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marril96 · 3 years

Text

Hopefully Forever

Characters: Rowena, reader, Sam, Dean, Castiel

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: A misunderstanding between friends leads to conflict and jealousy.

A/N: Based on a prompt by the lovely Loveless00 from AO3. AU, set post 15x03.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

The atmosphere in the Bunker was dark, somber, as if the sky had turned gray and poured down a never-ending stream of rain. There was no usual chatter, no inappropriate jokes and the barking of laughter you usually found immensely annoying and now yearned for. Yearned for normalcy because this was not normal, far from it, and you hated it.

Unease roiled in your stomach like a whirlpool, your shoulders tense with discomfort. You didn't want to be here. You wanted to go home, far away from the gloominess, though, at this point, you were certain it would follow you anywhere you went.

Jack was dead. The rupture to Hell had been closed. Runaway ghosts returned to their rightful place. There was a problem with Belphegor absorbing the souls and attempting to make himself god, but that, too, had been dealt with. The fight was intense, brutal. It had taken a lot out of everyone. By the time you, Rowena, Sam, Dean, and Castiel had arrived at the Bunker, you were all collectively exhausted.

The sun was bright in the sky the entire trip, shining in your eyes even as you leaned on Rowena's shoulder and closed your eyes in a feeble attempt to rest them. Clouds were pearly white, sky the brightest, most beautiful blue. There was irony in that, as if God himself were playing an elaborate joke.

Given what you'd found out these past few days, you wouldn't put it past him.

An attempt at celebration was made, whiskey taken out and offered, but no one was in a party mood. Least of all Sam and Dean. It was understandable; they'd only just lost a boy who's been a son to them. Lost him to a man — a being — they trusted, only to end up betrayed. Who would have thought God, of all people, could be evil?

You were never a big fan, but that one time you'd met him years ago he seemed nice enough. Friendly. Nowhere near evil. Amara had been right back then (well, aside from the whole ending the world thing). You'd teamed up with the wrong deity.

"You alright?" you asked for what must have been the hundredth time in the past few hours.

Rowena, exhausted, eyes framed with midnight crescents as if she'd been struck, gave a small nod. "Aye."

You could tell she wasn't, though, given everything that happened, she was as okay as she could be. The fight had taken a toll on her. At one point, when all hope seemed lost at defeating Belphegor, she'd offered a sacrifice of her life, but you were quick to put a stop to it. Before Sam could even consider acting on their fate, you'd made it clear she wasn't dying — and, if she somehow did, Sam would be joining her soon after. Knowing you meant every word, she dropped the subject.

Accidents were one thing. But no matter how much you appreciated Sam for all he'd done for Rowena, how kindly he'd treated her, you would never let him live if he were to take her from you on purpose. Even if she were to give her blessing. You weren't going to lose her; not again, and certainly not for good. Not without consequences.

In the end, through everyone's joint efforts, Belphegor had been taken care of. Without a single life lost.

You squeezed Rowena's hand and pulled her to stand closer. Sitting in a chair, your head perfectly fit against her stomach. She let you nestle, her other hand caressing first your cheek and then your scalp.

"Are you?" she asked in that gentle tone that was so unlike her, that she reserved only for when the two of you were alone. Considering no one paid you any attention, you might as well be.

"Yeah. Just tired."

You would have headed straight home, but Lawrence was closer than the town you were in, so you decided to hitch a ride with the boys.

"We'll go home soon," Rowena said.

"Mmhm," you mumbled, comfortable despite the unpleasant fabric of her dress. You'd told her it was a ridiculous thing to get changed into, amidst a fight no less, but there was no changing her mind.

"We should have a toast," Sam suddenly said, startling you from your thoughts. He raised his glass of whiskey. "For Jack."

Everyone followed almost automatically, glassed up in the air.

"For Jack," Dean said, gulping the entire glass.

"For Jack," Castiel said with a nod, not one for drinks.

Rowena, too, joined in. "For Jack."

As did you. "For Jack."

The drink burned at your throat. You set your glass aside, face scrunched at the unpleasant taste.

Rowena, the experienced Scot, downed hers without issue.

"He was a good kid," Sam said. "We… we couldn't have asked for better."

That he was. You were no fan of kids, but there was something about Jack that made you like him. He was just… sweet. Kind. Good-natured, despite his parentage. Even after he'd lost his soul, he'd tried to do good. He'd done bad things, had made bad choices, but never intentionally. Never maliciously.

"He wasn't perfect, but he was our son," Sam said, eyes red with tears. "We loved him."

"That we did," Dean agreed, refilling his glass and gulping the contents.

Rowena's eyes prickled, almost as crimson as Sam's. You squeezed her hand in comfort. She wasn't the boy's biggest fan initially, but all it took for her to fall in love with him were a few kind words and a smile. He'd won her over in an instant. She would never admit to it, but you could tell she saw a bit of Fergus in him. The son she'd lost, that she'd abandoned. The son she would never forgive herself for not being able to see grow up.

Jack had lost his soul in order to get Michael out of her. In a way, she felt responsible. No matter how many times you assured her it wasn't her fault, she was adamant she bore part of the blame.

"He'll never be forgotten," Castiel said.

"No," Sam said, tears falling down his face. "He will not. We'll never…" He put his glass down. Gulped. Sucked in a breath.

"Sam?" Dean inquired, worried.

Shaking his head, Sam rushed past him. Past Castiel, and you, and Rowena, and up to the bedrooms.

Your heart clenched. Poor man. He'd tried so hard to save Jack, had fought so hard, only to lose him when he least expected it. It wasn't fair.

As you'd come to know in these past few years, life was rarely, if ever, fair. Fate, a cold-hearted bitch, had a tendency to strike the blindside. Sneak up like a criminal and hit where it hurt the most.

"I've got this," Rowena said when Dean started after his brother, holding her hand up to stop him. She lowered her glass next to yours and told you, "I'll be back in a flash, love."

A kiss to your scalp, and she was gone.

It made sense that she, of all people, would talk to Sam. It was him that had noticed she was hurting after her ordeal at Lucifer's hands. It was him that had given her a safe space to talk about it, and had, for the first time ever, opened up about his own trauma. It was him that had first given her a chance, when his brother had thought her nothing but a wicked villain.

The two of you loved each other, truly, deeply, but you could never understand her the way Sam did. It was a blessing, in a way; you'd never suffered the way they had, had never experienced that kind of agony. But you would be lying if you said you didn't wish you could comprehend it.

Now that Sam had lost a son, it was yet another thing the two of them had in common. Yet another thing you couldn't relate to.

Another blessing, as far as you were concerned, and, at the same time, a curse. Because, instead of being here, holding your hand, letting you lean on her, letting you feel her, she was there with him. You'd almost lost her mere hours earlier, and she was with him.

It was a selfish thought, and you instantly chastised yourself for it. She'd gone to comfort a friend, as he had in the past. She didn't have to spend every waking moment with you.

It wasn't healthy to want her to.

But, in some strange way, you were already missing her.

*****

Rowena walked in without waiting for a response for her knock and tenderly closed the door behind her. Sam was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, face hidden in his hands. If he took notice of her presence, he didn't show it. Didn't make a sound, a single gasp or a groan.

"Samuel?" Rowena said softly. The same way he'd said her name back when he'd decided to approach the issue of Lucifer, when he'd noticed she was hurting.

He was the one hurting now, and she wanted to return the favour.

You'd been there for her since day one and she appreciated it immensely. You'd held her hand, held her as she cried and wept and sobbed. You'd woken to her screams countless times in the middle of the night and whispered sweet nothings until she'd felt safe again. You'd stood by her, comforted her, loved her at her very worst, at her ugliest. Had never once given up on her, no matter how hard it was. No matter how bad the memories of her horrifying death had hit her.

You'd been there through it all.

But you didn't understand. You couldn't, having never endured anything remotely like it. Rowena was grateful for that, had hoped you would never even come close to understanding what she'd been going through. What she was still, even years later, going through.

Sam, on the other hand, knew exactly what it was like. He'd experienced Lucifer's cruelty first hand. Even though they were enemies, he didn't hesitate to offer her advice, to extend a helping hand. For a hunter, the man was kind to a fault. He'd had no issue talking to her about his experiences. Had no qualms about answering her calls when she couldn't fall asleep and didn't have the heart to wake you — and why would she? As much as you wanted to help, you didn't get it. You would — Rowena hoped; gods, she hoped — never get it.

Sam did. He had advice. A listening ear. Just hearing that soft "I know" every time she'd describe a new nightmare, a new feeling of dread, made Rowena feel better. Made her feel less alone for there was someone else out there, someone just like her.

Were it not for you and Sam, she doubted she would have managed to keep her sanity.

"Everything's fine," the hunter muttered, wiping at his face with his calloused hands. "I'm fine."

Just like she was fine after Lucifer. He might fool his brother with that nonsense, but Rowena knew better. She knew him better.

"Bottling it up will only make it worse," she said.

She would know; she'd kept her emotions in, had forced herself to not react, to not feel, until she got her power back and decided she couldn't — didn't want to — keep it in anymore. Until she'd exploded, literally, at Death herself.

"When I lost Fergus…" She gulped. Swallowed down a rush of sadness, of guilt that still ate at her like acid. Of all the things she'd done, she would never forgive herself the wrong she'd done her son. "When I heard of his demise, I completely lost my direction. And, well, you know how that went down."

She still wanted him back. Gods, she wanted it. Wanted her second chance. Hated herself, this world, God himself because she would never get it.

"It's okay to feel."

It was something you always told her, drilled into her, despite her conviction against it, until it stuck. She'd spent so much time, so many centuries, not feeling, that feeling was scary. It chilled her bones. It hurt. But it was necessary. It was what made her human.

"Jack was a lovely boy." The loveliest. Rowena wasn't a fan until she'd met him, until he spoke so kindly to her and gave her that smile that melted all the ice in her heart. Unlike what she'd thought, he was nothing like his father. He was a good person. A good boy. Another child she'd allowed herself to care for and lost because that appeared to be her curse. "You raised him well."

Sam raised his head. Allowed himself a sliver of a smile. "He was a good kid."

"He was," Rowena agreed. "You did your best for him."

The hunter shook his head. "It wasn't enough. He's still…"

He's still dead.

"You can't save everyone, Sam," Rowena told him.

"He was my son! I should've…" More tears fell. He wiped at them with his sleeve. "I should've done more."

Carefully, Rowena stepped towards him. Laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You were there for him." Unlike her with Fergus. "You cherished him. You loved him." The things she didn't allow herself to do until it was too late. Until it didn't matter anymore. "Wherever he is now, I'm sure he appreciates it."

Unlike Fergus, Jack went to his death loved. He wasn't alone; in his few short years of life, he'd never been alone. He'd never been abandoned.

Sam gave a small nod. "Yeah. I just… He should be here. He didn't deserve to die."

"Children never do," Rowena said. Not even when they were centuries old and rulers of Hell. No parent wanted to lose their child.

Sam looked up at her, wounded puppy eyes meeting hers. Devastated. Broken. "Rowena, what am I supposed to do?"

Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She'd asked you the same thing once, a sobbing, shaking mess in your arms, guilt rummaging her from the inside out. "Keep living," you'd told her. "He'd want you to." And she did. No matter how much it hurt, she kept on living. She allowed herself to smile again, to laugh. To feel joy, even as grief was tearing her apart.

She didn't have to forget Fergus to move on.

She just needed to accept that he was gone.

"Keep living," Rowena said. "Jack wouldn't want you to suffer, would he? Keep him here." She brushed her hand against his scalp. "And here." Then his heart. "But don't let these feelings hold you down. You're a survivor, Sam Winchester. So survive."

He gave a bitter chuckle. "Easier said than done."

"Och, aye. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try."

It was hard, but he could do it. Just like she had done it. She'd fought tooth and nail for it; fought herself, her heart, but in the end she'd managed to get her life back as much as she could.

A fresh batch of tears spilled from Sam's eyes. In a trembling voice, he muttered, "I miss him."

"Och, dear, I know." Rowena squeezed his shoulder in comfort. "I know."

His arms were suddenly around her waist, and, before she could react, he buried his face in her stomach and wept. A giant of a man, and he wept like an inconsolable child. Tears drenched the fabric of her dress, the cold brushing over her skin.

Rowena stood still, startled. Unsure how to respond. It was one thing when it was you, but this was Sam. Big, strong Sam. The fearless hunter. Her best — and only — friend in the world.

"It's okay, Sam," she said, patting his back. Rubbing gentle circles over it.

She let him hold onto her. Let him cry his eyes out and drench her dress. Let him seek comfort the way she'd sought his. He was fragile, a porcelain doll of a man. Easy to crumble. Trying his hardest not to, even as cracks enveloped his body.

Losing a child was the hardest thing a parent could endure. Even centuries earlier, when she'd forbid herself from loving Fergus, when she'd left him without a shred of regret, the news of his — first, human — death had pierced her heart like nothing before ever had. It was one thing to leave him, one thing to know he was among the living, but to find out he was no longer there? That he no longer breathed the same air, walked the same earth, looked at the same moon? It was too much even for the cold, heartless Rowena.

Losing him two years ago had hit twice as hard. This time she'd allowed herself to feel… something. Love, she'd realized, much too late. The thing that used to scare her, that she'd thought made her weak. She loved him now — she really did, more than she thought she was capable of. The way she should have loved him when he was a child. She'd gotten a second chance, and she'd managed to blow it.

It only made her miss him more.

Despite the hardened man he'd grown into, Fergus had been a gentle child. He was soft spoken, shy. Had loved to be held. Preferred to curl up against her rather than sleep on his own cot, no matter how cruel she was. No matter how much she hurt him.

Rowena would never forgive herself for not doing right by him.

Sam, at the very least, had that in his favour. No matter what, he'd never given up on Jack. Had never hurt him. Even when it was hard, when Jack had lost his soul and did horrible things, Sam never stopped loving him.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sam pulled away and started rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Sorry," he said, avoiding her eyes. Ashamed of falling apart in the arms of a person he never thought he'd get to call his friend. "I didn't mean to, you know…"

"It's fine," Rowena shrugged him off. Put on a friendly smile. "Good thing you didn't off me, isn't it?"

The hunter gave a small smile. "Definitely."

They joked about it now, but, at the time, Rowena was more than willing to put her life on the line. After all, everything fit — a demon mad with hunger for power, Sam, her. The prophecy fate had foretold, of her death at his hands. It was perfect. It was magic. And, if there was anything Rowena believed in, it was magic.

Had you not stepped in, had Dean and Castiel not found another way, things would have played out as intended. As fate said they would.

Rowena was okay with that. The last thing she wanted was to leave you, but if all the cards were right, if she could make the world safe for you to live in even at the cost of her not being in it anymore, she wouldn't regret a thing. No matter how much you hated her. Magic came first.

You came first.

"I'll kill you," you'd said — spat, bitterly, venomously — as Rowena had shoved the knife in Sam's hands. "I swear to god, you lay one hand on her, and you're dead."

"Y/N—" Rowena had tried, only to be cut off.

"No! I'm not losing you. I can't. Either you both live, or you both die. I don't give a damn about fate, or the world. You're the most important thing in my life, and I'm not gonna let some hunter take you from me just because you say it's fine. It's not fine with me."

Rowena knew you would do it. You wouldn't hesitate, not for a moment, to avenge her. Even if she was okay with dying. Even if she'd resigned to her fate.

You loved her too much for your own good. The fact both flattered and frightened her.

Sam got to his feet. Sucked in a large breath. He was a giant of a man, towering over her, but still broken. Still a sad wee thing. Not a single intimidating bone in him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "About that. I didn't wanna kill you."

She didn't exactly want to die, either.

"I don't know what I would've done if it had come to that."

He would probably be dead, sipping martinis down with her in Hell.

Rowena decided to keep that particular comment to herself.

"I still mean what I said back then," he said with such determination Rowena didn't have the heart to squash. "I want to change our fate."

The truth was, it couldn't be changed. They could try, but she doubted there would be results. Fate was a clever thing; it took what it wanted, exactly the way it wanted. Rowena doubted she and Sam would be one of the few lucky enough to trick it.

She strived for it, but she didn't allow herself to hope. She couldn't for hope had done nothing but lie through its pearly white teeth.

"Me, too," Rowena said. And she did, she truly wanted it. She just didn't think it would accomplish much.

It was worth a try, though. Anything that allowed her to be with you, to have you for more than just a few measly years, was worth at least a consideration.

"I don't wanna lose you," Sam said.

Rowena offered him a smile, one of those that reciprocated his words without her having to utter a single one of her own. You were the love of her life, but she needed someone on the outside. Someone who knew what it was like to live in fear and wake up soaked in sweat.

She needed a friend.

"You're getting sappy, Winchester," she teased.

"Sorry," Sam said with a flicker of a smile. A tease of his own. "I just… I really like having you around."

"Likewise," she told him. He was a good person. Gentle. Kind. Witches and hunters weren't meant to be friends, yet here they were, defying odds. Hoping to defy fate, as well.

If they didn't make it, if fate played out as it was supposed to, at the very least you wouldn't be alone. You and the Winchesters weren't the best of friends, but they would be there for you. They would protect you, if any rogue hunters were to come calling.

Rowena would be leaving you in safe hands.

"But don't tell anyone I said that," she joked. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"You got it," Sam said with a chuckle.

He stepped toward her. Laid his hands — his massive, calloused hands — on her shoulders; a surprisingly tender gesture for a giant such as him. His eyes fell on hers, soft and lovely. A warm smile grazed his face, lit it up in spite of the tears still drying on his cheeks.

Rowena stared, frozen. Not daring to move for she feared it would make everything worse. He was going to hug her, wasn't he? He was going to wrap his arms around her and envelop her in a bone-crushing hug like the bloody sap that he was, and there wasn't a thing in the world she could do about it.

Oh, well. As much as it disgusted her, it was just a hug. It was a thing friends did. She would survive. So long as nobody saw.

It had taken her a while to get used to your hugs, and even more so to allow herself to initiate them. Maybe it was time that she stopped averting hugs from friends, as well.

It was a human gesture, she reminded herself. It wasn't a weakness. It didn't hurt. Just the opposite — it was a sign of love. She didn't have to throw her arms around every person that smiled at her or engage in sweet talk with strangers.

She could hug a friend, in private, away from prying eyes.

She mentally prepared herself, readied her arms to lock around Sam's back, but the embrace never came. Instead, the hunter's eyes fell to her lips, and so did his mouth, and before she could process what was going on, he was kissing her, full force, tongue breaking in.

Rowena shoved him off with all the strength she could muster. "Samuel," she said, completely and utterly baffled, "what in hell are you doing?"

"Yeah, Samuel," you said from the doorway, a storm brewing in your eyes. Furious. Deadly. "What in hell are you doing?"

As if things weren't already bad enough.

Bollocks!

*****

There were only so many stories about Jack you could listen to without tearing up. You weren't close to the boy, but, damn, all the little anecdotes Dean and Castiel shared about him made him feel like family.

It wasn't a hard feat to accomplish; he was a good person, a good kid. Easy to love and get along with. The only Winchester (well, technically) you genuinely liked to be around.

"There he was," Dean was saying, lips twitching with humor, "flipping through Busty Asian Beauties with this confused look on his face. When I snatched it back, he asked why they were all naked. Sam was pissed I left my magazine out in the open, but, man, it was worth it." His face turned dark, somber. He finished what had to have been his fifth glass of scotch. "It was worth the memory."

It surely was. It was weird how random things, however meaningless, seemingly insignificant, made for some of the best memories. Like that time Rowena had gotten up on her tiptoes to grab something from a higher shelf and spilled the contents all over herself. Or the time she was teaching you a spell and you'd turned your hair purple on accident — and had kept the color until it faded naturally, much to Rowena's utmost annoyance.

Every moment mattered. However small, it had value once it became a memory. Once the person you shared it with was gone, forever.

You took a sip of your drink and grimaced at the taste, but gulped it down in stride. It was easy once you got the hang of it. Once it started making the reminiscing more bearable, started making your eyes stop welling up with tears you were barely holding back.

These were private moments. Intimate. Meant for family which you would never be part of. It felt wrong to listen in on the grief, to intrude on it.

You didn't want to be here anymore. You wanted to go home.

You wanted Rowena.

She'd been gone an awful while, and you were missing her immensely. What was going on with her and Sam? Had the hunter fallen apart — literally — and she had to reassemble the pieces, one little bit at the time?

You understood he needed comfort, understood Rowena's need to provide it, but it was taking too long. Way longer than it usually took them to talk.

It would be rude to interrupt. But, at the same time, it would be rude to stay here, to invade on someone's grief. To sit around awkwardly while they shared memories that meant everything to them, and not a single thing to you.

You were tired. Overwhelmed. Events from earlier still replaying in your head, an endless rerun of fear and desperation. All you wanted was to curl up with Rowena — in your house, in your bed — and fall asleep to the gentle beats of her heart.

Finishing your drink, you rose up to your feet and headed for Sam's room. If Dean and Castiel noticed your absence, they didn't comment on it, lost in their reminiscing.

The hallway was quiet. Not a single noise within earshot; not a mosquito, not a fly. It was weird, but a welcome sensation nonetheless. Silence beat the quacking of crowds and the sounds of busy traffic. One of the reasons you used to hate staying in hotels Rowena loved. They were lovely, the highest of class, but there were too many people. Too much noise.

It had been a struggle to convince Rowena to settle down in the suburbs. She'd only relented once you'd agreed for it to be a wealthy one. The woman was nothing if not classy.

Sam's room was silent. There was no muttering, no soft, hushed voices. No noise of movement. You knocked shyly, once, twice. Had they gone somewhere else to talk? If they had, where? The bunker was large; there were rooms you'd never been to. Rooms you were pretty sure Sam and Dean themselves had never been to.

They could be anywhere.

You felt your phone in your pocket, prepared to use it if Rowena weren't here, and then slowly pushed the door open.

You expected to find them sitting in silence. Expected to find Rowena whispering words of comfort, and Sam with his face buried in his hands. Hell, expected an empty room.

Expected anything — everything — other than the two of them standing close to each other, so close their bodies brushed together. His hands on her shoulders, holding her steady, in place. His eyes on her mouth, his lips connecting with hers.

Rowena pushed him away and said, "Samuel, what in hell are you doing?"

Your teeth clenched. Hands balled into tight fists. Stomach churned with unease, with anger that bubbled and boiled. Magic burned in your veins, ready to break free at your command. Ready to attack, to obliterate its target.

"Yeah, Samuel." You spat the name like it was filth, the worst of poisons. "What in hell are you doing?"

Startled, Rowena spun toward you. Her face, pale as that of a ghost, was pure shock. Fear for you were certain she knew what was to come. She knew you.

"In fact," you hissed at her, "what in hell have you been doing?"

You didn't want to imagine the possible scenarios, didn't want those images in your head, but they kept coming. Sam and Rowena's hands twined together. Lips locked in a kiss. Mouths wide in smiles. Lost in each other, Dean and Castiel and Jack forgotten.

You forgotten.

You shook the thoughts off. Tears prickled at your eyes; you willed them back, didn't dare let them fall. It's not real, you told yourself. It didn't happen.

But what if it had? What if their bond — their unique, impenetrable bond — drew them to each other more than it already had? What if it made them realize they were it for each other, soulmates forged in pain, in trauma no one but the two of them could comprehend?

They'd both suffered under Lucifer. They'd both lost a child. They understood each other better than anyone could ever understand them; understood each other's grief, struggle to sleep at night.

It would only be natural for them to fall for each other.

You'd loved Rowena for years, but you couldn't measure up to Sam. You couldn't protect her. Couldn't comfort her the way she deserved. Couldn't understand the pain she was going through daily, even now, years after her horrid death at Lucifer's hands.

Sam could. He knew exactly what it was like. He could give her advice on how to deal with it, teach her to cope.

All you ever did was hug her, tell her you loved her, and hope for the best.

It wasn't enough. You weren't enough.

"Nothing," Rowena said. "I've done nothing. This isn't—"

"I-I'm sorry," Sam said. "I don't know what came over me. I didn't… I didn't mean to..."

"What, shove your tongue down her throat?" you snapped.

"No, that's not—"

You cut him off sharply. "I have eyes, Sam!"

"There was no tongue," Rowena said.

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

Tears spilled down your face, defying your containment. A part of you always knew something like this would happen. Rowena was too big of a person, too grand, too powerful to settle for a lowly witch such as yourself. It was only a matter of time before she decided she'd had enough and moved on to someone better.

You were an idiot to think it would last forever.

Rowena sighed, then, sucking in a deep breath, looked you in the eyes. "Nothing happened, Y/N. I promise."

There was sincerity in her tone. Honesty. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe nothing had happened.

But…

"I know what I saw," you said.

He'd kissed her. He'd held her, and looked at her, and kissed her, and he'd meant it. She'd pushed him away, but that didn't change the fact that his lips captured hers in a way they shouldn't have. Not while you were dating her. Not while she was your girlfriend.

"She's telling you the truth," Sam said. You whipped a glare at him, and he held his hands up in a placating matter. "I misunderstood the situation and I kissed her, but she — she pushed me away. She didn't do anything. It's on me. I swear."

You scowled. Looked from him to Rowena, back and forth as his words settled in.

"Is that a habit for you, kissing other people's girlfriends?" you spat bitterly. "I've heard rumors about your unconventional dating history, but holy shit!"

Sam ignored the remark. "It was an acc—"

"Oh, don't bullshit me!" you snapped.

"Y/N—" Rowena tried.

You held up a hand. "No! He doesn't get to bullshit his way out of this."

Talking to her, giving her assurance in the middle of the night when she couldn't fall asleep was one thing. You didn't like it, but you knew it was necessary. Rowena needed a friend. Needed someone who knew what she was going through, who could comfort her in ways you couldn't. Needed a good, loyal friend.

She didn't need another lover.

"Darling, please," she said softly, placatingly. "Calm down."

You stared at her, incredulous. "Why are you defending him? Did you want to kiss him?"

"Would I have pushed him away if I did?"

"You tell me."

She sighed, frustrated. "Goodness, lass! Are you hearing yourself?"

"Am I supposed to be okay with my girlfriend making out with her best friend?"

"We were not making out!"

"We weren't," Sam confirmed. "She was there. She was nice to me, a-and I just… I don't know why I did it."

"You did it because you wanted to!" you screamed, and, as your anger flared, so did your magic. Without you even having to shout out an Abi, a force knocked Sam backwards and slammed him into the wall.

If he didn't want to kiss her, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't have laid his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with lust in his eyes. Wouldn't have tried to make excuses.

You should have known it would lead to this. Their bond was strong; it was only a matter of time before one of them caught feelings. Intense friendships like that didn't stay friendships for long.

To think you used to encourage it. Despite your unease at Rowena spending time with the man fated to kill her, you'd encouraged her to talk to him. Encouraged her to open up, to be herself with the one person in the whole wide world who knew what it was like to live with that kind of trauma.

And for what? For him to try to take her from you?

"Y/N!" Rowena exclaimed, startled by your outburst. "Calm down, love. It's okay."

"None of this is okay!" you yelled.

The cupboards and closets shook as your magic pulsated, wild, unstable. Drawers rattled. Lights flickered.

"You have a right to be upset," Rowena said, taking a careful step toward you. Two. Three. Her eyes trailed the trembling furniture before settling back on you. "But you need to calm down, darling. You don't want to do something you'll regret."

You wanted to do plenty of things you would regret, needed to do them, the urge so strong it hurt to resist it, but she was right. You needed to calm down.

For your sake. For Rowena's.

It had been an eventful day. Draining. A rollercoaster of emotions. You had no issue with hurting Sam, no issue with killing him for you'd already wanted to do so earlier, but it didn't take a genius to know harming a hunter in his own home, with his aggressive, overprotective brother and an angelic friend inside.

It would be suicide.

A part of you didn't care, though. A part of you wanted to hurt him. Wanted to make him pay for wanting to take away the one person you'd had left in your life. Sam had lost Jack, but he still had a family. He had Dean, and Castiel, and Eileen, and Jody, and Donna.

You, on the other hand, only had Rowena.

No matter what he was feeling, how caught up in the moment he was, he had no right to try to take her from you.

"What the hell's going on here?" Dean demanded, running toward you with Castiel in tow. His eyes fell on Sam, grimacing on the flood, cheeks streak with tears, then shifted to Rowena, and finally to you. "What happened?"

His tone was more an order than a question. He demanded an answer, and he would get it.

A childish part of you wanted to counter him just to be difficult. Instead, you said, "You raised Sam, right? Should've taught him not to touch things that aren't his."

"What are you talking about?" Another demand, no less firm than the first.

You brushed the tears clouding your eyes. Cursed the new ones that instantly replaced them. "Ask him."

Settling one final flare upon the younger Winchester, you turned on your heel and walked out. You couldn't stay here anymore. Couldn't stay in this room, in this Bunker. Couldn't breathe any more of this stale air.

You felt your magic subside, a raging storm fading into a warm summer breeze. You could have killed him for what he'd done, what he'd tried to do. Should have killed him.

If it were anyone else, you would have.

You hoped you wouldn't come to regret it.

*****

Well, that certainly was, as people today tended to say, a shiteshow.

Rowena breathed in, deep and hard. Her racing heart slowed, muscles sprung free from the tension. This certainly wasn't the maddest thing you'd caught her doing, but it was bloody near the top.

She knew how uneasy you were about Sam. Knew you disapproved of their friendship, of them being anywhere near each other ever since you'd found out he was fated to kill her. You wanted her safe, away from danger, but you didn't complain. You knew she needed someone like Sam in her life, and you didn't want to try to take him away from her.

Only to walk in on him kissing her.

Rowena couldn't blame you for your reaction. It was extreme, yes, but so was the situation. It wasn't every day that you walked in on your girlfriend's best friend kissing her.

She would have been angry, as well. She would have caused an even worse scene.

"Sam are you okay?" Castiel asked.

"I'm fine," Sam said, rising back to his feet.

Dean's eyes whipped around from him to Rowena, confused, angry. He eyed the shifted furniture, the drawers that had fallen open as slivers of your magic roamed the room. "What the hell happened?"

It was a long story, one Rowena wasn't willing to tell. Not now, after everything. She sighed. "I'm afraid we are going to have to cut our visit short."

Castiel tilted his head. "Why?"

Sam's eyes, uncertain, hurt, shifted to Rowena. She instantly looked away, avoiding his stare. She wasn't going to talk about it. Not now. The two of them needed to talk, needed to settle this mess his so-called misunderstanding had gotten them into, but Rowena needed to sort it out with you, first.

The last thing she wanted was for you to think she wanted Sam to kiss her. She cared about him, she did, but you were the one she loved. You were the one who'd taught her it was okay to love, that it wasn't a weakness. That she was still capable of it.

That she still deserved to be loved.

She would be an idiot to throw it all away for a hunter.

She felt for Sam; it wasn't easy to lose a child. It was only natural for him to seek comfort in her. But not like this. The two of them would never be anything more than friends.

"Rowena—" he started, but she put her hand up, cutting whatever it was he wanted to say off. She didn't want to hear it. Not now.

"We'll talk later," she said in a tone that left no room for argument. She shot him a look that said as much, softer than a glare but still intense. Still clear that, as much as she understood his vulnerability, she wasn't happy with what he'd done.

Her heels clicked as she stormed down the hallway, eyes flying wildly and up to the library to pick up her bag. The Bunker was unusually quiet, damp air colder, atmosphere gloomier than earlier. Rowena spotted her glass, undisturbed where she'd left it earlier, refilled it, and gulped the contents down.

Some liquid courage wouldn't hurt.

She found you outside, leaning on the railing, eyes glued to the road.

"There you are!"

You didn't look at her, didn't move a single muscle. Instead, you simply said, "The cab'll be here soon."

The coldness of your tone stung like a slap to the face. She was certain a slap would hurt less. "You called a taxi already?"

You shrugged. "Figured you'll either come, or you won't."

"Well, I'm here."

"Good for you."

Rowena supposed she should have seen that coming. She walked up to the railing and lowered her bag to the ground. "Y/N, we should talk."

"Maybe," you said, feigning nonchalance. Voice breaking at the edges for, no matter how hard you tried, you could never hide your emotions from her. You weren't that good a liar.

"I really didn't want Sam to kiss me," she said. Poured all her honesty, all her emotions, raw and pulsating, into those words. She wanted you to know she meant it. Needed you to believe it, to believe her.

She loved you with all her heart, in ways she'd never loved anyone before.

Losing Fergus' father had turned her heart cold and cruel.

Losing you would kill her.

She would never do anything to risk it. Would never do anything — would never dare — to hurt you to the point you wanted to leave. Not on purpose. She hoped you knew her enough to know that.

You said nothing. Did nothing, made not a single movement. Your eyes remained glued to the road as if you were in a trance.

Rowena's heart sank. It broke her to see you like that. You had every right to be upset, to be angry, but it hurt to be treated to nothing but silence. She would prefer to be yelled at, to be insulted and cursed at out loud, to nothingness.

"We were just talking," she said when the silence got too long, too much to handle. Too suffocating to breathe. "About Jack. About what we've lost. I suppose he took it the wrong way." Wasn't that an understatement of the century? Sam owed her an explanation, and she hoped he had a good one. As hurt as he was, he had no right to do this to her. No right to cause trouble in the first meaningful relationship she'd had in centuries. "I pushed him away. You saw that."

Your lip trembled; finally, a reaction. A tear slid down your cheek. "It wasn't… pleasant to walk in on that." You spat the last word out like filth.

Rowena gave a nod. It certainly was not; far from it. If it had been her, there would have been far more damage than some half-opened drawers. You'd handled it well, for a witch. For a girlfriend as protective as yourself.

"Would you be chill if it was you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but, with a snort, Rowena said, "Hell no."

"Exactly." You breathed in and out, pondering on the situation, on the words to come. Squinted against the blinding sun. When you spoke up, your voice was trembling like a bridge amidst a hurricane, "I just figured it was gonna happen, sooner or later."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Sam." You sniffled as tears drenched your face like a downpour. "I can't give you what you need. Not like he can."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I can't understand you like he can," you said with a whimper. "I can't make you better. But he can. You've been doing so much better ever since you started talking to him."

Rowena stared as if you'd suddenly grown a second head. Baffled. Dumbfounded to her core. You'd been there for her since day one. Even back when she was an evil witch who didn't give a damn about you, you were at her side. Not once had you given up on her. Not once had you turned your back on her. All she knew about love and kindness, you'd helped her rediscover. You'd helped her reawaken those parts of her she'd thought were long gone.

To think she would throw it all away for a hunter…

Sam had been an immense help. He'd been there for her when she was at her worst, at her most vulnerable. She'd come to care about him in ways she never thought she would. Had come to call him a close friend.

But that was all he was — a friend.

You, on the other hand, were the love of her life. Sam Winchester could never measure up to that.

"Sam is my friend," Rowena said, looking you straight in the eyes. Making sure she got her point across, loud and clear. "It's true he's been a tremendous help, but he's nothing more than a friend." She grabbed one of your hands. Squeezed it so hard her knuckles flashed white. "He is not you."

No matter what he did, how good he treated her, he would never be you. Not even close.

"You're my wee lamb," she told you. A small smile bloomed on your mouth, and she grinned, victorious. "My lovely lass. My darling. My—"

"Okay, I get it," you said, chuckling. "You love me."

"I bloody do."

"I love you, too."

Oh, she knew. She'd known since the very start.

"I just… I don't wanna lose you," you admitted.

"You won't," Rowena assured you. "I'm hard to misplace, love."

"I don't know. You are kinda small."

She pouted, feigning offense. "Mean."

You laughed. Then, face growing serious, said, "I don't want you to be alone with Sam anymore. It's not that I don't trust you — I do. But I don't trust him."

"Okay," Rowena said.

She usually would have fought such a demand. She was an independent woman, tough, strong willed. Nobody's little plaything. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, with whoever she wanted, no permission needed. No permission wanted. But, despite every single nerve in her, every cell, every fraction of her being, wanting to rebel, she understood why you were asking that of her.

Sam had crossed the line. You'd trusted him with her, and he'd broken that trust. Had crushed it in a way neither you nor Rowena had expected.

It may have been a moment of weakness, a moment of sheer vulnerability, but that didn't make it right.

"I will sort this out, darling," Rowena promised.

"Okay," you said with a small nod. "You do that. Because if I…" You swallowed, hard. "If he tries anything again…"

You would do more than just throw him into a wall.

The implication was clear. The threat lingering around the words left unsaid.

"He won't." Rowena swore it on her life.

Sam was a smart man; he could be reasoned with. He knew what he'd done was wrong.

He would be a bampot to try anything similar again.

As much as Rowena cared about him, she cared about you more. You came first. That much had to be clear to him.

Your hand captured in hers squeezed back, Fingers twined in an unbreakable knot. You gave her a smile, one of those bright, genuine ones that always made her heart jump. "You're my girl."

"You know it, dear," Rowena said, loud and proud. Ready to shout it to the moon and back.

She leaned against you, lowered her head on your shoulder. You pressed a soft kiss to her scalp and wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. Never wanting to let her leave.

She had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

You were stuck with her, for as long as you wanted to be. For as long as this cruel, cruel universe allowed it.

Hopefully forever.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @hellbentredhead @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @mintymarshmellows @midnight-lestrange @osterhagen @impala-1979 @gracib16 @feelsandotps

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn family #spn #supernatural #rowena x reader #rowena macleod x reader #my fics #fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel

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ofmermaidsandmarauders · 3 years

Text

stolen dreams took our childish days chapter 4

Read on AO3 or FFN

March 2020

Fergus was playing in the yard when he heard the yelling. He was allowed to play outside when Jamie was home and cooking dinner because the man could watch him from the kitchen windows. He had seen Claire’s car pull up a few minutes ago and was surprised by the noise inside. His body tensed when he heard the smashing of glass. It was only then that Fergus realized it wasn’t the excited kind of yelling that the couple usually did. No, this was angry. He sank to the ground, clutching his knees to his chest. He just knew that at one point they would crack.

____________________________________________________

“You can’t just make these decisions without me, Jamie Fraser! I am your wife. That means your partner!” “Aye, I ken fine well what ye are, Sassenach. And I am entitled to purchasing what I damn well please wi’ my salary. You canna tell me what I can and canna buy!” Jamie knew that his argument was weak, but he was refusing to back down as he had just been trying to do something nice.

In hindsight, Jamie should have consulted with Claire before renting a beach house for an upcoming weekend. He knew that she would likely have it off work and thought it would be a fun way for them to celebrate the upcoming holiday. It would be the last one before Fergus had to finish out the school year with no breaks. He thought the lad would enjoy the open air and sand beneath his toes. He also thought Claire would enjoy the break, but he was apparently wrong.

“You better be fucking joking! I know you don’t truly believe that you don’t have to consult me on this type of spending! We have bills to pay, Fergus is going to need summer clothes, your car is up for inspection soon! Jesus Christ, sometimes I think you truly are daft!” Claire’s words spat out at him, dripping with vitriol.

“Daft? Daft? I’m just trying to make sure the lad has some good memories! Excuse me for tryin’ tae give him some fun! You’re always fecking workin’! I thought it would be a nice time for us to bond but I guess no’!” Jamie froze as the accusation came out of his mouth. Claire worked hard and that was something he had never pushed her on. In fact, Jamie wanted Claire to work. She was a skilled surgeon, and he knew that it was her passion. She was made to heal others. It was the reason he agreed to take on fewer responsibilities at work; he wanted Claire to have the career and family she dreamed of. “Sassenach, ye ken I didna mean what I said.”

“No, just… No.” Claire held up her hand, stopping him from apologizing. She left the kitchen without another word, shutting and locking the bedroom door. Taking some space from Jamie would be good. They had both said harsh things that they didn’t mean, but it didn’t make the words hurt any less. In fact, it hurt more knowing it was said with that exact intention in mind.

____________________________________________________

Jamie looked around the kitchen trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. One minute he was surprising Claire with a relaxing long weekend away with their foster son, the next they were screaming at one another and she was storming out.

He knew he needed to find a way to apologize. He would respect her request for space and then deal with things later. For now, he had a child to feed. Jamie checked on the chicken that was roasting in the oven before grabbing the glass he had been drinking from. He peered around the kitchen before sneaking over to the liquor cabinet, refilling his tumbler. As he went to shut and lock it once again, the glass slipped from his hand and shattered against the white tile.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, the shards flying everywhere. Glancing at his arm, Jamie felt a sting and recognized that one of them must have pierced his skin, the whiskey causing it to burn more than it should have. He set about cleaning up the mess before taking a peek out of the window to see Fergus pressing his curled body against the trunk of the tree. Finding it odd, Jamie excused the behavior as the oven’s timer dinged. He could ask questions later.

Calling the young boy in for dinner, Jamie went to the bedroom and let Claire know their food was ready. He gathered a plate for himself and Fergus, allowing Claire to prepare her own if she chose to join them.

____________________________________________________

Fergus appeared timid as he climbed into his seat, looking between Jamie and the hallway. When Claire came out a short time later, her face clean and hair washed from a recent shower, Fergus noted that her eyes were glassy. He had seen that with his own mother on plenty of occasions. A fresh shower to hide her tears and remove any traces of scratches or odd marks.

His eyes slowly raked over Claire’s body, inspecting her for any cuts or abrasions. He didn’t see any, but she had put on a sweater and some pajama shorts. She could be hiding them beneath her sleeves.

The couple was silent as they ate, directing any questions at Fergus. He answered them easily, though it felt like he was on edge the entire time he ate. His stomach was twisted into knots and he was afraid that he was going to throw up if he forced himself to consume much more.

After a few minutes of tension, Jamie’s face lit up as if he had suddenly remembered something.

“I saw ye outside earlier, by the tree? Was everythin’ alright?” Fergus was trying to remember the moment that Jamie was talking about, but it quickly dawned on him that it was when Claire and Jamie had been arguing, and he had gripped onto the nearest thing. It was something one of the counselors taught him to do when he felt his body start to get nervous: lean against the nearest wall or door, close his eyes, and focus on his breathing. He wished that they gave him ideas that actually helped.

“Oh, I was just playing a game,” Fergus answered lamely, not sure that Jamie would believe the lie. Jamie studied his face for a moment, but didn’t push him on the excuse.

“Fergus, what’s the matter, lad? You gobbled up yer afternoon snack, I expected ye to devour yer meal,” Jamie commented with an arched eyebrow. Fergus peered down at his plate for a moment before spearing a piece of chicken onto his fork.

“I guess I’m just not that hungry. Sorry, Jamie,” he apologized, forcing himself to chew and swallow the small piece on his utensil.

“No need to apologize, lad. Jus’ finish what ye can and we can wrap up the rest.” Dinner was silent after that, Fergus’ ability to eat diminishing with each moment that Jamie and Claire ignored one another. He slunk away from the table toward his bedroom once he was finished, pausing in the hallway to eavesdrop on the adults. He couldn’t hear their exact words, but he knew they were arguing back and forth again. He lost track of how long he was standing in the hallway, their voices muffled by the walls and their movements. It got suddenly silent and he froze. Fergus could feel his pulse throbbing in his ears, heart pounding. He wasn’t sure how to make himself calm down. His breathing came faster as he heard a clattering and bolted toward the kitchen once more. Fergus knew that sound; it was a common occurrence when Adam launched something at his mother.

“Don’t touch her!” he screamed, launching himself at Jamie, his tiny fists curled up and pounding into Jamie’s back before he even knew what was happening.

____________________________________________________

“Are we going to discuss the issue at hand?” Claire asked Jamie coldly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You ken fine well what ye’re doing, Sassenach. Crossing yer arms over yer chest in that way!” he accused, jabbing his index finger in her direction. She gave a glance down at her chest, a smirk appearing on her lips as she stepped closer to him.

“And what about it? Afraid I’ll convince you to cancel your major rental with my womanly ways?”

“Aye, and I damn well willna be canceling the rental! ‘Tis two months away and that is plenty of time tae get everything in order tae go on a trip!” Jamie was becoming flustered and took a deep breath before placing both of his hands on her upper arms. The only way this was going to get better was if he took the opportunity to apologize. “I hope ye know how verra sorry I am, mo chridhe. I wanted to do something kind. I apologize for what I said earlier. I was sore, ye ken?”

“Aye,” Claire teased as she leaned her forehead into his neck. “I’m sorry, too, Jamie. I didn’t mean what I said. I know you just wanted to give us a nice surprise. It’s a very sweet gesture.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to discuss it wi’ ye before making any grand gestures.” Jamie wrapped his arms around Claire’s waist, lifting her onto the table. Her foot caught around one of the legs of the chair and knocked it to the ground as he leaned forward to give her a kiss. Her lips moved in time with his own, hands settling against his large shoulder blades. Jamie suddenly stopped kissing her, confusion on his features.

“Wh-?” Claire’s question trailed off as she watched Fergus burst into the room. His cheeks were splotchy and his eyes were welled up as he began to punch his fists into Jamie’s thigh and back.

“Whoa!” Jamie exclaimed, grabbing Fergus’ arms to get him to stop hitting him. “What in the devil?!”

“Don’t you dare hit Claire!” Fergus screamed, trying to wrench his body away from Jamie’s. Claire sat on the table, stunned by his outburst. Jamie let out a soft chuckle at first, then let go of Fergus when the boy finally stopped jerking himself around.

“Did ye think I was hurting Claire? Och, no. Only kissin’ my wife,” Jamie explained, letting Fergus look at Claire for confirmation, at which she nodded.

“I knocked over the chair with my foot, that’s all. Jamie would never hurt me.” Claire hopped off of the table to right the chair before taking a seat in it, pulling Fergus close to her. She let him gather his thoughts before lifting him into her lap. “We did fight, yes, but we would never lay a hand on one another other than out of kindness and love. I need you to understand that, Fergus.”

He nodded solemnly, resting one hand on Claire’s arm, the other holding onto her hand. Jamie squatted so that he would be level with Fergus, his knees creaking as he bent.

“I hope ye ken I wouldna ever lay a hand on Claire out of anger or pain. Nor would I lay a hand on ye, lad. ‘Tis important that ye ken I care for ye as my own and wouldna want to see ye in pain.” His words were soft and he lifted a large hand to smooth back Fergus’ curls from his face. The boy looked calmer now and gulped before allowing himself to speak.

“C-can I have a glass of water?” he asked quietly, now feeling silly for his reaction. Jamie noted his expression but nodded, getting him the water as requested.

“I hope ye feel safe here, Fergus. I canna imagine how scared ye were and what ye have seen before,” Jamie spoke soothingly, letting his hands rest on Fergus’ skinny legs. “Claire and I just want to see ye safe and happy.”

“Oh,” Fergus exhaled, his eyes welling up with tears again. “Adam used to… he would fight with my mama and I would hear yelling and banging. I could never stop him.” His shoulders shook as he began to weep, leaning against Claire for comfort.

She looked at Jamie frantically, though her arms automatically wound around his small frame. She had no experience with children and was only hoping that she was doing this right.

“It’s alright, hush now. You have no need to be scared of us. We’re going to keep you safe,” she whispered before remembering she was not supposed to make promises she couldn’t keep. For a moment she felt guilty before another thought popped into her head. Fuck that. Holding Fergus in her arms, his body shaking with fear and tears, Claire knew she would go to the ends of the Earth to protect this small boy from any person or thing that threatened to harm him.

Her own eyelids brimmed with tears as she felt a fierce need to keep him safe and see his tears end. Giving a quick look at Jamie, Claire saw that he had a wide grin on his face. It was the same look he had worn when she graduated with her medical degree and could begin practicing medicine at the hospital. That was his “proud” smile, he had told her later that night when she commented on it. She couldn’t help but smile back at him for a brief moment when she realized that he was smiling like that because he was proud of her maternal instincts.

“It will all be alright. He canna hurt ye anymore,” Jamie whispered before pressing a kiss to both Fergus’ and Claire’s hair. He knew how Claire felt because he felt it as well. He would do anything to protect this little family they had built together.

#outlander fic #ol fic #jamie x claire #foster care fic #my writing

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eydika · 4 years

Text

eydika’s name list 2.0

more... names because the first name list I made isn’t enough anymore

Abaddon

Abbey / Abbie

Abel

Ace

Ada

Adam

Adrien

Agnes

Aiden

Akari

Alaska

Alchemy

Alec / Alex / Alexa

Alessi / Alessia

Alexis

Aliana / Alianna

Alice

Alison

Alistair

Alivia

Allie / Ally

Alpha

Alya

Amber

Amelia

Amity

Amos

Amy

Andie / Andy

Andrew

Andromeda

Angel

Anita

Anna / Anne

Annabelle / Annie

Apollo

Apple

Apricot

April

Archer / Archie

Arden

Ares

Argus

Ariel

Aron / Aaron / Auron

Arrow

Artemis

Arthur

Artis

Arya

Ash / Asher

Aspen / Aspyn

Astrid

Athena

Atlas

Atticus

Aubrey / Audrey

Audio

Auger

Auggie

August

Aurelia

Aurora

Austin

Autumn

Ava / Avaline / Avalon / Aveline

Avery / Avrey

Aya

Baby

Barbie

Basil

Bea / Bee

Bean

Beatrice / Beatriz

Bébé

Beck / Beckett

Beetle

Bella / Belle

Beryl

Betty

Bijou

Billie

Birdie

Bishop

Bitter

Blair / Blaire

Blaise

Bloom

Blue / Blu

Boheme

Bonnie

Bowie

Briar

Bridget

Brina

Brody

Bryson

Bunny

Byron

Cade / Cadea / Caden

Cairo

Cal / Calum

Caleb

Callie

Calliope

Calvin

Cameron

Candace

Canopy

Carly / Carlie

Carol / Caroline

Carter

Casper

Cassandra

Cassius

Catherine

Celia

Cetus

Chance

Charlotte

Cherry

China

Chip

Chloe

Cian

Cinnamon

Civet

Clara / Clary / Clarabelle

Claire

Clementine

Cleo

Clover

Cobalt

Colby

Colt / Colten

Constance

Cooper

Cora

Corey

Corvus

Cosmo

Cricket

Cynthia

Cyra

Cyrus

Dacre

Daisy

Dakota

Dalia

Dallas

Damien

Dana

Dandelion

Dandy

Dante

Daphne

Darby / Darcy

Darius

Darla

Davina / Divina

Davos

Dawn

Deacon

Deb

December

Deja

Delaney

Delta

Demi

Denim

Denver

Desmond

Dexter

Diego

Digit

Dion / Dior

Doe

Domino

Donna

Doran

Dorothy / Dot / Dottie

Douglas

Dune

Dusk

Dylan

Eachan

Ebele

Ebony

Echo

Eden

Edris

Effi / Effie

Egan

Elijah

Eliza

Ella / Ellie

Elliot

Ellis

Elodie

Elsbeth / Elspeth

Elsie

Elyse

Embla

Emily

Emlyn

Emma

Emmett

Emory

Erica

Erin

Ernest

Ernie

Esryn

Estelle

Ethan

Eugene

Eva / Eve / Evie

Evan

Evangeline

Fae / Fee

Faith

Fawn

Fawke

Felix

Fenris

Fergus

Ferris

Fig / Figgy

Finbar

Fizz

Fletcher

Fleur

Flint

Flora / Florence

Forrest

Fox

Frankie

Freya

Gage

Gaia

Gavin

Gemma

Gene / Genesis / Genevieve

Gigi

Gil

Giselle

Gladys

Gloom

Gloria / Glory

Goldie

Grace / Gracie

Greta

Griffin

Gus

Hadley

Hailey

Hana

Harlow

Harmony

Harper

Hawk

Hayden

Hazel

Hector

Henley

Henry

Hera / Hero

Honey / Honeydew

Hope

Hunter

Ian / Ion

Idris

Ieni

Iesha

Illori

Ilya

Imelda

Imogen

Imp

India

Indira

Ingrid

Irina

Iris

Isaac

Isara

Isla

Ivory / Ivy

Izzy

Jack / Jackie

Jade

Jake

Janice / Janis

Jason

Jasper

Jay / Joy

Jenan

Jericho

Jerry

Jibo

Jill

Jinx

Joan

Jude / Judith

Juleka

Juli / Julip

June / Juno

Juniper

Jupiter

Justice

Kaiven

Kale

Kappa

Kayla

Kellen

Kelly

Kes

Kimber

Kitana

Kitty

Kiwi

Knox

Kris

Kristy / Kirsty

Krull

Kumo

Laken

Lana

Lapse

Lark

Laurel

Lavender

Lemon

Lenka

Leo / Leon / Leonie

Levitt

Liberty

Lilac

Lilith

Lima

Lindsey

Locus / Lotus

Lottie

Luca / Luka

Lucia / Lucie / Lucy

Lucille

Lucky

Luis

Luna / Louna

Luther

Lux

Lynn

Mabel / Mable / Maple

Madison

Mae / May

Maeve

Magnolia

Mango

Mantis

March

Marcia / Marcy

Margaux / Margo / Margot

Marina

Marion

Marley

Marmalade

Mars

Martha

Mary

Mason

Maude

Maura

Maxine

Maya

Meadow

Medea

Melancholia

Melba

Memphis

Mercedes

Mercy

Mick

Milan

Milla

Millenia

Milo

Mina / Mona

Minerva

Minnie

Minnow

Miron

Misery

Mona

Monday

Montgomery

Monty

Morrigan

Morwenna

Myrtle

Nana

Nancy

Nasira

Nate

Nathaniel

Naveed

Navy

Ned

Nefarian

Ness

Nestor

Never

Newt

Nikki

Noah

Nora

Norma

Nova

Nutmeg

Nye

Nyx

Octa

October

Odessa

Olive / Olivia

Ollie

Omega

Omen

Onyx

Opal

Ophelia

Oriana / Orion

Oscar / Oskar

Otis

Owen

Ozzy / Ozzie

Paige

Paisley

Parker

Pat / Pattie

Paula / Paola

Pea / Peach

Pebble

Penelope

Pepper

Pepsi

Percy

Petrichor

Philippa

Philomena

Phoebe

Phoenix

Piccolo

Pip / Piper

Pixie

Poe

Pollux

Pomeline

Poppy

Portia

Primrose

Queen

Quentin

Quibble

Quincy

Quinn

Rachel

Radian

Ransom

Raven

Ray

Razzia

Rebus / Remus

Reverie

Rhubarb

Rick

Rider / Ryder

Rigby

Rilla

Roach

Robin

Rory

Rosa / Rosalie

Rose

Roux

Rowan

Roxanne / Roxie / Roxy

Ruben

Ruby

Rune

Sabina / Sabine / Sabrina

Sable

Sadie

Saffron

Sage / Saige

Salem

Sam / Samantha / Sammie

Savant

Savian

Scarlett

Scotty

Scout

Sean

Sesame

Shea

Skye / Skylar

Sloane

Solomon

Spencer

Sprout

Star

Stella

Sunny

Sybil

Syc

Symphony

Tabea

Tabitha / Tabs

Tali / Talia

Tasha

Tate

Tau

Temper

Tharan

Theodora / Theodosia

Theros

Thimble

Thirteen

Thorn

Tia

Tilda

Tina

Topaz

Tora / Torian

Trinity

Trixie

Trope

Tulip

Turnip

Twig

Ukiyo

Umara

Umbra

Ursa

Valentin

Valerie

Valora

Vargas

Vaughn

Vector

Vega / Vegas

Velvet

Venus

Vera

Vernon

Vesper

Vinette

Violet

Vivek

Volt

Waverly

Wednesday

Wendy

Wes

Whisper

William

Willow

Winnie

Winona

Winter

Wish

Wren

X + Y + Z

Xena / Xenia

Xeno / Xenos

Yuki

Yuri

Zafira

Zaria

Zephyr

Zero

Zoe / Zoelle

Zona

Zyra

LAST NAMES

Abbot

Abernathy

Alton

Arcanum

Ashe

Astor

Badger

Balker

Bass

Bennett

Benton

Blake

Bleu

Blunt

Blythe

Cable

Cabot

Cain

Carter

Carver

Castillo

Choi

Clemonte

Coldwell

Collins

Colt

Craft

Craven

Crimson

Croft

Dabney

Danvers

Dayholt

Delpy

Driver

Dyer

Eades

Edge

Epithet

Epps

Evert

Farley

Fell

Fenner

Fig

Finch

Findlay

Fletcher

Foley

Fowler

Fray

Freud

Frost

Geller

Gill

Guest

Hale

Hapley

Harp

Hart

Hearst

Hooper

Hunt

Hyde

Ivy

Jinx

Keller

Kersey

Kingsley

Knight

Knox

Kraft

Krav

Laveau

Lecter

Lock / Lockwood

Lowell

Lush

Marr

Mills

Mist

Morgan

Morrison

Murray

Myers

Oaks

Patel

Pierce

Pike

Powell

Price

Pruitt

Quint

Quiver

Random

Ripley

Ryder

Sears

Sloane

Sparks

Stele

Strom

Sutton

Talbot

Tate

Thorne

Twig

Twist

Tycho

Utley

Valentine

Vance

Vaughn

Vos

Walker

Wallow

Weaver

Webb

Wiley

Wilkes

Winston

Wreath

Wright

Wrong

York

Zella

Zepeda

#text #list #names #reference #inspo

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governmentofficial · 3 years

Note

Ⓐ for either adam or fergus

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours:

FERGUS

ATTRACTIVENESS:

repulsive �� hideous ― ugly ― not attractive ― unappealing ― not unattractive ― meh ― no preference ― ok ― mildly attractive ― nice looking ― cute ― adorable ― attractive ― pleasant on the eyes ― good looking ― hot ― sexy ― beautiful ― gorgeous ― hot damn ― would tap that ― perfect ― godlike ― holy fuck there are no words

PERSONALITY:

grating ― irritating ― frustrating ― boring ― confusing at best ― awkward ― unreasonable ― psychotic ― disturbing ― interesting ― engaging ― affectionate ― aggressive ― ambitious ― anxious ― artistic ― bad-tempered ― bossy ― charismatic ― appealing ― unappealing ― creative ― courageous ― dependable ― unreliable ― unpredictable ― predictable ― devious ― dim ― extroverted ― introverted ― egotistical ― gregarious ― fabulous ― impulsive ― intelligent ― sympathetic ― talkative ― up beat ― peaceful ― calming ― badass ― flexible

HOW LIKELY THEY WOULD BE TO HAVE SEX WITH THEM:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending ― fuck no! ― never ― no way ― not likely ― not sure ― indifferent ― i’m asexual ― maybe ― probably ― it depends ― fairly likely ― likely ― yeah sure ― yes ― would tap that ― hell yes ― fuck yes! ― wishing that could happen right now ― as many times as possible ― we are already having sex

LEVEL OF FRIENDSHIP:

never in a million years ― worst of enemies ― enemies ― rivals ― indifferent ― neutral ― acquaintance ― friendly toward each other ― casual friends ― friends ― good friends ― best friends ― fuck buddies ― bosom buddies ― practically the same person ― would die for them ― true friends ― my only friend

FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM:

i hate them so much ― i don’t like them ― i don’t trust them ― they annoy me ― they’re weird ― i’m indifferent ― meh ― they seem alright ― they’re growing on me ― truce ― i think i like them ― i like them ― i’m not sure if i trust them ― i trust them ― they’re cool ― they’re genuine ― i think we’re going to get along ― i really like them ― i think i’m in love ― oh fuck they’re hot ― i love them

CURRENT IMPRESSION OF THEM:

HOW GOOD OF A KISSER:

worst kisser ever ― terrible ― bad ― awkward ― just okay ― alright ― pretty good ― good ― makes me moan ― excellent ― exciting ― oh god they’re good ― i dream about it ― fucking amazing ― absolute perfection ― we haven’t kissed

#libdemdisaster

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dylankeoghs · 3 years

Text

just burnt my hand because i was thinking about adam and fergus i really wish i was joking right now

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casmick-consequences · 3 years

Text

i wish i were mick. he put his full pussy out there and succesfully flirted with cas in front of dean. he gave him his number and cas took it. in front of the bisexual disaster himself. that’s big dick energy.

#mick davies #i WISH i was him so the angel could fuck me too #shhhh dont tell #casmick #mickstiel #adam fergus #castiel #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #just love him a lot #:)

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vergildovigor · 3 years

Photo

⠀⠀⠀🌹 ⊹ 𝑽𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑙 𝑻𝘩𝑖𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑛 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝐃𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐈 ⋆

𝟤𝟨 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝖬𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝖢𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗇𝖾𝗌'𝗌 𝗈𝗐𝗇𝖾𝗋 & 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁.

PARA SABER MAIS SOBRE MEUS OUTROS CHARS: 🎩 KENDALL (john darling) | 👑 FINNEGAN (rei fergus) | 💖 SCARLETT (rainha de copas) | 🔮 NARCISA (kahlan)

INSPIRAÇÕES: Romeu (R&J - 1996), Kili (The Hobbit), Tristan (Tristan & Isolde), Alex Hitchens (Hitch), Tom Hansen (500 Days of Summer).

CONEXÕES:

O1 - ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU THIS WAY: Muse foi o primeiro beijo dele na infância e também uma das influências românticas de hoje em dia. Eles podem ou não serem amigos, por isso não significa que os chars devam se amar ou coisa do tipo, só foi uma pessoa que fez ele amadurecer mesmo!

O2 - A DREAM IS A WISH: Renard foi a pessoa que incentivou ele a criar a Magic Collognes e desde então tem sido bastante parceiro dele.

O3 - NO ONE DOES IT BETTER: Assim como psicólogos também se consultam com psicólogos, Vergil teria um amigo conselheiro pra ele e Mabel é a própria. A mulher não sabe que ele é conselheiro amoroso, mas aconselharia ele amorosamente, ironicamente.

O4 - CONQUER THE LOVE: Um cliente que esteja se consultando com ele a troco de conquistar a atenção de alguma pessoa, porém Vergil não faz ideia das intenções de Muse.

O5 - WHAT’S FATE: Muse é uma pessoa que ele já aconselhou e deu muito errado, então agora eles estão em maus termos.

O6 - RUNAWAY BEFORE I KNOW: Vergil tem um admirador secreto dele que envia e-mails e presentinhos, mas não é um sentimento de verdade. Na realidade, Muse acha que está mandando isso tudo para outra pessoa e ambos não fazem ideia de que é um engano.

O7 - TOGETHER WE STAND: Amanda é uma pessoa tão old school quanto ele e por isso acertaram de ficar se enviando cartinhas, mesmo que se vejam diariamente na cidade. Contudo, o conteúdo das cartas é só deles falando coisas que pessoalmente não tem coragem de dizer e também aleatoriedades. É um bom jeito de se abrirem, sem necessariamente terem que passar vergonha.

ANTES DA MALDIÇÃO:

Foi um garoto que trabalhava na cozinha do palácio dos Dubois quando era criança e que mostrou-se corajoso o suficiente para arriscar a própria vida para salvar alguns nobres de um ataque, vivendo como refém na sequência para que cooperasse e expusesse o paradeiro da realeza, dentre eles: Anastasia -- o qual ele se negou expor. Mais tarde foi liberado e anos depois tornou-se um contrabandista que não pensava em ninguém mais além de si mesmo e o ganho próprio.

Após Adam, seu antigo melhor amigo de infância, retornar para o castelo, a avó de Anastasia jogou uma recompensa para quem achasse a neta. Com a recompensa altíssima para achar a tal princesa perdida, Dimitri não hesitou em aceitar e partiu em busca de alguém que fosse parecida o suficiente com a mesma para que pudesse pegar o dinheiro e fugir -- já que não acreditava em um lugar chamado “casa” para ficar. Contudo, após achar a verdadeira princesa, apegou-se à ela e no final das contas acabou arriscando, novamente, a própria vida para recompensar os erros cometidos na jornada, tornando-se mais benevolente com a vivência com Anastasia e derrotando Rasputin no processo.

DEPOIS DA MALDIÇÃO:

Era um garoto pobre que vivia com seu tio Valter, o qual lhe adotou pouco depois de tirá-lo da rua. Seus pais tinham falecido há alguns anos, a mãe tendo problemas no parto e escolhendo assim mesmo tê-lo e o pai falecido meses depois do anúncio da gravidez. Como nunca os conheceu de verdade, nunca teve uma visão do que era ter uma família feliz, por isso trabalhou conforme os anos com a idealização do amor em todas as formas.

Quando seu tio faleceu depois de viajarem a passeio, Vergil voltou para Storybrooke sozinho e guardou, por um bom tempo, uma depressão que não parecia ter fim. Contudo, buscou nas pessoas um meio de remediar sua carência, o que o levou em tenra idade a noivar de uma mulher, que tempos depois acabou por se separarem, nem chegando a casar. Mas Vergil nunca desistiu do amor por mais que sempre tivesse um pouco do sonho destruído.

Aos poucos teve a vida reconstruída com ajuda de alguns amigos (vilões) dentro de Storybrooke, que o incentivaram e lhe deram suporte, por isso Gil tornou-se pouco a pouco um tanto mais ambicioso do que antes -- mas com sorte não mudará sua índole por isso.

MAGIC COLLOGNES:

A loja de perfumes conta com toda variedade de aromas e ainda permite que os clientes façam suas misturas em um local reservado para fragrâncias. Maioria dos produtos são excêntricos e fornecidos por vendedores de fora e também retirados da própria floresta, mas não é Vergil que consegue tais essências pra produzir na loja... A verdade é que por trás de toda produção, algumas fragrâncias causam sensações estranhas e muitas levam os indivíduos a realizarem feitios que não são de sua índole, mas é impossível não usar dos produtos da Magic Colognes, pois ela é a única loja na cidade que tem maior variedade de opções.

CURIOSIDADES:

É alguém que se apaixona rápido pelas pessoas, mas normalmente precisa de um tempo para superar quando esse amor passa.

Vergil sempre quebra a cara na maioria das vezes que se apega a alguém, mas nunca é capaz de nutrir sentimentos ruins pela pessoa mesmo que ela tenha sido de má influência para ele. O máximo que pode guardar é um pouco de rancor, mas transformar isso em outra coisa.

Aprendeu a mexer com fragrâncias e essas coisas com seu tio, tanto que era por isso que eles viajavam tanto para fora de Storybrooke. Agora, seu fornecedor de excentricidades é um npc que “vive fora da cidade”, o que, claro, é apenas uma mentira que a maldição lhe fez crer.

O tio Valter é inspirado no Vladmir, que é o aliado e companheiro dele na vida passada. Ele no caso não faleceu de verdade, claro, mas em suas memórias ficou perdida a realidade dos fatos. Na história adaptada dele, Lefou é Vladmir, pois foi assim que acabou conectado com Gerard/Gaston tanto em Storybrooke por influência do próprio vilão, como anteriormente na Floresta Encantada, com a ajuda de Lefou.

Vergil começou com a ideia de ajudar os outros amorosamente após suas incontáveis decepções. Não quer dizer, no entanto, que ele seja profissional nisso, ele simplesmente repassa informações e dicas para quem está passando por alguma situação que ele já viveu, mas todo dia é uma descoberta diferente pra ele. A sorte é que hoje em dia ele sabe seus limites e tenta imaginar os limites alheios também, por isso que na maioria das vezes dá muito certo.

tba.

#⋅ 🌹 ABOUT ━ ❛ 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙞'𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞'𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙨𝙚𝙚. ❜ ⋅#postando as coisinhas dos chars novos aos poucos!!!#tô aproveitando pra att os abouts de todos os chars e os themes tbm então as replies vão ficar pra mais tarde

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alisoncooper · 3 years

Note

Fergus Williams

why i like them: gay, no brain cells, and pretty

why i don’t: lib dem wanker

favourite episode: either 4x01 or 4x03.

favourite season: I think season 4 is the default here

favourite line: omg ok his rant at terri where he keeps referencing musicals and i’m also fond of his little rant after the email leak where he says “i’ve got a twitch called terri!” and also, this isn’t a quote but his gay little run in 4x03 makes me howl every time

favourite outfit: i guess just any suit he wears???

OTP: adam obvs lmao

Brotp: see the above

headcanon: ace as hell actually. it’s Decided. thanks @harrybloodystyles for that one!!

unpopular opinion: idk if it’s really a popular opinion but i like him more than i probably should. like i’m Very attached to both fergus and adam in a way that i’m not attached to any of the other characters. i Love Garbage.

a wish: he realises being a lib dem is fucking Awful (would never happen but yknow)

an oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen: please don’t ever become the leader of the party because you are just Terrible. just absolutely God Awful.

5 words to best describe them: useless, self-serving, power-hungry, and Hot

my nickname for them: i don’t really have one but i now want to start calling him fergie for no other reason that, if he were real, he’d fucking Hate it

send me a character!!

#Anonymous #i love him im sorry #effie answers

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breaking-up-with-cockles · 3 years

Text

I just watched Darius’ movie Sound of Metal and it is simply breathtaking. Watch it! So with that along with Misha bringing up his Berlin trip with him and Jensen, Adam, and Jared, I revisited Darius’ Berlin home movie of them. One of my favorite parts is the very beginning when Adam is introducing the Misha Collins and Adam Fergus Mix Group. It’s a tiny moment but I love it.

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I mean Misha is barely paying attention to Adam being hilarious and Darius behind the camera. He's looking to someone off camera flirtily wagging his finger at them, playfully performing for them. Is there any doubt who the lucky person is? I wish we could see how Jensen was responding to his adorable bf.

#misha is so cute #gawd i miss them like this

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sablelab · 4 years

Text

Covert Operations - Chapter 113

SYNOPSIS: After Dr Foster’s professional opinion Madeline observes both of the patients in Medical to see their conditions for herself. Meanwhile Fergus is beginning to have second thoughts about the validly of what Murtagh has planned and Colum Mackenzie pays an unannounced visit to Section One which displeases Operations.

Chapter 112 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU. I really appreciate your support for this story of intrigue and skulduggery at Section One and how it affects Jamie and Claire. Sending best wishes for a peaceful and safe Easter at home this year.

CHAPTER 113 Madeline looked over to where Claire was asleep hooked up to monitors and equipment. She walked slowly over with Dr Foster close behind her and stood at the bottom of her bed watching for any sign that she would awaken. Meticulously studying the sleeping patient her eyes lingered for a while on Claire's bruised jaw and split bottom lip. The doctor observed Madeline’s face for some sign of emotion, any small hint of empathy for what Claire Beauchamp had suffered at the hands of the triad … but there was nothing. Madeline's expression remained one of detached interest. In response to her apparent indifference, Jeremy Foster felt compelled to give Claire some more time before Section’s head strategist felt the need to interrogate her. With bravado he dared to test the waters.

“Claire needs her rest. She’s not in any fit state for prolonged conversation at the moment and is certainly not coherent yet for a ‘Question and Answer’ session. She’ll be more lucid by the morning once all of the drugs have gone through her system.” Madeline was fully aware of the doctor’s stalling tactics, but quietly applauded his audacity and concern for his patient. “Is that so?” “Yes, in my professional opinion … it is.” Madeline gave a wry smile which the physician could not see. She knew he was on edge with her visit to Med-Lab, but that was of little concern to her. However, this one time she would abide by his opinion … there was plenty of time to interrogate Claire and Jamie. Today she wished only to see how they were faring. Her non answer of a muttered “Hmmm?” gave Jeremy Foster no indication of what this stoic woman was really thinking. He waited beside her on tenterhooks. This conversation could go any way. He may just have raised her ire one too many times and was pushing his luck, but he stood by what he believed was best for his patient. The physician glanced at Madeline for a hint of her mindset … but she remained aloof. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire had dozed off again since Murtagh and Fergus had visited her, but on hearing voices in the room her eyes fluttered and slowly opened. Tilting back her head she looked up to find two people standing at the end of her bed, one a man and the other a woman. Recognising Dr Foster, Claire’s eyes followed him as he walked closer to her bed. He gently touched her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Claire … you have a visitor.” She turned her head to look at the woman standing at the foot of her bed. Frowning Claire focused on the woman's face gazing down at her. She blinked several times and it was not long before the familiar expressionless face of Section’s second in command came into focus. Then she spoke. “Hello Claire.” Shifting restlessly on the bed, she tried to sit up. “Madeline.” “How are you?” She felt a little intimidated by the scrutiny of Madeline’s gaze. Although her words seemed sincere, Claire still felt the sting of the hidden message because of her leader’s tone of voice. She felt as if her injuries were an imposition to the Section and the Rising Dragons’ mission.

“Groggy … I can’t seem to stay awake,” she replied trying to sit up more comfortably in the bed. As she did so, she screwed up her facial muscles in discomfort as a jolt of pain suddenly caught her in the ribs. Noticing her distress, Dr Foster asked, “Do you need some more pain relief?” Claire was thankful for his concern. She looked at him. “No … I’ll be fine.” “I can see you’ve been through a tough time Claire,” Madeline added silently observing the patient. “Yes.” “But you're okay?” “I'm fine.”

“We’re glad that you are back safely. Operations and I can’t wait to hear your debrief about the mission and rescue.” She looked at Claire before uttering her next request. “I hope you are up to some questioning tomorrow.” “Of course.” “Get some rest then. There is someone else I need to see now.” “Thank you.” She looked at Claire a moment longer, before nodding to Dr Foster her intentions of visiting with Jamie in ICU next. When Madeline’s back was turned, he smiled reassuringly at his patient and patted her hand before exiting her room. Claire watched them leave then closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them to stare up at the ceiling. Her mind was centred on just one person … Jamie. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Madeline made her way to James Fraser’s room with Dr Foster close on her heels. All that he had discussed with her earlier was plainly evident. Like Claire he too was hooked up to all types of medical equipment monitoring his vital signs. Still dressed in his white operation gown, Jamie’s face was ashen. His shoulder was heavily bandaged and Madeline could see the evidence of his torture sessions etched on his face as well. He had deep circles under his eyes and he looked like he had taken a solid beating. Jamie’s arms rested above the covers and two intravenous drips were attached to his arm. One held his blood, while the other a solution of nutrients, glucose and pain medication. An oxygen tube was also attached to his nostrils to aid his breathing. Judging by his condition Madeline was resolved to the fact that he may indeed need more time than she or Operations had anticipated for his recovery. Madeline could feel Dr Foster breathing down her neck with an “I told you so…” and realising that she would need to study his suggestions for their recovery closely after all. Approaching Jamie’s bed Madeline stood beside it. Without looking at Dr Foster she asked, “How is he doing?” “Better than any of us expected.” Noticing that Jamie was hooked up to an IV bag of plasma, she watched as the precious fluid slowly dripped down the tube into his vein. “That’s good. I see he is still being transfused.” “Jamie has received several litres of plasma and so far, he’s responded well to treatment. As you know, it takes several iron infusions to bring the body’s iron levels up to the appropriate levels. Although he may look anaemic, I can assure you that he is 100% better than he was.” “Excellent. Then his blood supplies are adequate?” She asked as a point of reference.

“At the moment, yes … However, this is the last unit of blood that he needs, however, I won’t remove the cannula from his hand just in case. I don’t think there is a need for more but as I have already stated … it is still a waiting game. We need to remain vigilant that’s why Jamie will be in ICU for a few days.”

“Have there been any side effects?”

“He has had some headaches, nausea and vomiting. Jamie’s blood pressure is still a little high and he has an increased heart rate which we are monitoring closely. Though, these should resolve in a day or two.”

“Then there is a good chance that he will recover sooner than expected?” “It’s possible ... but you already know my thoughts on both of their rehabilitation. I have outlined my professional recommendations in my report. Recovery takes time Madeline and you will need to allow enough of it for both of them or else there is the possibility of a relapse, particularly in Jamie’s situation. I’m not being presumptuous, but I would hasten to suggest that you and Operations deliberate carefully as to your plans for Jamie and Claire before you send them back into the field.” If looks could kill, he would be a dead man, but Madeline said nothing. Dr Foster hoped that he had presented his case as best he could … the rest was up to Section’s leaders. He only hoped that his superior was not infuriated by his unrelenting persistence, after all he only had his patients’ best interests at heart. “I assume that you will let me know of any changes in either Jamie or Claire’s conditions?” She uttered pragmatically. “You have my word.” Giving him her enigmatic, emotionless look, she then gave him one final order. “Now, I’d like to speak with Jamie … alone.” Jeremy Foster knew exactly what she was suggesting by her look and tone of voice. “But of course,” he replied taking his leave to finish his rounds. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Madeline was smarting a little from Dr Foster’s audacity to be so bold with her. Such insubordination would have resulted in cancellation and she was very tempted to place him in abeyance for his brashness. However, he might just have a valid point. Jamie and Claire certainly had been through much for the Section. However, she was also faced with a conundrum. They would need to tread carefully before she and Operations made any decision about their rehabilitation. They could not appear to be overly lenient, but on the other hand they needed to be reasonable. Jamie and Claire would need some recovery time.... and having it together made good sense. She had already had some discussion with Operations on this very point, but she would need to compromise on the amount of time Operations would be willing to give them. He was adamant that Jamie and Claire were needed back on the Rising Dragons’ mission A.S.A.P. However, after seeing the two operatives, she knew that too little time could be decremental, but too much could also backfire. They didn’t want to give Jamie and Claire time to strengthen their relationship ties … but they did need them to be up to optimum performance. There was much at stake and wise decisions would need to be made that would be the most beneficial to capturing the last members of the Rising Dragons’ triad. Looking at the sleeping patient on the bed, Madeline gripped Jamie’s wrist and placed her thumb over his vein feeling for his pulse. She looked over at the heart rate monitor at his bedside and watched the machine beep as she counted the pulse beats. His pulse was normal … that was a good sign. She leaned forward and examined him in repose. It was hard to believe that the man before her was actually mortal. James Fraser was obviously vulnerable at the moment due to his injuries and Section needed him to be up and running so that they could achieve the end game required for this mission. Hence the sooner he recovered the better. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Feeling a hand on his wrist, Jamie slowly opened his eyes to see Madeline leaning over him. He was a little startled to see her but was able to control his reaction to her intense scrutiny. He felt listless and when he tried to sit up, he jarred his shoulder. A sharp pain shot through him and he winced in agony. Knowing that Madeline was examining his every move, he did his best to suppress how he felt. He bit the inside of his lip to stop the groan escaping, but her eyes certainly captured the pain in his eyes. “Madeline?” He was dry in the mouth and his voice was raspy. “Hello Jamie.” “How long did I sleep?” “A couple of hours. Are you alright?” He was self-deprecating in his slow response. “Aye. Everything's fine. Just … need a little more ... rest.” He uttered with his slow response. “How are you feeling?” Jamie thought for a moment. He really felt terrible but that was not the answer he could give Madeline. Instead he replied, “Okay, I guess.” “Good. Operations and I are glad you pulled through the surgery.” “Thank ye.” “Rough mission?” “Not great.” Jamie tried to sit up a little more but found it increasingly difficult especially with his sore shoulder and all of the equipment attached to his body. He looked at Madeline. “Where's Operations? I need to debrief.” “There will be time for that later. Right now, you need to rest.” “Thank ye.” Despite what he’d been through, Section’s aloof Jamie was back on his game. His 'thank you' was unemotional and dispassionate, but Madeline expected nothing less of their Level five operative. He had not asked a thing about Claire’s wellbeing, though dare say he wanted to … but just not from her. He had also not complained about his own situation, yet she could see that it was an effort for him to sit up comfortably. He was obviously in great pain. Madeline studied Jamie for a moment longer and he too gazed at her with little emotion. When he said nothing further, she realized their conversation had gone as far as it could this time. When he was better, they would reassess his relationship with Claire and what was good for the mission’s success. Right now, though, she had Dr Foster’s report to read. She also needed to confer with Operations. Once they had studied all the data, they would need to make a decision as to how they would proceed with their two operatives and the Rising Dragons' mission. In parting she added decisively. “I’ll speak with you again soon.” Jamie watched Madeline leave the ICU, then closed his eyes briefly, before opening them to stare up at the ceiling. His mind was centred on just one person … his Claire. His Sassenach. Meanwhile …

After leaving his friend, Fergus hurriedly made his way to his station with an escalating nervous tension coursing through his body. Heading off in the direction of Systems he hoped that he could find out if Operations was in the Perch or if indeed the “gods of fate” had smiled on them and he was not there. In his haste to make it back as quickly as possible, he walked down the hallway with a determined stride knowing that if Operations was occupied in his office then he and Murtagh would have time to make a search for Jamie’s personal details. A wry smile crossed Fergus’s face at the thought of his good friend.

If it weren’t for Murtagh and his machinations he probably would lead a very dull, boring and uninteresting life inside Section One. Murtagh Fitzgibbons certainly found plenty of trouble to get them into and now this was another harebrained scheme his friend had initiated. However, the closer Fergus got to Systems, the more his inner demons began to materialize and cloud his better judgement. As he hurried along, he was beginning to have second thoughts. Fergus became a little jumpy at the thought of the task that lay ahead, while in his mind he built up a plethora of scenarios of “what ifs”. Although he knew that Murtagh would be as cool as a cucumber, doubt about the usefulness of their planned escapade kept creeping into his brain and Fergus found it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

If anything went wrong then all hell would break loose. He and Murtagh would be in abeyance before you could blink an eye. How could they explain away why they were in a restricted area and answer the inevitable questions as to why they were there and on whose authority? Fergus swallowed nervously doubting if they really were doing the right thing and for the right reasons. He began to question why he got roped into situations he'd rather not know about.

He really should stick with his computers; they gave him all the challenges he needed. he thought. Not only that but, Dr Foster had not said that they needed more blood for Jamie … it was really Murtagh’s idea to go and search for Jamie’s data purely for altruistic motives. He thought it would be a bargaining tool they could use against Madeline and Operations if and when it may be useful. However, they might go to a lot of trouble to search for Jamie’s Intel and it could all be for naught … especially if they were caught.

Fergus shuddered at that idea. His head suddenly lowered and his step was not as assured as before, then, as he rounded the corner that headed into the common area, he slammed headlong into the very person he thought was preoccupied in Med-Lab … Madeline. “Oh, excuse me … sorry,” he apologized with remorse but some trepidation as well at seeing who it was, he had collided with. Madeline didn’t appear to be all that happy. She gave him a quizzical look as if surprised to see him away from his post. “Fergus?” “Yes?” He replied nervously caught off guard by her appearance. “Is everything alright?” Fergus Claude looked at Madeline hoping that she was unable to read the expressions that he knew were on his face. His eyes darted up to hers before he lowered them because he found it difficult to remain unaffected in her presence. She had a way with making him feel uneasy and the fact that he and Murtagh were planning to do something they shouldn’t made him feel guilty.

Madeline was supposed to be checking up on Jamie and Claire. How had she managed to be finished so soon? Obviously, she had seen enough or the patients weren’t up to being questioned. However, her appearance had now thrown them a curve ball. If Operations and Madeline were both within sight it would be impossible for either Murtagh or he to leave their posts to go and start their search. They would now have to leave it for another time. He would also have to let him know that Madeline was back. He looked up at her once more hoping that Madeline would not see his uneasiness. “Everything's fine,” was his answer. “Where are you going?” “Going?” he asked in a perplexed voice at her question. He tried to reply as nonchalantly as possible, but his voice wavered slightly with surprise at her question. He answered instead with another question which showed that he’d been caught off guard by her sudden appearance. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself somewhat. Anxious to keep the conversation between them short and concise Fergus didn’t want to give Madeline any clues as to why he was away from his post. He just hoped that he was able to appear more composed than he actually felt. “Yes ... going?” Madeline asked looking at him and noticing his reticence. “Are you heading back to Systems?” “Ah? … Yes.” On hearing his reply she ordered. “Would you inform Operations that I’ve returned from Med-Lab and will be in my office?” Her request was succinct. Madeline obviously had things on her mind to make such a demand rather than going directly to his office. “I will … Is that all?” Her eyes flicked over his face, but Fergus stood his ground. “Tell him that I would like to speak with him.” “I will.” Fergus stood and watched as Madeline’s gait quickened as she walked away towards her office. It was then that he noticed the folder she was carrying in her hand. Suddenly it all made sense to him as to why she was not in Med-Lab. The folder must contain the doctor’s reports on Jamie and Claire and she needed time to read them. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Back at his terminal, Fergus cast a glance at the Perch and saw that Operations was indeed there. He sat in front of his computer, staring at a blank screen disillusioned but somewhat relieved as well that he and Murtagh had been thwarted in their plans by mere minutes. But now that Madeline was back, he would need to alert his buddy as to what had just happened. First things first though, he needed to page through to Operations re Madeline’s orders. However, before he could do so his intercom lit up and the sound of his name echoed. “Mr Claudel!” He looked up towards the Perch and saw Section One’s leader staring down into Systems. Judging by the look on his face, Dougal Mackenzie didn’t look too happy either. Something had triggered his ire, but Fergus didn’t think it was the same thing that had been the cause of Madeline’s displeasure. Summoning bravado he answered, “I was just about to page you sir. Madeline wishes to inform you that she has returned from Med-Lab and is in her office.” “I see.” “She wants to speak with you. Would you like me to page her for you?” “No … I’ll do it myself,” was his terse reply. Fergus wondered what it was or who it was that had caused Operations to be in such a mood. He seemed more belligerent that usual. “Very well sir,” he responded. Then it dawned on him. There was usually only one thing that set him off in this frame of mind and that was a certain visitor. Perhaps this may not be the right time for Murtagh and him to go searching where they shouldn’t. It could be too dangerous. Fergus pondered. Once he had severed his connection with Operations, he then set about getting in touch with his friend to alert him to the situation that had unexpectedly come up. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Once he disengaged the connection with Fergus, Operations too contacted Madeline knowing that his second in command was back in her office. It was imperative he speak with her as their nemesis had once again made a surprise visit to Section One.

“Madeline, are you there?” “Yes, what is it?” ‘What are you doing?” “Going over Dr Foster’s report. I’ll need to speak with you about Jamie and Claire too.” “That will have to wait I’m afraid.” “Why?” “We have other matters that need our attention.” A little alarmed at Operations’ words she asked, “What’s happened?” “Can you come up to Committee?” “Committee?” “Yes. My brother Colum is here.” Madeline was a little concerned as to the reason for his visit. Colum Mackenzie always seemed to know when there was some crisis happening at One. Obviously, he’d been told of the injuries to Jamie and Claire and he was here to find out what their contingency plans were for the two operatives and the Rising Dragons’ mission. Trust Colum to turn up now at all times especially when she hadn’t had the opportunity to talk with Operations and discuss Dr Foster’s report or her findings and recommendations about their two operatives. Like Dougal, she was not at all happy with Colum’s unexpected visit to Section One. The one thing she loathed was being unprepared but no doubt the two of them would be able to pull the wool over his eyes like they had done before in the past. Closing Dr Foster’s report Madeline replied. “I'll be right up.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Murtagh had already made his way to their rendezvous place and was pacing back and forth wondering what was taking Fergus so long to get here. Perhaps Operations was in the perch after all and if so, they may have to re-strategize their plans, he thought. Suddenly the personal pager he wore when he left Munitions beeped. He activated the unit and Fergus’s face appeared on the small screen. “Murtagh?” “Hey! Where are you? … I’ve been waiting five minutes and you’re a no show. Is there a problem?” “I think you better get back to your station as soon as possible.” He frowned. “Why? What’s happening?” “I’m not sure but Operations is not happy about something and I ran into Madeline on my way back to Systems.” “What! … She was supposed to be in Medical.” “Yeah … I was as surprised as you.” “That could be a problem. Do you know why Madeline left Medical early?” “No … but she wanted to speak with Operations … and he was in a foul mood as well. I think Colum may have called in unannounced,” he told his friend. “That’s possible … it would certainly explain his frame of mind.” “Yeah ... you’re right.” Suddenly a unexpected opportunity had arisen that may just be what the two friends needed to put their plans into action and Murtagh couldn’t be happier. “Hey Fergus … this could be just what we were looking for,” he added enthusiastically. “Perhaps Madeline and Operations will be occupied for some time after all,” he replied knowing that they needed to seize the moment that had just been given to them with both hands. Fergus felt that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach return at Murtagh’s reply. His buddy was going to give him an ulcer for sure. “Sit tight. I’ll be back soon.” “Okay.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on the 17th April.

#Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclaireau #jamieandclairecrossover #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #the lallybroch library #covert operations #LFNoutlander

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