handprint on his skin.

“Holy shit-” Alex’s eyes were wide as he stared down at the mark. The baby giggled in response and slapped a small hand over her mouth.

“Language, right. Don’t swear around tiny alien babies. Got it.” He stared at the handprint on his arm for a few more seconds, watching the way the colours shifted as he turned his arm in the light.

“I think we need to have a conversation about leaving handprints on strangers, young lady,” Alex hummed, unable to stop himself from beaming at the gentle gurgle he got in response. The baby nuzzled back up against him and closed her eyes, mouth opening in a small yawn that he should not have found adorable in the slightest.

“No, listen you can’t sleep here I have to drive us home-.”

Alex cut himself off, eyebrows furrowing for a moment. Us? Home?

“I mean I have to drive us back to my place whilst I figure out what to do, and it’s definitely illegal for you to be sleeping in my lap.” The baby didn’t move though, just curled a small hand in his shirt and closed her eyes. He could have sworn the smile on her face held a hint of smugness.

The internal debate on whether or not to move her lasted all of three seconds before he was reminded of the wail she let out earlier and he decided to let her stay.

“If a cop tries to pull us over and I have to outrun them, you’re in big trouble missy.”

Alex started up the car and put it into drive, one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing small circles into the babies back over his leather jacket. If he drove ten miles under the speed limit the whole way home, nobody had to know besides him and the precious cargo that he was carrying in his lap.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex au #rnm fic #alex manes #roswell new mexico fic #roswell fic #**#rnm*#writing*#anyway this is an accidental baby acquisition fic because that trope owns my heart

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liw-the-melancholic-apple · 4 years

Text

How it may have gone - Humble Beginnings

A fic taking place in the marauders era. While the political climate seems to head to a conflict, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter are still just teenagers. Dealing with typical teenage problems.But this year their little group grows.

Who would have known that more prefects would be a good thing?

Masterlist

Seven: New Year's Eve III

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!”

Light and colours and explosions everywhere around me. I turned to hug Crick and wish him a happy new year to then enjoy what had to be the grandest firework extravaganza ever and then everything went wrong.

I turned, Crick’s arm still around me and realised that his face was very close to me. Unnaturally close. He looked into my eyes and kept coming closer, eyes flickering to my. Then he made his move. I dove to the left, away from the arm that was wrapped around my shoulder and threw my chin onto his left shoulder, hugging him. Whatever that was, it was not the kind of joke I liked.

“Happy New Year, Crick!”, I chirped with genuine happiness and excitement, ready to forget whatever weird thing he had just thought up.

When I let him go he had a strange look on his face that I’d never seen before.

“I tried to kiss you there, Jette”, he said after an awkward pause. I stared at him in disbelief. Why would he mention that? It would only make everything stranger than it already was.

“Yeah, I realised that.”

“Why’d you turn away then?” Was he kidding? Why did I dive away? Was that not obvious?

“Because… I’m more of a hugger and not one for platonic kisses?”, I answered hesitatingly. He frowned.

“Neither am I.”

“Huh?” Right above us a huge rocket exploded lighting up the night in gold and blue as it displayed the skyline of Godric’s Hollow nearly to scale. The crowd went wild.

“I said I’m not one for platonic kisses, either”, Crick explained ignoring the wonderful colours and images and coming closer to me once more. This time I didn’t see it coming at all. I was not prepared and I didn’t move. He kissed me. On the lips. One hand on my waist, one on my shoulder, slowly moving up to my neck. I smelled and tasted the mead and fire whiskey he had been drinking. What. The. Hell.

I pushed him away softly. “What the hell?”

“You start the new year with a kiss, it’s tradition”, Crick smirked. Purple and pink hearts rained down from the sky. Wonderful.

“I realise that!”, I huffed, still flustered, out of breath and confused.

“Good. Good. Because I think that that was fairly great. We’ll get even better in time, though.” We were clearly on different pages.

“What? Crick you’ve lost me.” His heavenly smirk turned into confusion, wrinkles of doubt appeared around his mouth and eyes.

“What I mean is, that… that I’d like to kiss you a whole lot more, Libby. Like all the time. And as the only one.”

This was not happening. Nica would have a field day with this.

“Crick…”

“I’m not done. And I might never get the courage again to say so please… You are the most wonderful and pretty girl I’ve ever met, Libby, and you’re clever and funny and… I’ve fallen for you. Pretty hard to be honest.” A gigantic black sparkling raven soared over the pub spewing blood red flames in every direction.

“Crick..”, I started again but he leaned in for the third time as to seal his horrifying confession. I raised my hands to my shoulder, his chest bumped into them.

“What are you doing?”, Crick smiled, trying to push my hands away.

“Crick, I’m sorry but… I… I haven’t. I don’t. Look. I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a grade a arsehole, but… I’m not – in love with you. I don’t want to kiss you.” My voice had gotten rather weak at the end of that pathetic speech and I knew that my eyes had grown wide as I looked up to him. I prayed he’d laugh it off and tell me it was just a joke. Whether it really was or not. I just wanted him to pretend none of this had ever happened. A golden castle in the sky behind him. The portal opened a blue and bronze eagle, a red and golden lion, a silver and green snake and a black and yellow badger ran out of them, shooting down to the ground and frolicked through the masses of onlookers.

“Playing hard to get, are we?” Once more Crick got too close to me and once more he crashed into my raised hands.

“I’m not playing!”, the strength had returned to my voice.

“You’re not?”

“I’m not. I’m sorry but I’m not.”

My look was fixed on his face as it morphed from shock into disbelief, from pain into sadness, until it finally landed in anger. The red of the lion reflecting on his skin. This was not good.

“Why would you lead me on then?”

“What?”

“I want to know why you lead me on if you don’t want me”, he shouted. Crick never shouted.

“I didn’t lead you on, Crick. I didn’t even know you liked me like that.”

“Bollocks!” We both jumped at the sound of a cannon ball being fired from a glistening cannon dip-painting the pub and its surroundings in a deep Hawaiian turquoise.

“You told me I should go for whomever I liked whether Jonas and Tristan were for it or not. You said you loved me!” He grabbed me by the shoulders firmly. Tightly. It hurt.

“I was talking about Elaine when I said that Crick”, my voice broke. His eyes looked crazy. What in the world was happening? Another cannon ball was fired. This time neither one of us jumped. I barely realised the beautiful metallic rosegold we were submerged in.

“And I don’t think I said that I loved you.”

“Don’t deny it, Libby! Don’t you dare deny it!” He grabbed me even harder and I flinched at his fingers digging into my shoulders.

An arm wrapped in a black felt coat appeared in front of my face, pushing Crick back a bit, loosening his grip on my arms.

“Mate”, a familiar hoarse voice said calmly.

“Of course you have to turn up. Get lost! This is a private matter!”

“Mate, you’re scaring her”, the hoarse voice answered calm as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. As the sky was lit up by platinum stars two new hand fell on my shoulders and pulled against another body. The hands were light and reassuring. The body tall and slender. I pushed against it just a bit.

“What do you know about how she feels?”, Crick barked.

“I don’t know her as well as you do but I got eyes, Cricket. You’re hurt. I get it. But it’s not her fault. Come on!”

The arm pushed him further away from me and moved to the right, followed by a person in a black felt coat, dark hair to his chin. Crick disappeared, all I saw was the felt back and the dark hair.

Black kept talking to Crick and moved further and further away from me. Potter took his place in front of me watching the two other boys. Someone took my hand.

“You okay, love?”, Pettigrew asked squeezing my hand for a second. A Chinese dragon paraded over the skies, shining in white and magenta.

“No idea”, I admitted. Potter turned around and studied my face.

“Right… listen: Remus and Peter will stay with you”, he looked up at Remus behind me. “Get her to sit down, maybe.” Focussing on me again he continued: “Sirius is trying to calm down Cricket and I’m going to look for his brother. Just in case, okay? You stay with Peter and Remus and have a smoke.” I nodded, still not sure whether all of that just really happened or whether I was victim to a very vivid hallucination.

Remus navigated me to the benches by my shoulders. Pettigrew, still holding my hand, very effectively shooed away the people who sat on the most isolated one and gestured for me to sit. I did.

“How about now? You okay?” His dull blue eyes had something extremely comforting that I hadn’t noticed before. I shook my head, then nodded, then tilted it.

“Did that really happen?”, I asked instead of answering.

Remus sat down next to me, lit a cigarette and put it in my hand. “There. Calm down.” I greedily inhaled the smoke.

“Did that really happen?”, I repeated, eager to be told ‘no’.

“Yes, it did.”

“Merlin!” I let my head fall into my hands.

“I only saw the last part of that whole…thing… but I assume he told you he had a thing for you?”

“Yep”, I didn’t look up.

Pettigrew took my hand again and kneeled down in the snow in front of me. “Did he hurt you? I saw he tried to kiss you…”

“No ,no, not really.” Now I did look up. Both Pettigrew and Remus raised their eyebrows at me.

“I mean, he had quite the grip on my arms, nothing that won’t be gone in day or two. Honestly, I think he’s more hurt than I am.” We fell in silence.

“Did you know, Remus?”, I asked right when I saw Potter hurry toward us with a blond boy following him.

“That he liked you?”

“Huh”

“I thought so, yes.”

“Am I that blind? I wasn’t in the least prepared for that.”

Potter and Jonas were covered in the reflection of bronze flickers when they arrived at our little table, both out of breath. Jonas pulled me up from the bench and into his arms.

“Did he really tell you?” I nodded my head that was still leaning against his chest.

“Idiot! I told him this wouldn’t go well. Look at me!” I did. He critically studied me for a moment.

“I’ll go try to find him and talk some sense into him. You’re okay with these lads, right?”

“Yeah.”

When Jonas had been swallowed up by the crowd that was still gazing at the mesmerising fireworks that I had surely thoroughly enjoyed under different circumstances, I fell back onto the bench between Remus and Pettigrew. Potter leaned against the table.

“So everybody knew, but me?” I looked at Remus.

“None of us really knew, if that helps. Sirius and I had our suspicions.”

“He wasn’t very subtle, come to think of it”, Potter commented. “With the kissing your hair and what not.”

“He’s done that ever since my first year. I was the most pathetic homesick eleven year-old you’ve ever encountered. His mum used to kiss the top of his head when he was sad – I reckon she still does – and so that’s what he did to make me feel better. Nothing I would associate with romantic feelings.” I sighed. Romantic feelings. Crick had romantic feelings for me. Ugh! Things were bound to get complicated.

“Well, there is the whole thing about him hating us”, Pettigrew suggested with a shy smile.

“Yeah, I’m pretty certain he got shit-faced last week because we had decided to crash your little date”, Remus added.

“It wasn’t a date!”, I snapped.

“Right, we know. But he probably didn’t appreciate four chaps demanding your attention.”

“He must have been devastated when his parents grounded him. If this was his plan all along…”, Remus said, making me sigh again.

“What is wrong with him? He’s supposed to be my best friend! Isn’t there some rule in place about not falling for each other?” I looked at them one by one.

“We’re all into girls, I’m afraid. If there is such a rule it’s never come up with us”, Pettigrew joked and actually made me smile.

“Fair enough.”

The entire solar system started spinning above us, getting faster and faster until every planet was swallowed up by the sun that started pulsating switched colours from a yellow-y orange to a silvery white and exploded into all phases of the moon. Remus next to me shivered.

“This is beautiful”, I whispered through chattering teeth.

“Some gentlemen you lot are”, Black half laughed half barked as he peeled himself out his felt coat and put it around my shoulders. My teeth stopped chattering instantly. The jacket was thick and windproof and warm from Black’s body heat.

“Thanks”, I said smiling up to him. “Thanks for everything. All of you”, I added when I realised that I hadn’t thanked them yet for stopping Crick from yelling at me.

“Jonas is taking Cricket home”, Black explained, more for his friends than me.

“He’s still a mess but at least he’s stopped shouting and realises that staying here is a rubbish idea.” He leaned against the pub’s wall and smirked at me. “What on earth have you done to him? He’s positively mental!”

I groaned. If only I knew what I had done to him. Was it my fault? Had I lead him on? Had I made him believe that this kiss was going to start a relationship? How did everybody know what was up, but me?

“I was joking, Goods. It’s not your fault, you’re great. Don’t take it too hard.” He came back toward the bench to pad me on the back, when another group of pink hearts rained down on us and illuminated his face. I didn’t believe it and jumped up.

“Did he punch you?!!!”

Black sported a busted lip that he tried to hide from me by moving back into the shadows of the wall but it was too late.

“He did, didn’t he?” Black didn’t answer.

“Shit, Black, I’m so sorry!” Without even realising it I leaped over to him wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. He shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have gotten involved in that. Black, I’m so sorry! I’m…”

“Will you shut up, Goods? It’s fine. Not the first time I get hit by someone. I’ll live. And it adds to my bad boy allure, don’t you think?” He pushed me away and presented his face to me wiggling his eyebrows.

“Maybe. But still. It shouldn’t have happened and it’s all my fault…”

“Bullocks. It’s his fault”, Remus said. He, too, had gotten up from the bench, offered me and Black a cigarette each and suggested to head back inside soon.

“Otherwise one of you will die”, I pointed to Black, then to me. Black let me go to take the fag and I felt a little better when he smirked at a girl that walked past and seemed fascinated by the blood on his shirt. Great, I ruined his shirt, too.

“I told Jonas we’d make sure that you get home, by the way”, Black said when we walked back into the party. I wasn’t sure whether I was still in the mood for it but I definitely didn’t want to walk home by myself or run into Crick.

“You can floo over from ours… Potter’s.”

“Thinking of everything. Thank you.”

I got a round of fire whiskey and Master’s Brew for my heroes and stood at the bar with them for a while.

“Pete, I think she’s not all that shaken up anymore. She wouldn’t wanna keep you from your sweetheart."

"Hang on!! Sweetheart? Do tell!” I smiled the first genuine smile in an hour as I turned my attention to Pettigrew.

He hesitated at first but then quickly told me that he had met a American girl at the beginning of the night who apparently thought he was “cute as a button” and had occupied him and his lips for most of the night. She’d actually been with the group when they spotted Crick and me and Pettigrew had left her with a fast explanation.

“I reckon she’s got another one by now. Or thinks I tried to get rid of her”, he said looking into his cocktail. “Besides, can’t rescue a damsel in distress and then abandon her, can I?”

“Yes, yes you can!”, I protested, taking his hand. I’d be damned if I ruined another friend’s night. By my count I had already messed New Year’s up for Crick, Jonas – therefore probably Valerie – and Black. I was not adding Pettigrew to that list.

“Lead the way, I’ll apologise for stealing you away and explain that you saved me. If she doesn’t want to talk to you the, we can both slap her.” Pettigrew giggled and pointed to the next bar over at a back with lengthy golden locks and an exquisite bum.

“Nice, Pettigrew”, I praised his conquest. He blushed.

“Her name’s Margery”, Pettigrew whispered just before we reached her.

“Hey Margery?”

“Yeah?” She looked at me without any friendly expression and got annoyed when she spotted Pettigrew beside me.

“Hi, I’m Jette. I think I may have stolen Peter here away from you. Sorry ‘bout that. But some bloke decided he could just kiss me whether I liked it or not and Peter rescued me from him. He and his friends just made sure that I wasn’t hurt or shaken up…

I thought I’d tell you that I didn’t mean to keep him for myself. I mean he is quite the catch, but I don’t stand a chance. He felt bad about it, though. So, thanks for letting him save and sorry for taking so long…”, I cut myself off not knowing what else there was to say but Margery only half listened to me staring at Peter with pure admiration.

“You saved her from some perv?”, she asked and I reckoned my job was done. I slipped away as she made him tell him everything in detail and I hoped for his sake that he’d exaggerate a bit.

Back with the other three I started to relax more and more, forced myself to forget about Crick for the time being and danced to the second coming of Baba Yaga, one more trying to outdo Remus in his goofy dance moves.

We stayed until four in the morning, which was about the time my feet were absolutely done with the high heeled boots I wore, Margery had been forced to go home by her British cousin and Remus had had exactly one beer too many to keep from giggling constantly. It was amazing. At long last I found my jacket and followed Potter and Black out the pub and down a road into Godric’s Hollow.

It was a brisk ten minute walk to the Potter house, that might have been called a mansion. We walked through the iron garden gate and towards a friendly looking white door. Potter pulled out the key and opened it letting us all go in before him. From the inside the house seemed even bigger. If it hadn’t been for all the cosy pillows and rugs, lived chaos on the chairs and coatracks and the many goofy photographs I would have thought that Mr and Mrs Potter weren’t all that different from the Mulcibers or Flints. But those little details showed that here lived a loving family, proud of their only son, happy to be together.

Potter lead me into the spacious white and scarlet living room in the centre of which stood a huge white fireplace with a beautiful antique mantle which was overflowing with pictures of Potter from his birth to now. The very last one in the row showed Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Remus all wearing Santa Clause hats waving at the camera drinking hot chocolate. I smiled. I liked this place.

“Damn!”, Potter whispered as he turned a white vase on its head. “Empty. Mum didn’t buy any yesterday. She’s getting older every minute, I swear. Suppose I could wake her to apparate you over.”

“Oh, god, no! Don’t wake her. I don’t want to bother any more people. Uhm… If you don’t mind I could just sleep on the couch. I might need to borrow an owl to let my parents know that I’m still alive and that they could fetch me tomorrow. And if that’s not okay, I’ll just walk myself home. My parents are too scared anyways. Nothing will happen. Yeah, I’m just gonna…” It turned around to leave when Potter held me back.

“Yeah, no. You’re not walking yourself home and I’m knackered. We told Cricket that we’d get you home and we will. Tomorrow. Mum and Dad won’t mind and there’s enough owls to let you folks know. And there’s another guestroom so you won’t even have to share a space with us gross baboons.” I hesitated, he smiled. “I insist, de Witt.”

“Okay, thanks. Getting to bed does sound significantly better than walking through the snow for fortyfive minutes.”

“Follow me, Miss. Oh, and would you mind taking off you shoes? Mum will go crazy otherwise.” I didn’t mind and followed the boys up the stairs to the first floor that was a giant hall with more white doors.

“That’s the bathroom” Potter pointed at the door at the right from the staircase. My room’s right next to it, Sirius’ opposite of mine.” He pointed at the respective doors. “Remus is in that one”. He pointed at the door to the left of the staircase, “and Peter’s next to me. So you, could move in next to Sirius. I’m sure it’s been made up last week together with the other rooms because mum didn’t know which rooms the boys would favour.” I nodded.

“This place is amazing”, I uttered as I followed Potter over the thick, cosy, grey rug to my door. He opened it and let met in. Then he looked at my jeans and t-shirt combo with furrowed brows.

“Remus”, he hissed. “You got a shirt for de Witt to sleep in? I doubt the jeans and that shred of a top are comfortable to wear to bed.”

Remus was going to protest in one way or another but Potter was quicker: “I’d give her one of mine but you’re taller and she’d be decent all night long.” He winked at me and Remus disappeared into his room without a word. He came back just moments later handing me a scarlet red shirt with a gold embroidered lion and two beater’s bats on it.

“Hope you don’t mind”, he grinned.

“Absolutely not. You guys are too good to be true. Honest. Thanks.” He gently punched my shoulder and wished me a good night. Potter got a beautiful little pygmy owl and some parchment.

“Just let her out via your window.” He again told me where everything was and pulled a new toothbrush out of the nightstand in ‘my’ room, then he wished me a good night as well. Pettigrew had already disappeared and Black came out the bathroom as I went in.

“In the sharp light of the hallway his lip looked a bit worse than I originally thought. I unintentionally bit my own.

“Told you I’ll live, Goods.”

“Right.”

“I’m sure he’ll owl tomorrow saying he’s sorry. Just got carried away when I told him you didn’t want him. Can’t be nice to hear. But he’ll calm down and get over you and be your best friend again. Don’t worry.”

“People don’t give you enough credit, Black.”

“I know, tragically underrated.” He smirked. “Night, Goods.”

“Good night, Black. And Happy New Year.”

“Right. Happy New Year.”

#marauders fanfiction #marauders era #james & peter & remus & sirius #harry potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #original character

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canyousavethefuture · 4 years

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I’m not celebrating today

I didn’t always hate july the 4th. It used to be a fun day of celebration for our family. I was in the parade in my town at least twice. But right now I want nothing to do with it. From learning why it really isn’t accurate to true freedom and independence when this land belonged to native tribes and slavery was still in use when independence from Britain was declared. I don’t feel luke it means anything but disrespect and disregard right now. I wasn’t taught this in school, both college and high school. The education system has a huge problem with being very Eurocentric. I wasn’t ever taught about how mt Rushmore is actually the The Black Hills, a sacred land to the Lakota Sioux tribe. We were never taught that the president’s faces carved into the mountain was an act of desecration. It was stolen land, it was colonialism and white supremacy. I’m glad I know the real history now, and i believe it’s more important to focus on restorative justice and giving reparations, to the people wronged then it is to shoot explosions into the sky and call it patriotic. Hm maybe it is patriotic because the US has always been “good” at waging war for profit. I might come off as extremely bitter and angry, but I definitely am and I believe the reasons for that anger make perfect sense.

There are ICE detention camps that hold people for the supposed crime of entering the nation illegally. It’s disgusting that ICE even exists. No human being is illegal. The existence of these detention centers, of ICE itself, or the police and prison labor and violence against indigenous people. Any celebration of freedom today rings completely hollow.

Aside from the violence done to native american’s and immigrants, slavery hasn’t been truly abolished. Due to the bit in the 13th amendment that states “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States”. This leaves prison labor as a way to maintain slavery and it’s further used to treat anyone convicted or any crime, as a second class citizens. Making it difficult or even impossible to get a good job or find a place to live. This is enforced by the police and their organization is built on white supremacy and slave hunter patrols. Learning all this was clearly terrifying but my guilt helps no one. I know all of it now and I can help to educate others, to uplift black and native voices, and focus on restorative justice. My uncle wished me a happy holiday today and I whispered back that I didn’t think there was anything to celebrate. Neither of us are confrontational people so he dropped it and I felt glad that I hadn’t started an argument but also wished I had just told him in frank terms, that I wasn’t celebrating. I think I just wanted him to leave.

Earlier this week my mom surprised me when she expressed that she didn’t want to celebrate either. I hadn’t expected that from her but i’m glad she has been working on growing and unlearning subtly racist or colonialist behaviors. I still get into arguments with her though, our most recent one on fireworks. I used to think they were pretty cool, loud and pretty. And I definitely associated them with celebration. But right now, after hearing them almost constantly though the summer. More than the usual summer. I’m exhausted. I looked into how fireworks can accustom people to the sound of explosions, or heighten their stress level. While i’m not personally furious with the people setting them off, I do want it to stop. (add on to this: I couldn’t post this til the morning after and the fireworks in my neighborhood last night were awful and near constant. It sounded like how i imagine a war zone. And i’m still on edge from it.)

I was writing this bit and then wondering what the heck this has to do with sustainability. But fireworks are giant explosions, they can act as air pollution and can be torture to war veterans, animals or just people with anxiety. And a sustainable society would need to fully abolish colonialism,slavery, prison labor and immigrant detention centers to be actively sustainable.

Add on: I don’t think i’ve done much in sustainability this week besides take care of my plants for service learning. I donated another harvest of lettuce, and two cucumbers and a zucchini. But i did sort through some clothes and gave away a bunch I didn’t need or want. I do want to try and add some decoration to plainer shirts with embroidery after learning if i go super slow and at my own pace, it shouldn’t hurt my wrist. I have to look around for the embroidery loop and the thread i know I have somewhere. But the idea of making little flowers or cats on my favorite shirts or pants sounds fun and inspiring. I’ve still been struggling with motivation but this might be a step towards doing something sustainable (instead of buying more clothes) besides my service learning project.

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ohalemalia · 5 years

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Taking Your Kid(s) to Disneyland

A/N: hi, i love children and i love disneyland, no one asked for this, but this is what you’re gettin’ lmao. not edited bc hello its me also this is looooooong. i got carried away. i said i LOVE children and i LOVE disneyland come on what did ya expect

ISAAC LAHEY

when you visit Disneyland for the first time you and Isaac definitely go out of your way to make your daughter the prettiest princess in the whole park

like, she gets a dress, a cute ballerina bun, little heels, glitter in her hair, a tiara, a scepter the whole nine yards

she’s super jazzed to meet all of her favorite princesses she doesn’t even care about the rides the first day

so you buy her an autograph book and a fancy pen

She holds the autograph to her chest, peering around the park anxiously for any princesses

“Daddy,” she pouts, “I don’t see any princesses.”

“They’ll be out soon sweetheart,” Isaac reassures her. “They’re all just having their morning tea,” You assure her with a smile.

After walking around for what seems like forever to your daughter, suddenly her face lights up and shrieks, “TIANA!” And bolts over to where the princess is getting off of the Mark Twain riverboat.

“Y/D/N!” Isaac yells after her before bolting after her, “Y/D/N! Wait!”

Y/D/N is first in line to meet the princess, a bright grin on her face

Isaac catches up to her, “You can’t just run off like that, Y/D/N.”

“But it’s Tiana, daddy,” Y/D/N says earnestly, not knowing that she’s done something wrong.

“I know,” Isaac frowns, “But there’s too many people here, I don’t want to lose you okay? Please, just stay with me and Mommy and I promise we’ll meet all of the princesses, okay?”

So you spend all day tracking down all of the princesses, but you don’t mind because you have a three day pass for the three of you

As you sit down for lunch, Y/D/N goes through her autograph book and points out all of the princesses’ signatures to Isaac who smiles softly at your daughter, his chin resting in his hand

“And that one is from Cinderella--”

“That’s the one with the big castle, right?”

“Noooooo, daddy,” Y/D/N cries out, exasperated, “That’s Sleeping Beauty’s castle! Cinderella has the glass slippers and the blue dress!”

“Oh,” Isaac says, “Sorry.”

You shake your head, “Come on, Isaac, you should know that.”

“Sorry!” Isaac apologizes again, “There’s so many of them. I’m trying to keep track.”

Y/D/N tugs on Isaac’s sleeve, trying to get her attention back on her autograph book, “Daddy, look.”

“I’m sorry, princess, I’m looking.”

In your daughter’s rush to meet the princesses, she drops part of her costume at multiple times, so Isaac is always behind her picking them up

So at one point he just has an arm full of accessories

As you head back to the trams to get to the parking garage, Isaac carries your worn out daughter in his arms. Her face is smushed against his chest, her tiara crooked and a light up Cinderella’s carriage bubble wand in her hand. The fireworks from the park echo in the distance as she mumbles, “This really is the happiest place on Earth.”

DEREK HALE

Your two kids take turns on Derek’s shoulders so they can see better

“I want that! That one too! Mom, Dad, can we get one of those?!”

Derek has a stern face as she checks the price of the Mickey Mouse plushy? “$40? For this?”

Your children pout up at him, trying to appeal to his soft side, “Pleaaaaaaase?”

Derek practically throws the two plushies on the counter, the woman rings them up. “Okay that’ll be $82.50. Are you an annual passholder?”

“No,” Derek replies gruffly. The woman nods and as Derek pulls his card out the woman starts bagging the plushies.

“Can we have them now? Please, dad?” Your daughter begs. Derek nods and takes the plushies and hands them to the kids. They exclaim in joy and run off.

You press a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll buy lunch.”

Your kids want to ride all the fast big rides and Derek is totally down

You have plenty of pictures of Derek with a bright grin on his face on various rides with the kids

While waiting in the line, the kids like to hang off of Derek’s arms, and to humor them, he lifts them up

“Again, dad! Do it again!”

He does it again and again like they requested

While your kids are trying to watch a parade, some grown adult comes and stands right in front of them, blocking their view

The kids come crying to Derek about this and he starts to walk over but you stop him

“Please, don’t go scaring anyone, it’s Disneyland.”

“I’m not going to scare him,” Derek tells you, “I’m just going to go talk to him.”

The guy seems to be tough, when Derek comes and taps him on the shoulder, she squares his shoulders. Derek leans forward, his hands behind his back and mutters something in the guy’s ear. Whatever he says makes the guy go white in the face and leave immediately.

Derek turns back to grin at you, the kids yelling cheers because Dad came to the rescue

You decide you’d rather not know what he said

Your kids spend the end of the day on each of your shoulders as you all watch the fireworks together

STILES STILINSKI

Stiles has spent weeks meticulously planning this trip. What you’re gonna do, what you’re gonna see, what you’re gonna eat, when you’re gonna eat, see and do it.

The kids (and Stiles) want to go to Tomorrowland first, naturally, since that’s where all the Star Wars stuff is

You ride Star Tours multiple times to get all five versions

The kids (and Stiles) also make their own custom light sabers

Stiles is honestly having the time of his life, but he won’t admit it because he’s an adult

You lean over as he’s debating on which handle to use for his light saber with a smile and whisper, “It’s really cute how into this you are.”

“What? No, no, this is for Y/C/N.”

“I already have mine, Dad,” Your daughter holds up the light saber she’s working on

“Did I say, Y/D/N? I meant Y/S/N.”

“I have one too,” Your son holds his up.

You smile at him, “Like I said, I think it’s cute.”

You run into some Storm Troopers, and Stiles is in awe.

“These are not the droids you are looking for,” Stiles quotes the movie as he waves his hand in the Storm Troopers face. He turns around to shoot you a goofy grin, but the Storm Troopers are not impressed.

“Clear the area, civilian. Move along. Nothing to see here.”

As the Storm Troopers walk away, Stiles is still pleased.

“So freaking cool.”

Best believe the kids (and Stiles) get some cool pics with different Star Wars characters

“Can I get this? Please?” Your daughter holds up a Disneyland sweater

Stiles takes a look at the price and sucks in a breath. He pulls out his wallet and counts his bills, “Alright, but it’s coming out of your college fund.”

“Daaaaad,” Your daughter whines.

“That’s fine! Who needs college anyway?” Your son snatches something off the shelf and books it to the counter.

“No, no--” Stiles goes after him, “No, college is very important!”

“Okay,” Stiles is going over his schedule for the eighth time, “It’s a forty minute wait for Indiana Jones, so if we go to Pirates which is 25 minutes we can--”

“Look!” Your daughter points to somewhere in the distance, “A parade! Look! Look! Look!”

She grabs your hand and drags you over to see the festivities closer, your son follows in suit. Stiles looks on in exasperation.

“‘What?” He holds his arms out to his sides, “Guys, no, no parade, the parade isn’t on the schedule!”

This happens a lot. The kids are wild ones, just like their dad and they have no regards for schedules

“Babe,” You shake your head, “Just let it go.”

“But,” Stiles pouts, “But my schedule, it was a good one.”

You pat his shoulder, “I know.”

“I worked hard on it.”

“I know.”

But you all manage to have a great day, and Stiles actually has more fun when he’s not stressing about The Schedule

Stiles and your son duel with their new light sabers while they wait for you and Y/D/N to get out of the bathroom

You also head to the California Adventure Park to meet all the Marvel characters.

Stiles stressing about how expensive everything is

So you buy things for the kids behind his back, literally

“Don’t tell dad,” You smile.

“I heard that!”

SCOTT MCCALL

Scott has packed a crap ton of food because he knows how expensive Disneyland food is and theme park food is in general

You two recently had a baby, so you two take turns on who has to stay behind while the other takes your older child on the rides

You all have Mickey mouse ears

Even the baby

You also have matching shirts (it makes finding each other easier)

Your child trying to find Scott whenever you’re on a ride and he’s waiting

“There he is! Dad!” Your child waves from your teacup.

“Honey, he can’t hear you.”

But of course Scott can. He looks up from the baby in his arms, smiles and waves.

“Take a picture of us!” Your child yells.

Scott does, he takes many pictures.

There’s some rides that your child is terrified of going on, but they don’t want to admit it.

Scott senses this and kneels down in front of your kid as they look up at the Guardians of the Galaxy ride in horror

“Everything okay?” He asks. Your child gulps, but nods.

As a chorus of screams erupts from the ride, Scott can see your kid is absolutely not okay. “You know, there’s a show that happens right over there.” Scott points to a place outside the ride where people have started gathering to wait for the show, “It’s a lot of fun. There’s dancing and I know you like dancing. We can watch that and then you afterwards if you still want to go on the ride, we will and if not, that’s totally okay too. Okay?”

Y/C/N gives Scott a slight smile and nods, “Okay.”

Your kid has a blast at the show and even gets to dance with Starlord and Gamora in front of everyone

They have so much fun that they forget about the ride all together.

“The line is too long anyway,” They say, happy with the Groot plushy they’ve gotten instead.

Your kid likes to hold hands with either you or Scott or both of you at the same time as you walk through the park

Scott makes your kid feel fearless (Scott has that effect on a lot of people) so they start to open up and ride more of the scary rides

Your child comes running of the ride with a bright grin on their face, “I did it, Dad!”

Scott scoops them up, spins them around and gives them a great big hug, “You did! I’m so proud of you!”

Staying until the park closes and Scott carrying Y/C/N on his back as you exit the park

“Did you have fun today?” You ask. Y/C/N nods.

“What was your favorite part?” Scott asks.

“Meeting the superheroes,” Y/C/N mumbles, “Well not all of them, because they weren’t all here today.”

“We’ll have to come back then,” You share a look with Scott.

“We don’t have to, because my favorite superheroes are always with me,” Y/C/N mutters.

“Yeah?” Scott asks, “Who are they?”

“You and Mom,” Y/C/N answers, “Duh.”

You and Scott share a look and smile at each other. Scott pats your child’s leg.

“We love you too.”

108 notes · View notes

naruwitch · 4 years

Text

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 13: Return to the Balmera

After several more hours of traveling, the Balmera was at last in sight. Other than Shirley, the other Paladins took a moment to take in the view of the planet. A planet that they were told wasn't a planet at all, but a giant petrified animal, that made itself a home for other creatures as well.

"We'll be arriving at the Balmera soon," Allura announced, "Liberating these Balmerans from Zarkon's grasp will not be easy."

"So, what's the plan? We go in there and just—Pow, pow, pow!" Rivalz said as he imitated shooting noises with his hands in gun form, "—And free the prisoners?"

"What was that noise?" Kallen asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Laser guns!" Rivals smirked back.

"No, Rivalz, I think you mean—" Milly made sounds that sounded like a giant cannon, even making hand motions to demonstrate it locking into place, "—Pow!"

"No offense, Milly, but sounded like fireworks to me," Rivalz argued.

"Technically, they're more like—ba-choo, ba-choo, ba-choo!" Rai said, making his own handgun and 'shooting' with it.

"Okay, enough with the bad sound effects!" Lelouch chastised with a frown.

"Yeah… besides, it's more like— blam, blam, blam!" Suzaku said, crouching down as if he were holding a sniper rifle and targeting his foe.

"Suzaku…" Lelouch groaned as the other Paladins protested in agreement that that was not what a gun sounded like.

"Paladins, focus," Allura said with a sigh.

"Besides," C.C. spoke up, "you might want to rethink that strategy. It'd be foolish to start shooting at the Galra once we enter."

"C.C.'s right," Shirley agreed, as a picture of the Balmera's heat signature appeared before them, "this Balmera thing, it's, like, alive. And from what we've seen, it doesn't look very good."

"Yes," Coran agreed as the screen showed the brighter colors slowly giving way to darker, colder ones, "it's an atrocity what the Galra have been doing to this grand beast. Stealing its Crystals," another screen of the Balmera's current surface appeared next to it, "its very life force, without ever performing the energy rejuvenation ceremonies to heal it." Another image showed two figures, Alteans they assumed, with hands outstretched and surrounded by a circle, and arrows being directed towards a large Crystal in between them.

"After seeing Shay's people enslaved, it made me realize how bad Zarkon really is," Shirley said with a frown. "And we're the only ones who can stop him."

"C.C. and Shirley are right, going in guns blazing is the last thing we want to do," The Black Paladin said. "Not only will it alert the enemy of our arrival sooner, but it would simply hurt the Balmera as well. What we need to do is try and draw as many troops as we can up to the surface where we can fight them in the open air."

"Wait, I know!" Rivalz exclaimed, "If we attack all of this big mining stuff on the surface, the Galra troops will have to come out to defend it. Then we beat them up, head down to the tunnels, and Voltron saves the day!"

"Okay, but will we know how many are left in the tunnels?" Kallen asked.

"We can track the Galra and the Balmerans using Biothermal Life Indicator Point Technology," Allura said. She pulled up a hologram of a small device that looked like a miniature version of the Castleship.

"Oh, B.L.I.P. Tech!" Rai said, leaning in closer. At Allura's confused stare Rai awkwardly looked at the Princess and clarified, "...It's an acronym."

"One of you will need to fly around the Balmera and drop sensors into the shafts on each side," Allura continued as the device flew further in front of her. The screen then spread out to show a map of intricate tunnels and vein systems that it picked up, "Then we'll be able to see where the Galra and the Balmerans are. There are already sensors built into your suits."

"I can do it," Rai volunteered immediately, "I just modified Zerith with the invisible maze's cloaking ability. I should be able to fly around unnoticed. Plus, I'll have Rover with me as well to help out," he smirked at the robot helper that beeped excitedly.

"Zerith?" Shirley asked, confused.

"My Lion," Rai said with a smile.

"Oh! That's pretty!" Shirley commented.

"Thanks!"

"Okay, first you know how to reprogram Galra tech, now you can make your Lion invisible? Are you sure you're not an alien, Rai?" Milly asked with a teasing grin.

Rai shrugged, "I don't know. It's like I said, these things are easy for me… maybe it's something to do with my Geass?"

Lelouch glanced at C.C., who simply shrugged. She wasn't the one who gave Rai his Geass, so she didn't know.

"That's their main power generator," Coran said, pulling up the surface again, this time with a large structure in the center. "If you take that down, it will severely weaken their defenses."

"The three of us will stay in cloud cover and give tactical support," Allura said, pulling up a model of the Castle, some areas being pointed out next to it with Altean writing. "With the Castle's defenses weakened from Sendak's Crystal, we won't be of much help to you."

"Very well, I'll take out the power generator," Lelouch said, "Rai, get those sensors to the shafts. The rest of you will take out these big mining rigs around the area. Any objections?"

The rest of the Paladins shook their heads and agreed to the strategy.

"Yeah!" Milly jumped in the air, "Okay, let's do this! Let's go kick some alien butt!"

The Balmera's gravity pulled the Castleship into its atmosphere as the Paladins made their way to their respective Lions.

"You think the Balmerans will have a parade for us after we've freed everybody?" Rivalz asked as he settled in Blue. He had yet to come up with a name for her but promised he would soon. He had already thrown a few names her way, but all had been shot down. Rivalz didn't mind too much; it was her name after all.

Kallen's face showed up on his dashboard, Aka's cockpit in the background, "It's not about the glory, Rivalz. It's about freeing prisoners from Zarkon."

"No, I know. I know. But still. When they—" Rivalz didn't finish his sentence as he and the Blue Lion launched off into the atmosphere with the rest of the Lions. As they descended, the pillars surrounding the power generator started firing rapidly at the Lions. One even launched an attack that looked like a flying windmill blade that they had to maneuver around to avoid.

"This is it. Get your heads in the game," Lelouch ordered. "Remember, the Balmera is a living creature. Make sure you pinpoint only the Galra installations and not its surface."

Rai, Rover, and Zerith promptly broke off from the rest of the group and started flying low, closer to the ground.

"Initiating cloak," the Green Paladin said, as Zerith disappeared from view. The other Lions could still pinpoint where they were, but the Galra certainly wouldn't be able to. At each mining shaft he flew over, a B.L.I.P. device was dropped in and activated at the bottom.

As the installations continued to fire at them, Suzaku expertly maneuvered the Purple Lion up and around every strike like a pro. He shot back with blasts of his own from his Lion's tail. He noticed Rivalz, and Milly quickly followed his example as they took up his flanks.

As he flew, Suzaku noticed how much easier it felt to fly his Lion, compared to even the Lancelot. It was like he and the Lion were one being instead of just pilot and machine. It was so much more than that. He could feel it.

'I need to remember to find a name for you too,' Suzaku added mentally as they shot down another tower.

Shirley, on the other hand, had gone in closer to the ground, and her Lion was simply smashing into each tower, causing them to collapse.

Lelouch grit his teeth as he examined the base. He knew shooting at full power was out of the question, but his Lion was not quite bulky enough to just smash through either, "How do I take this thing down?"

He blinked as he felt the Black Lion brush against his mind as a screen showed up in front of him, "What's that?" he asked as the Lion elaborated. It was a picture of the Lion's head, and a pair of blades that seemed to extend from its jaw, "Jaw blade?" he questioned before smirking almost evilly, pushing the thrusters down, "Okay! Let's do this!"

The Black Lion growled as the blade formed around her jaw. With the weapon in place, she and Lelouch easily sliced through the generator's foundation like a hot knife through butter. It wasn't long until nearly the entire generator was destroyed.

"All sensors delivered," Rai confirmed just as he dropped the last one.

From inside the Castle of Lions, a screen appeared, showing all of the underground tunnels of the Balmera. They'd now easily be able to track any movements and guide the Paladins through without a hitch.

The biggest cannon was still giving them trouble. Team Voltron wouldn't be able to start the rescue until it was dismantled. After a couple more blasts, Kallen and Aka managed to get in close, as the Red Lion opened its maw, and outshot a pillar of pure fire that melted right through the cannon's support beam.

"Whoa! Did you guys just see that?!" Kallen exclaimed, a giant grin on her face, "I got fire powers!"

"Hey! I want that!" Rivalz whined.

"That is so awesome, Kallen!" Milly cried, a matching grin on her face.

The praises were short-lived, though, as the cannon suddenly shuddered and wobbled. It began to tip down towards the surface. The very thing that they didn't want to happen!

"Oh, no!" Rivalz shouted.

Before it could connect, however, Shirley managed to get under it in the Orange Lion and try to push it back up, "We can't let this thing hurt the Balmera!"

"I'm coming!" Suzaku shouted as he flew overhead. His Lion opened its mouth too, but instead of anything firing out of it, it started sucking wind and debris into it. Almost like-

"A black hole!" Suzaku said as the suction began to slow the descent gradually.

"Cool, Suzaku!" Milly exclaimed.

It wasn't enough, though; the structure was still falling too fast.

"We need to try something else!" Suzaku yelled, strain in his voice.

"I think my Lion knows what to do!" Rivalz said as he and the Blue Lion flew in closer. It opened its jaws too, and while everyone expected the tower to go up in flames, a blast of crisp white ice hit it instead, freezing it entirely in place and halting the crash.

"Ha-aw, snap! These rays are super cool, just like me!" Rivalz cheered.

"Well done, everyone!" Lelouch said, as the Lions all perched on top of the frozen cannon. However, as they looked across the Balmera's surface, they were perplexed to see that no ships were coming up to attack them.

"Something's wrong," Suzaku said, "Where are all the troops? They're not coming to the surface."

"He's right," Shirley said, as her face popped up on everyone's dashboards, "Last time I was here, I remember seeing a whole army of Galra down in the mines."

"We've located a hangar full of Galra fighters just below the surface," Allura informed them from the Castle, "Someone has to take those out before they can launch."

Lelouch grit his teeth. They were being lured down. It was obviously a trap. But… "We don't have a choice," he muttered. "Alright, we'll split into three teams. Suzaku, Kallen, and Rivalz will hit the hangar. Shirley, you, Rai, and Rover head to the prison to rescue Shay and the other Balmerans. Milly and I will track down the Galra soldiers. Any objections?"

"Nope!"

"Ten-four!"

"Nada!"

"You got it!"

"Leave it to us!"

"Let's do this!" Came the shouts as the Lions bounded off the tower and towards the tunnels.

o~o

Back at the Galran headquarters, Commander Prorok was waiting. It had been several varga since he'd contacted those bounty hunters that claimed to have the Blue Lion. They never arrived at their meeting point. This could only mean one of two things. They had either been caught by the other Paladins, or they had decided to keep the Blue Lion for themselves.

Whatever the case, it wasn't a completely lost cause. Thanks to their hailing, Prorok now knew where the Paladins were going. It was now merely a matter of when to strike them.

"Commander Prorok," Thace said, as he approached his superior, "we have word from the troops on Balmera X-95 Vox. The informants were right. Voltron is there."

"Excellent," Prorok smiled smugly, "Everything is going according to plan."

"How do you wish to proceed?" his subordinate asked, "Should we inform Emperor Zarkon?"

"Contact Subcommander Ylvik," Prorok ordered, turning to meet Thace's eye, "His fleet is awaiting my command. Tell him it's time to attack. I will update the Emperor."

o~o

The Black Lion landed with a bang at the bottom of the shaft. Fortunately, there had been no Galra fighters occupying it, so Lelouch had managed to land without too much trouble. Unfortunately, the cave tunnels were too small for the Lion to navigate due to its enormous size. But there was no need to worry as there was a way around this hiccup.

Lelouch's pilot chair slowly pulled back with him, still seated. It hit the back wall of the cockpit and then lowered into the Lion's chest. Inside was a speeder; all the Lions had one. As Lelouch's seat clicked into it, the Black Lion's chest opened and set him free. As the speeder departed, the Lion's particle barrier rose up, effectively securing it until Lelouch could return.

o~o

Inside another tunnel, Rivalz, Suzaku, and Kallen slowly crept up in their speeders to a ledge that quickly showed the hanger full of Galra fighters that Allura had mentioned earlier. They were quite surprised to see how only a few sentries were guarding them.

"The entire hangar's only being guarded by a few sentries?" Rivalz said, voicing everyone's question.

"We can take them! Let's go!" Kallen said as she pulled out her Bayard and was about to storm in before Suzaku grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Whoa, whoa! Kallen!" Suzaku hissed, "Do you not remember all that stuff about this Balmera thing being a sensitive animal?"

Kallen stopped struggling against Suzaku's grip, "Oh. Right," she said, feeling embarrassed.

"Yeah, I think going and blowing things up like psychos is the last thing we want to do right now," Rivalz agreed.

"Well, do either of you have a better idea?" Kallen snapped impatiently.

"I do actually," Rivalz said as he pointed to the other end of the gorge, "We sneak into the control room to shut down the bay doors. That'll trap the ships in."

"That—!" Kallen stopped herself as she processed Rivalz's words, as Suzaku smiled in agreement, "...Actually... is a better idea."

"Come on!" Suzaku said as he started sneaking across one of the catwalks, connecting the two sides together. Kallen and Rivalz were right behind him. They were reasonably narrow, so they had to move slowly and pray that none of the sentries spotted them doing so.

o~o

In another tunnel, Shirley and Rai, with Rover hovering in Rai's speeder with him, were struggling to locate Shay and her family. Despite the Orange Paladin's previous visit, it didn't mean she was suddenly a tunnel expert.

"Allura, Coran, w-what's our location?" Shirley asked, "All these tunnels look the same. I can't remember where the prison is."

"You're on the right path," Coran assured them as he looked at their map in the Castle. "Turn right at the next tunnel. Once you get there, you'll have to disable the energy doors."

"Be careful, though," C.C. added, "it's heavily guarded."

o~o

"No, no, over here more!" Kallen whispered as Suzaku was about to cut through the control room's ceiling.

"Calm down, Kallen, I know what I'm doing," the Purple Paladin said in an exasperated tone, as he plunged his katana through and cut a circular hole through. Below them, a single sentry was operating the controls. He didn't have time to react when he looked up to see what the noise was as the ceiling hole came crashing down with Suzaku on top of it, crushing it below. Kallen and Rivalz joined him a moment later.

"Alright, you two keep an eye out for guards," Rivalz said as he approached the control panel, "I'll see if I can find a way to shut the hangar doors."

Kallen and Suzaku both moved to the side to look out the bay windows. So far, it seemed their presence had gone unnoticed. The few sentries that were down below made no move or gesture to signify that they knew the Paladins were there.

Rivalz eyes lingered over different parts of the panel. Screens were showing the status of multiple base functions, a box with a Galran symbol on it, and a few other things. There were some buttons near the bottom of the screen that Rivalz pushed in a couple of patterns, but nothing happened or worked.

"Ah!" he finally groaned in defeat, "I don't know what I'm doing here. It's all Galra gibberish."

"Let me see," Suzaku said as he and Kallen came closer to try and help.

Just like with the Blue Paladin, they didn't understand what most of the text meant; the box near the upper center caught Suzaku's eye, though.

"Hmmm…" he hummed. He turned to the sentry that was now destroyed. He took out his Bayard again and sliced off the downed sentry's arm.

"What are you doing?" Kallen asked, confused.

"Let me try something," he said, as he placed the sentry hand over the symbol and box. It glowed red when he did it, and a buzzing sound filled the room as the hanger doors above slowly creaked shut.

"Nice thinking, Suzaku!" Rivalz cheered as Kallen nodded in agreement.

One task down, two to go.

o~o

Following Coran's directions, Shirley and Rai turned right at the next tunnel intersection. They were able to spot the prison doors about halfway down. As they approached, sentries started shooting at the two speeders, forcing them to stop. The Paladins and drone exited their rides and ducked behind the speeders for cover.

Shirley whipped out her bow and fired two consecutive shots at the robots, ultimately destroying both of them.

Despite the small victory, an uneasy feeling bubbled up in the Orange Paladin's chest.

"Shirley, that was way too easy," Rai said, voicing her exact thoughts, "I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Neither do I, Rai, but Shay's still in there!" Shirley argued.

Rai sighed as the three of them approached the energy doors.

"Do your thing Rover," Rai said as the drone beeped happily and scanned the control board. The energy barrier went down immediately. No bombs went off; no army was waiting for them on the other side. Rai was right; this was too easy.

They took the chance, though, and sprinted down the tunnel. Off to the side, they thought they heard a troop of sentries approaching, but the steps quickly faded. After turning another corner, Shirley finally spotted it. It was a cell door with some familiar faces on the other side. Rai had Rover scan the console here as well, and the doors opened to reveal Shay's mother, father, grandmother, and her brother Rax… but Shay wasn't there.

The Balmerans present looked up as the door opened, surprised delight on their faces.

"Shirley, you have returned," Shay's father exclaimed as he, his wife, and his mother, stood up to greet her.

"I promised I would be back," Shirley smiled as she grasped his hand. She turned around, hand outstretched, "This is Rai. He's one of my friends I told you about."

"Nice to meet you," he greeted with a smile. Rover clicked a greeting as well, "Oh, and this is Rover. Don't worry; he's with us too."

Shirley looked around the cell but then realized something.

"Where's Shay?" she asked urgently.

"Our life may not have been perfect, but our family was whole," Rax retorted and glared at the two Paladins. "Your arrival has left us imprisoned and torn apart. As soon as your attack started, they took her away to the core of the Balmera. For all we know, she could be gone for good."

Shirley gasped at this information as Rai grimaced, "This isn't good," he muttered.

"Paladins, are you there?" Allura asked urgently, as she Coran and C.C, saw the Galra forces converging at a point, "The Galra troops are moving down the tunnels. It looks like they're going down toward the center."

"They must be headed to the core of the Balmera," Shirley said, "That's where they're holding Shay."

o~o

Lelouch grit his teeth in frustration as he rode on his speeder. "They're drawing us into an ambush," he said objectively, "but we don't have a choice if we want to save Shay. We have to follow. Everyone, start heading to the core. We'll need to be together to get through this firefight."

o~o

"Copy that," Kallen's voice sounded as she and her team left the control room now that the launch doors were sealed, "we're on our way!"

Behind her, Suzaku quickly slashed through the control board to prevent anyone from trying to open the doors again. As the trio ran out, and the doors closed, Rivalz fired his Bayard at the control pad, effectively locking it behind them.

o~o

Milly gasped, and her speeder screeched to a halt as it almost crashed into what she thought was a dead-end of the tunnel. After she stopped and popped out of it, she saw that there wasn't a dead-end, but that the tunnel was simply narrow enough that she couldn't bring her speeder through.

"Looks like you're in an area where the tunnels are too narrow for your speeder," Allura informed her.

"Yeah, I see that," Milly said, stepping through the small gap, "proceeding on foot."

Milly had been walking for a couple of minutes when she spotted lights that were moving ahead of her. She jumped to the side, hiding from view, "There's someone here," she whispered urgently.

"Looking into it," Allura replied.

As the shadows crept closer and closer, Milly bit her lip before she jumped out and ran, raising her kusarigama Bayard to attack.

"Milly, no! Those are Balmerans!" Allura cried out just in time. Milly stopped short and lowered her weapon. Three young Balmeran children were standing in front of her. One of them was carrying a small lamp.

Milly sighed in relief that they weren't sentries. She looked up with a smile and waved to the children.

Suddenly, the ground underneath her began to quake, and a loud, high-pitched groan echoed through the tunnel. Small rocks, dust, and debris began to fall around them.

The three children gasped and turned to run in the other direction, but one of them tripped and fell. Above them, a large slab of stone shook loose and began to fall. Acting fast, Milly sprinted to the trio, using her jetpack for more momentum, and snatched the fallen child just as the slab crashed to the ground behind them. She set the Balmeran down next to her friends, who promptly hugged her close to them. Milly turned to view the damage behind her. She was completely blocked off from her speeder.

"Don't worry," she assured the children, "everything's going to be okay."

o~o

"Everyone," Milly's voice buzzed through the comms, "be careful. The Balmera is very unstable."

Kallen, Suzaku, and Rivalz almost didn't have time to start worrying about that. When they turned a corner, they were ambushed by a small platoon of sentries that were guarding a door. Rivalz and Kallen tumbled to the left, and Suzaku took shelter to the right of a battlecruiser output of the wall. As the laser shots zoomed past them, the ground vibrated again, and the pained echoes of the Balmera could be heard from all over the tunnels.

"Their shooting is destroying the Balmera. We gotta do something!" Kallen shouted over the noise.

"Well, we can't shoot back!" Rivalz said, "That'll just make it worse!"

They had to think of a plan, fast. The ground started shaking again as stone and rock tumbled down around them from the Balmera's pained screams.

Suzaku looked around, by the sentries and his teammates. Then he spotted a ladder behind Kallen. If the two of them climbed up to the upper level, they would have the advantage of higher ground. With Rivalz distracting them below, it would be easy!

"Kallen!" He whispered, urgently pointing behind her.

The Red Paladin shot him a confused stare before glancing behind and spotting the ladder. Making an 'o' with her mouth, she then smiled and gave a thumbs-up, realizing what the Purple Paladin had in mind.

As Suzaku scrambled to the other side with her, Rivalz leaped out and waved his hands in the air right in front of the platoon, "Na-na na-na boo-boo!"

As the sentries started firing at him again, he crouched down to the ground with his shield activated, hoping to block most of the shot from hitting the Balmera wall behind him. Some still made it to the other side, though. He gritted his teeth and endured it as Kallen and Suzaku ran across the upper level. Once they were on top of them, they leaped down and quickly finished them off with their weapons, Kallen blowing the last one up with her gauntlet.

"I love this thing!" she whispered with a smirk. She and Suzaku glanced back to check on Rivalz, who flashed them a smile and a thumbs up.

o~o

Rai and Shirley ran until they came across a closed door. According to Allura's directions, the core was on the other side. They would find Shay there.

"Okay, this should be it," Rai muttered as he directed Rover to unlock it. "Be ready, we don't know what's on the other side."

Shirley nodded and gulped, readying her bow to shoot. Despite being scared, she put on the bravest face she could as Rover beeped that he was finished.

Rai raised his hand with three fingers. Once his finger hit one, the two rushed in as the door opened, weapons drawn and prepared to fight. They came to an abrupt stop, though when no enemies came to greet them. There was only one occupant in the room, dangling in chains from the ceiling.

"Shay!" Shirley shouted in relief, "You're alive!"

The Balmera was hanging from the ceiling by her wrists and had a muzzle wrapped around her mouth. Upon spotting Shirley and Rai, she started struggling against her restraints, shaking her head furiously to try and dislodge the muzzle.

Aiming as carefully as she could, Shirley fired an arrow at the chains holding her up. As the Balmeran fell, Rai rushed to catch her from underneath. With a blast from his jetpack, Rai caught Shay bridle style, and slowly lowered them to the ground. Once there, Shirley started working trying to undue the muzzle, but it was clasped super tight. As the Orange Paladin assisted her friend, Rai looked around in disbelief. They were the only ones there. There were no guards, sentries, or even Rover's fellow droids. Nothing.

'Something's wrong,' he thought, eyes scanning around them.

"Where are the Galra?" Lelouch demanded as he ran in through another entrance, the other Paladins following from another. "If this is an ambush, they should be here waiting for us."

They got their answer as the doors they had moments ago run through, slammed shut and locked behind them.

"Not an ambush," Suzaku said, "more like a trap!"

"Whatever it is, keep your guard up!" Kallen shouted.

"The Galra, they gained knowledge that you would return to the Balmera," Shay said once Shirley removed the muzzle. The other Paladins joined her at the bottom.

"What? How?!" Rivalz asked.

"I know not," Shay answered with remorse, bowing her head, "But they set this trap just for you. I was the bait."

"Who could have possibly known that we were heading here to save Shay?" Rai asked incredulously.

Lelouch grit his teeth, already knowing who, but Milly beat him to the punch, "Rolo! Those liars must have told Zarkon!"

"It likely happened when they had the Blue Lion, to negotiate its trade," Lelouch said with a frown, "and we were foolish not to question them of such an action!" Lelouch mentally kicked himself for overlooking something so obvious.

"We need to get out here, fast!" Shirley said, looking around at the closed doors.

"Rai, can Rover hack the doors and get us out?" Suzaku asked the Green Paladin.

"If he was on the other side, he could. There are no control panels to do that here!" he answered. Rover beeped sadly, tilting downward as if ashamed.

"Wait! We have a giant Castleship hovering in the sky," Rivalz said, before contacting the said ship, "Allura, can you please come get us?"

"How do you expect her to do that, genius?" Kallen demanded.

"I don't know; maybe they got teleporters or something. Like from Star Trek." Rivalz suggested.

o~o

"We're quite occupied at the moment," Allura informed them urgently and grunted as another shot from a Galra fighter hit the ship's shields. There were over a dozen of them surrounding the Castle, "We're completely surrounded by Galra ships, and we're taking heavy fire!"

The shots were coming from every direction, giving the ship no place to maneuver. Alarms started blaring, and the screens in front of the ship's occupants turned red with warnings of malfunction.

"Princess, our particle barrier won't last much longer!" Coran informed her urgently.

"Do you have any other forms of attacking besides the Lions?" C.C. asked, holding onto one of the control tables as another blast rocked the ship.

"We do, but I'm not sure how long they'll last," Allura informed the immortal.

"It's better than nothing!" she countered as she made her way to another screen that popped up by the princess. A targeting system appeared in front, and C.C. grasped the two control sticks that appeared in front of her. She pressed down on the handles and started firing back at the fleet intensely. Despite managing to take a few ships down, more continued to pour in.

"Paladins, you need to get out of there as soon as you can!" Allura cried out.

o~o

"This is it! We're going to die in here. I can say bye-bye to that parade," Rivalz lamented as he sagged down. Everyone shot him unimpressed looks.

"Everyone focus!" Lelouch ordered, "Allura, we'll get there as soon as we can!"

"Perhaps my people can help us get out," Shay suggested. She walked towards the core of the Balmera and placed a hand lightly on top of it. "This is how we communicate. The Balmera senses our vibrations and sends a message to those in the tunnels."

"Are you sure someone will be able to hear your... hand from all the way down here?" Kallen asked skeptically.

"The Balmera will deliver the message," Shay reassured them as she closed her eyes in concentration. Her hand started to glow, and the Balmera groaned around them. The Paladins watched mesmerized. Shay stood still, not moving a muscle from the core.

o~o

Elsewhere on the Balmera, Shay's family was making their way back to their home inside. Their faces were sad and solemn, believing that a member of their family was gone forever despite was Shirley said.

The four suddenly stopped as the Balmera groaned. Rax bent down, placing his hand on the ground.

"It's a message from Shay!" he exclaimed, shocked.

"She's alive!" her father rejoiced as his wife and mother smiled at the news.

"The Paladins of Voltron went to the core of the Balmera to save Shay... and now they are all trapped," Rax informed them, eyes narrowing.

"Then we are all doomed," his father mourned, looking down in despair.

"This is all my fault," Rax said, standing up, guilt swelling in his chest, "I conspired against them, and because of my actions, Shay was imprisoned. The orange female was right. If we ever hope to be free, we must take action."

"But how can we rise up against our Galra overlords?" his father asked.

"What choice do we have?" Rax asked, "They have stolen all of the crystals from our Balmera. Our lives are worthless to them now."

"But Balmerans have never fought." his father countered.

"You taught me that without family, we have nothing," Rax argued, a fire of rebellion blazing in his eyes. "The Galra have taken Shay. How can we do nothing while the Paladins sacrifice everything to save us? We must do our part!"

o~o

Prorok kneeled before Zarkon, smirking at the knowledge that his plan was working out. The Emperor would no doubt be pleased with him for his efforts. Within the next few varga, Voltron would be within the Galra's grasp at last.

"Lord Zarkon, I have news to report. News that will likely please you, my Emperor."

"Proceed," Zarkon commanded, no emotion on his ancient face.

"I have the Voltron Paladins trapped on a Balmera in the Javeeno star system," the commander informed him, with a proud grin. "I've ordered a fleet to capture the Lions and destroy the Altean Castle."

To Prorok's surprise, though, the Emperor was far from pleased with his report, and scowled contemptibly, "You fool! You dare make plans without informing me?"

"Forgive me, Emperor…" Prorok shrank back in fear, "...but I saw an opportunity, and I took it for the glory of the Galra Empire."

"I suspect that you are seeking your own glory, Prorok," Zarkon growled, "But you do not realize Voltron's power." He knew that there were only a few that knew Voltron's full potential. Not even the Altean Princess did, much less the new Paladins…

o~o

As the Castle continued to be fired upon, a dozen Galra fighters broke off from the formation and began to descend towards the Balmera.

"They're heading down into the tunnels!" Coran gasped, "They're going to steal the Lions!"

"Paladins, the Lions are in danger! You must get back to them immediately!" Allura called out desperately.

On C.C.'s targeting scanner, a small alert popped up, directing them to the cause of it in the distance.

"Something's locked onto us!" she informed them as they spotted a large Galra cruiser with an ion cannon affixed on top.

o~o

"Paladins, do you copy?" Allura asked, "There's a battlecruiser locked onto us. If it fires with its ion cannon, I don't know if we can survive."

"We're trying, Allura," Shirley replied anxiously.

"Yeah, Shay's pressing her hand against the wall, which apparently sends vibrations to the other rock people," Rivalz tried explaining, "who vibrate back or something? Hand talking? I guess the answer to your question is, 'Yes, we copy.'"

"Shay, are you sure the Balmera is sending your message?" Suzaku asked urgently.

As Shay began focusing harder, her family appeared behind one of the doors. They pressed their hands against the wall surface, causing it to glow blue. The wall suddenly constricted, knocking the door off its hinges.

The Paladins and Shay all jumped and turned to where the door had been initially. As the dust settled, Shay's family stood in the doorway to greet them.

"Rax!" Shay exclaimed, happily.

"We must make haste!" Rax replied urgently, "We know a shortcut through the tunnels."

"Princess, stand by," Lelouch called out to the Castle, "we're on our way up!"

o~o

Lelouch and his speeder had scrambled back to the Black Lion just in time. Two Galra ships were using tracker beams to try and drag it out.

"Paladins, hurry! They're taking off with the Lions!" Allura said.

Gritting his teeth, Lelouch thrust the speeder forward. A small opening was made in the particle barrier, and the Black Paladin disappeared back inside his Lion. With a roar, the Black Lion broke free of the tractor beams and zoomed out of the Balmera tunnel.

"Paladins report! Did everyone make it to their Lions?" Lelouch asked as he hovered above the mines.

He got his answers as the six other Lions promptly burst from the tunnels and joined him on the surface in formation.

"Come on, Lelouch. Who you think you're dealing with? A bunch of amateurs—" Rivalz didn't finish his sentence as he and the Blue Lion ran headfirst into what remained of one of the Galra structures, which the other six Lions easily avoided.

"You really want me to answer that, Rivalz?" Lelouch smirked in amusement despite the situation.

"No," the Blue Paladin groaned.

The Lions quickly regrouped as the Galra fleet started firing furiously at them. The Red, Green, Blue, and Yellow Lions fired shots of their own while the Orange Lion tore through them with its armor and powerful jaws. The Purple Lion followed suit, sucking in every aircraft it could and tearing the wings off and destroying them. Finally, the mighty Black Lion sliced through several fighters with its jaw blade in effect. It was like a hot knife through butter!

The fleet was getting obliterated every second they continued to fight. Balls of fire rained down from the sky.

As another wave came flying at them, Kallen and Rivalz put their Lions attacks together to wipe them out. Kallen melting half of them as Rivalz froze the rest completely.

Shirley grabbed another fighter in the Orange Lion's maw and proceeded to ram into four more before tossing the stack away as it exploded in a fiery inferno.

From above her, though, she didn't have time to dodge as three more began firing at her.

"Shirley, watch out!" Rai cried as he and Zerith flew to cover her, the shots having little effect against the Green Lion's shield on its back.

"I'm coming!" Lelouch shouted as he and the Black Lion zoomed overhead and sliced through the three assailants. They blew up quickly.

"Phew! Thanks, boys!" Shirley said with a smile.

Milly and Suzaku charged another five Galra fighters from above. They seemed ready to dive-bomb them.

Milly thrust the control of the Yellow Lion forward, intending to take them out with one shot. To her surprise, however, when the Yellow Lion opened its mouth, it didn't shoot a blast of energy, but a tiny ball of light… which moments later expanded to illuminate the battlefield, blinding everyone but the Paladins, whose visors came down automatically to protect their vision.

"Woah!" Milly exclaimed in shocked excitement, "Did you guys just see that?!"

"Nice, Milly!" Suzaku complimented as he sucked the five fighters towards them, and chomped down on them at once. They blew up as he tossed them aside.

Despite the Paladins' growing success, the Castle was still facing a threat from the Galra warship. The ion cannon began to charge up, ready to fire.

"It's charging its ion cannon!" Coran exclaimed in fear.

"Divert all shields to the bow!" Allura ordered.

"That'll leave the rest of the ship completely vulnerable!" Coran argued.

"Leave that to me!" C.C. said, still at blaster controls.

As the shields converged in front of the ship, it met the blast of the ion cannon head-on. Allura grit her teeth as the blast pressed against the shield. It began to fizzle out, losing power fast.

"Paladins, I need you immediately! Five more ticks, and we're finished!"

"Very well!" Lelouch shouted, "Team, let's form Voltron!"

"Yes/Yeah!" the rest of the team screamed out as the Lions roared and converged.

Within moments the giant juggernaut appeared before them and emerged from the clouds and headed straight for the Galra warship. It slammed into the bottom of the ship. As the Paladins screamed, Voltron shoved the ship upwards, diverting the cannon blast away from the Castle of Lions in the knick of time.

"Right, now is our chance, Princess!" Coran proclaimed.

"Full power on the blasters!" Allura ordered as the holographic image lined up with the target, "Lock onto target. Fire!"

At Allura's command, the Castle unleashed a sizeable blue beam of energy straight at the Galra ship. Voltron flew out of the way just as the shot hit the ship, straight through the helm. Within moments the warship exploded in a fiery inferno, taking out whatever remained of its Galra fighters with it.

"Yes!"

"Woo-hoo!"

"Whoop-whoop!"

"Nice shot, Princess!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah! The Parade's back on!"

Lelouch simply smirked victoriously from the Black Lion, watching the firework show.

The day was theirs.

o~o

"The Galra fleet and all Sentries on the Balmera have been defeated!" a communications officer reported to the throne room.

Prorok's face fell at the news. That wasn't possible. He was sure he could obtain Voltron!

"No!" the commander gasped, "How could this be? Lord Zarkon, I will do all that I can to recapture Voltron for the Galra!"

"Silence, Prorok!" Zarkon thundered, causing the commander to flinch away, "I have plans that you can not comprehend."

o~o

Voltron touched down lightly on the Balmera's surface, the Castleship preparing to settle just behind them.

"Mission accomplished!" Kallen grinned as she leaned back in Aka's pilot chair. She hadn't felt this pumped since her first official mission with Ohgi's old group before Lelouch/Zero had come in to play.

"And just in the tick of time," Allura agreed, "The Castle's defenses are battered and will need to fully recharge."

Allura spoke too soon, though, as the Castle's proximity alarms blared to life. Something was approaching the Balmera's atmosphere. Fast.

"There's an unknown object incoming!" Coran said as a massive fireball could be seen from the ship's bridge, "It's about to crash into the Balmera!"

Lelouch silently cursed as the object crashed into the surface. As the dust cleared, a familiar-looking black coffin-like ship could be seen in the distance.

"What the heck?!" Rivalz exclaimed.

"What is that?!" Milly asked.

Additional noises of confusion could be heard from the other Paladins as well.

"...Trouble." Lelouch spat, teeth grinding in his jaw. The battle wasn't over. It had only just begun.

#Fanfiction #AU #Voltron #Code Geass #lelouch lamperouge #c.c.#kallen kozuki #suzaku kururugi #rivalz cardemonde #milly ashford #shirley fenette #rai (lost colors)#princess allura #coran #balmera #galra empire

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