#i wished this was more heartfelt or longer but i am exhausted | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Every single night, she was tormented by the same nightmare. Every single night, the same memory replayed behind her closed eyelids. She saw that fateful night, the night when she had decided she couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

It was the night before the great battle, and, as always, Levi fell asleep in her bed, curled around her body, holding on to her almost desperately, as though he was afraid that should he let go even for a second, she’d vanish.

Levi thought that his embrace could keep her with him. Hange wished for it to be the truth.

Getting out of the circle of his arms was a considerable effort, he held her too close, too tight, and Hange… Hange didn’t want to leave that sweet embrace. Levi was wrapped around her like a vice, he was a poison ivy that had its twigs engraved so deep it reached to the very depths of her heart.

Hange had to cut it out, to cut him out. And, by gods, was it an unwanted progress.

But after a few moments of quiet struggling, of silent curses and pants, she slipped out from his embrace and their bed. That small victory was well-earned, but not enjoyed. Hange felt her heart break the moment Levi’s arms were no longer around her. Without him, she felt so cold. With every inch she put between them, the ice that began covering her heart continued growing.

Next, she packed her scarce belongings. She wanted to take more, she couldn’t do it. Everything she’d take back home – her uniform with Wings of Freedom splayed proudly on the back, her heavy notebooks with dozens of notes and sketches done by her beloved assistant, that book Erwin had once given her, the scarf Mike had knitted for her, the flower Levi had gifted her, the very same one she treasured just dearly as the memory of him confessing after the gift had been presented, - all of it was going to be looked at and thoroughly analyzed. By her Marleyan comrades, friends and possible prosecutors.

She could take nothing that could be conceived as dubious, but that jacket, the one that was shared by both of them and still held his scent and warmth— she wasn’t strong enough to leave it behind.

So she put it on, praying for it to give her strength.

A long way home was awaiting her.

And Hange couldn’t leave without giving him, the one man she truly loved, a goodbye kiss.

“I know you won’t,” she whispered against his brow, her fingers caressing his hair with a feather light touch, “but please try to forgive me. It was out of my control, Levi.”

It was his fault too. When Levi came, the ground had been kicked from under her feet. And a simple mission turned into a tragedy.

When she gathered enough strength to leave the room, the hallway was empty. Hange knew it would be, she was familiar with the workings of Survey Corps like the back of her hand. She strolled through the well-known hallways without fear, trailing her hand along the walls.

The Military Headquarters back at Liberio was better built than this building. Even Warriors’ barracks, despite being designed to hold Eldians, were built so much better. Those buildings were sturdier, more technologically equipped, much more comfortable.

But, god damn it, she was going to miss Survey Corps’ headquarters, this shitty building that was situated in the middle of nowhere.

Compared to Marley, everything in Paradise was ancient, outdated, useless. But it didn’t stop her from loving that fucked up little island. It didn’t stop her from loving people that were living there, despite them being branded as monsters by her nation.

She turned the corner, took the stairs, and, at the end of it, just near the exit Hange saw a shadow.

She meant to duck behind the corner, to run and hide, but the form of that shadow was all too familiar, and she was just as familiar to that shadow. Hange had no choice but to stop and surrender to another cruel twist of fate.

“Squad Leader!” Moblit ran up to her, smiling and endearing as always.

Fucking hell, and Hange thought that saying goodbye to Levi would be the hardest task. However, Levi, at least, hadn’t been awake.

“Are you nervous, as well?" he asked, curiously peering into her eyes. Was she nervous? That was an understatement. "Personally, I can’t sleep! I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I even wrote a letter to my Momma, do you remember her?”

Of course, Hange remembered Moblit’s Momma, the soft and caring Mrs. Berner, a far kinder woman than Hange’s Momma was.

“I told her about our mission and how proud I am for participating in it. And… I added a second part, the one that would be sent in case…”

“No.” Hange shook her head resolutely, her hands clenching into fists. No, no, no, she refused to even entertain that foul idea. Impulsively, she took a step forward, circling her arms around her sweet assistant. “No, Moblit,” she repeated, voice muffled by his shirt. If he heard the quiet sniffling, Hange didn’t care. Moblit never minded her eccentricities. “You will survive. You will survive this shit and the next one you will undoubtedly face. You will make your Momma and everyone else around you proud.” You will make me proud. “And you will leave a glorious, happy and long life. You promise me?”

“Squad Leader…”

“Promise me!” she demanded, bordering on desperation.

In that moment, the dream always divided from reality.

In reality, Hange waited until he had given her a promise, and then feigned exhaustion, leaving Moblit to use another exit. But in a dream, Moblit made her stay, coercing her to have a cup of tea with him. And in the candle-light lit mass hall, they met Erwin, then Levi joined their impromptu party, gluing himself to her side and blinking sleepily at everyone who had gathered.

In a dream, Hange never left. She stayed under Moblit’s care, was guided by Erwin’s wisdom, was surrounded by Levi’s love.

And that’s why that dream was a cruel, excruciating nightmare. It showed her things that could never be. It showed her the future she desperately wanted to come true. Escaping from the clutches of that fantasy was hard, painful. And if that was complicated….

Well, waking up in that bed was pure agony.

Every single morning, Hange woke up lost and disoriented, and had to spend a few long moments, making sense of it all.

Her first instinct was to stretch her arms, to yawn and reach out – to warmth and comfort, to loving embrace, husky voice and reluctant kiss. To him. To everything she had lost. To everything she never actually had.

But she was alone in that bed.

There was no Levi, lying next to her, complaining about her morning breath. There was no Squad Leader Hange, no four-eyes , who would smile and start singing in Levi’s ear.

There was only she, a broken, empty shell of a person.

A Marleyan who fell for an Eldian. A war chief that devised weapons for her enemies. A fool with twisted loyalties and convoluted goals.

She betrayed her homeland, she didn’t have a home.

She was abandoned by her fellow countrymen, was rejected by the people closest to her.

But, strangely, as pathetic as she was, as miserable and wretched, she was not alone. Even in her sorry state, despite her vile betrayal, she still had a friend.

He was by all means her enemy, a monster and a devil, and yet he saved her life more times than she could count.

Even now, when her lies had been discovered and her villainy uncovered, he remained by her side, continued to care for her.

If all Eldians were truly as monstrous as she had been told since her birth, then how to make sense if the existence of one extremely brave, inexplicably kind Moblit Berner? Hange, as genius as she was, couldn’t understand him, couldn’t explain why someone as good and bright as him had decided to stick with her.

“Good morning!” he walked into her room with a smile, carrying her breakfast on a plate.

He had been repeating the exact same routine every day for the past month. He had been doing this ever since Erwin had appointed him as her assistant.

In that room, that bed, nostalgia, memories and regrets were impossible to escape.

Hange tried telling Moblit that he didn’t have to this, didn't have to care for her as though she was still his comrade. But Moblit was relentless. And she was too lonely and miserable to cut off the only kind soul that remained loyal to her.

“I managed to get your favorite biscuits this morning,” he continued, moving around the room to put the cutlery down on a table and open the curtains to let the sunshine in. “Almost got in a fight with Sasha because of it.”

Despite herself, Hange snickered. Moblit always had that kind of an effect on her. He possessed the uncanny ability to cheer her up with a simple, but heartfelt and caring gesture.

There was only one other person who was better at it than him. But after everything that happened between them… the hell would freeze sooner than she would hear praise and a comforting word from him.

Waving those sullen thoughts away, Hange stretched her arms and rose from the bed. She followed the sweet aroma of biscuits to the table Moblit had set for her.

“Any updates on Gabi and Falco?”

That was the first question she asked every morning. And every morning, Moblit gave her the same disappointing answer.

“I’m sorry,” he ducked his head solemnly. “We didn’t manage to locate them yet.

Hange expected as much. And yet, the lack of news still troubled her. Where were fierce Gabi and adorable Falco? Were they—

She shook her head, pressing lips together. Of course, they were still alive. They were candidates, the best of all best. Mentally repeating that mantra a couple of times, she forced her mind flow into different direction.

“What’s our plan for today?” she asked through a mouthful of biscuits. “Are we going to work on a new uniform again?”

Working on that project was fun. Having Mobllit as her assistant once again was fun. In the moments, when her brain was too occupied with an idea, she could almost pretend that everything was normal. That she was Squad Leader Hange, working with Executive Officer Moblit on a new project. Sometimes, Hange got so lost in that little game inside her head, she even expected for the door to burst open to let a grumpy Captain inside. But, of course, that couldn't happen.

These distant memories, they were comforting. They reminded her of the rare times in her life when she was truly happy. But the past... was in the past.

“Eh, you see…” Moblit raised a hand to his head, scratching the back of it with an apologizing smile. “Armin asked me to look into something. I was actually wondering if you would like to accompany me. I bet you’re getting sick of spending days in these four walls.”

She was starting to feel like a wilting flower, that was true. It would have been nice to go outside. However…

“Am I even allowed to leave this room?”

Moblit winced. “I’m not really sure about it… But I was assigned to look after you. I think it wouldn’t hurt if you go with me. Besides…” he sat on the chair next to her, looking at her almost pleadingly. Oh, Moblit and his perfect puppy eyes, Hange could never resist them. “I’d like to have your company. And, perhaps, your advice as well…”

“Advice?” Hange frowned. “On what? What is your task about exactly?”

“Don’t know if I can tell you,” nevertheless, Moblit leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But they found out that one of the volunteers, Yelena, has been conspiring with Eren. They asked me to interrogate the other volunteer.”

“Oh?” that sounded both ominous and intriguing. Hange curled her lips into a grin and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to use my interrogating skills?”

“No!” paling slightly, Moblit frantically lifted his hands, shaking them from side to side. “No reaping out nails, please! No threats of bloody violence! Just… talk with him.”

She almost forgot how easy it was to tease and embarrass Moblit. Oh, how Hange missed him.

“Alright, I’ll do my best to control the violent urges,” she winked at him, laughing at his scandalous face. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s been ages since I saw the world outside that room.”

“There is another thing I have to ask of you...” Moblit cast his eyes down, playing with the sleeve of his coat. “Technically, I’ll be representing Survey Corps, so…”

Oh. Hange shifted her gaze to the wardrobe, where her old uniform was still hanging. That feeling inside her, she couldn’t quite identify it. Was it shame? Or trepidation?

She showed nothing of it to Moblit. As their eyes met, she faced him with an easy smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I do wonder if that thing still fits me.”

“It is. It always will.”

The remark was short, it could be read as meaningless. But Moblit’s voice was deep and gravely, full of conviction. Hange tilted her head, stealing a moment to study him more closely. He looked back at her, his hazel eyes honest and kind.

A lump in her throat was thick enough to make it hard to breathe. It brought tears to her eyes. Hange closed them tightly, to keep the tears from falling down.

“I need a moment,” she murmured, facing away from Moblit, “I’ll be ready in five.”

“I’ll be waiting in the hallway,” he said and let her be.

___

Walking through the streets of Sina was both pleasant and excruciating.

Feeling the sun on her cheeks and the wind in her hair after so many days of being confined to a one single room was enjoyable, enough to put a smile on her lips. And Sina, so very different from Liberio, was a lovely city with interesting architecture and narrow clean streets.

But these places were too familiar, the alleyways etched into her mind too deeply. And the uniform… the long green coat fitted her too well, and, at the same time, suffocated her. The shiny Wings of Freedom were burning her even through the clothes.

This proud emblem, it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t worthy of wearing it.

And the looks people had been given her, the awe and pride— fuck, Hange would rather prefer they cursed and flanged stones at her.

“Their smiles make me uncomfortable,” Moblit confessed. “They used to throw shit at us after every expedition. But now that Eren has killed a bunch of people, they suddenly decide that we’re heroes.”

“You always have been heroes.”

You, not we. There was nothing heroic inside of her.

“Remember that tavern?” Moblit’s cheerful voice and excited expression didn’t chase away the shadows completely. But the shadows took a step back, frightened by his light. “We had a glorious fight with MPs there.”

The fond memory brought laughter to her lips. “You almost got your arm broken in that fight.”

Moblit chuckled along with her. “Thanks to you I didn’t. I thought that punch of yours would get that guy obliterated.”

Hange touched her knuckles tenderly. Moblit was right, that was one hell of a punch. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel how the force of the hit had reverberated through her skin, tendons, muscles and down to the bones. Perhaps, that time, she had overdone it. She always had troubles reining in her anger.

“And remember that guy Captain Levi kicked? I see him around from time to time. Because of his broken jaw, he still has trouble speaking clearly.”

Ah, Hange remembered that guy as well. He was red-headed and had an ugly moustache. He also left a nasty bruise on her cheek. Levi’s kick to his jaw was a payback for that.

“Those were the times, huh?” Moblit nudged her, offering a kind smile.

Hange averted her eyes, feeling her lips quiver. Yeah, those were the times. Distant times, now they seemed more like a dream. A dream Hange wouldn’t want to wake up from.

Sensing her discomfort, Moblit steered them to the side, taking their conversation in another direction as well. “Speaking of Captain Levi, I sent him the new uniform. He wrote back that he liked it.”

The uniform she accidentally created with Levi’s size in mind. It was in no way intentional. She thought of Survey Corps’ soldiers when she was making a design. And in her mind, the perfect example of the scout was Levi. She was surprised she still remembered his size. Although, considering how much time she had dedicated to studying his body…

The new uniform was a sudden project, a product of the abundance of free time on her part. She wasn’t going to show it to anyone. Even Moblit found out about it by pure accident, when he stumbled upon her crude drawings. She was surprised he liked it. She was surprised Levi liked it. Did he really, though?

“He actually wrote so?”

“Well, he wrote that it could be useful, and in his words…”

Oh. As high praise as one could get from Levi.

“You write to him?” truthfully, that was another surprise for Hange. She didn’t remember Moblit and Levi have any sort of relationships, especially this close.

“We talk a lot,” Moblit shrugged, looking anywhere but at Hange. She was starting to wonder why, but his next words quickly unveiled the mystery. “Technically, we’re the only adults in Survey Corps, and after you left, we… found that we have a lot in common.”

Well. At least, her betrayal had one good outcome. It gave birth to a new friendship. And destroyed several old ones. Hange winced at the last thought.

“Oh, look where are we!” Moblit once again pulled her out of the abyss with his clear, loud voice. The wonder, added to it, however, seemed a little bit too faked. As smart and sharp as he was, Moblit could never excel at lying and pretending.

Not like she did.

Forcing these thoughts away, Hange followed the direction Moblit was pointing at. She couldn’t help but smile at what came into her sights.

Sina��s pastries. The best bakery in the city. In Hange’s humble opinion, the best bakery in the whole damn world. The one they had back at home, on the corner of the street in Liberio, right next to her apartment, didn’t even compare.

Just looking at the sign made her mouth fill with saliva.

“Moblit,” she grasped at his sleeve, her hold desperate. Her eyes were still trained on that shiny sign made in cursive. “Moblit, I know I’m asking a lot—”

He grinned. “Want me to get you that cherry pie you loved so much?”

Oh god, yes. Right now, Hange wanted it more than anything else.

“I understand it if you can’t. I mean, I’m a prisoner from a foreign country. Isn’t buying pies considered to be treason in this case?”

Moblit chuckled warmly. He looked at her, and his expression was kind and gentle enough to make the saints weep. He curled his hand around her shoulder, and from the place where he touched her, warmth spread through her body. “I wouldn’t mind committing treason for a friend.”

Fuck. Hange felt it once again. Her heart squeezing painfully, her throat constricting, tears welling in her eyes. She had to shut her lids to keep them from falling down her cheeks.

Her eyes still closed, with her voice cracking, she asked, “Would it be weird if I give you a hug right now?”

“Don’t know. Is it weird that I really want that hug?”

Her sob turning into a giggle, Hange surged forward, falling right in Moblit’s waiting arms. He pressed her close, his palm patting her on the back. Hange buried her face in his chest and relaxed against him, inhaling his faint scent of citrus and cinnamon. Sweet and pleasant, just like Moblit.

What was she doing all that time, without him at her side?

Moblit smiled at her as they separated. Hange meant to smile back, but in that exact moment— her stomach gurgled. Loudly.

She cringed.

“So… about that pie?”

“I’m on it,” Moblit promised and darted to the bakery.

___

Perhaps, it was fate. It was destiny, divine intervention, that led her to this moment. To the wooden bench in the park, to the bird’s singing in her ear, to the sweet, heavenly taste in her mouth.

The pie was perfect, so much better than Hange had remembered. It was soft enough to melt in her mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. It was sweet, but not sugary, the cherry toping adding slight bitterness.

Fantastic, the pie was fantastic. If Hange could, she’d stay in that bakery until the end of her days, devouring those phenomenal pastries until she exploded. Ah, what a happy death that would be…

Moblit observed her with an amused grin. “Did they not feed you at all in your Marley?”

“Not like this.” Hange managed, despite her full mouth.

Food in Marley was more diverse than on Paradise. They had more resources, they had a bigger variety of products and ingredients. But Hange was a soldier. She either ate at barracks or she cooked for herself at home. Food, made by army cooks, was nourishing, but lacking in flavor. And the dinners, prepared by her, almost always consisted of something quick and extremely simple.

The only place where Hange could eat to her heart’s content, where food was made out of the best, freshest ingredients and prepared by the most skillful chefs, was the official events, organized by the brass. And as the leader of the research facility, one of the most recognized war chief and the only child of her father, one of the Marleyan’s biggest heroes, Hange was always a welcome guest on these events.

But they were so boring that not even a promise of good food could make her sit until the end of them.

“Well, wait until you try Niccolo’s food. He is a true master.”

“Already did,” her stomach once again gurgled, this time the embarrassing sound was provoked by the memory of Sasha and Connie treating her to some of the maestro’s masterpieces. Sasha certainly was a lucky girl. “I ate so much, I thought I was gonna puke.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” bashfully, Moblit rubbed his neck. “The first time he made food for us, I was eating like the man starved. I was so ashamed, but then I looked around,” he chuckled lowly, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “And realized I wasn’t the only one.”

“I see you had a lot of fun,” she said, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t one of them, and never was. The suddenly appeared sadness was foolish and unwelcome. She had her own friends back home. Perhaps, they still thought about her. Perhaps, they still cared. “And what about that guy you need to interrogate? Is he also an amazing cook?”

“No, he is a soldier, he taught us so much about your technology! He was the one who was in charge of controlling the airship we used to get to Liberio.”

So their new friend was a pilot? And, apparently, a skillful one at that. Navigating through Liberio during all that chaos was certainly a challenge. Hange wondered if she knew him.

“So what is the name of that ace pilot of yours?”

Moblit lifted his chin, something close to pride appearing in his gaze. "He really is amazing. His name is Onyakopon."

Hange's jaw dropped. Her precious pie almost dropped as well. Hadn't she misheard? Onyakopon? The same Onyakopon who had spent almost a year as her understudy? Who taught Hange how to pilot the plane? That Onyakopon?

Could it really be? Could they really meet here, after so many years, on Paradis of all the places? Or was it some other Onyakopon who also happened to be an ace pilot?

"Hange-san?" a worried crease lay between Moblit's eyebrows. "Are the two of you—"

"Don't know," she shrugged, promptly finishing the last of her pie. "Shall we go and find that out?"

Moblit nodded resolutely. Hange felt something like nostalgia stirring up inside her.

___

For a man who was supposedly under a close watch and a possible suspect, Onyakopon had the nicest of accommodations. Much better than Hange's single room.

The house was small, but cozy, surrounded by pretty garden and vast green fields. If one were to ignore the lonely guard who was munching on an apple in the shadow of the tree, the front yard possessed absolutely no flaws.

Hange immediately shared her observation with Moblit, telling it to him in a faint whisper.

"Let's hope Onyakopon isn't a traitor and we won't end up dragging him from this heavenly place," he answered her.

If their Onyakopon was the same Onyakopon Hange knew, they wouldn't need to take the drastic measures. He was a smart, honest and good man. And, judging by Moblit's set expression, he knew that too.

As they approached the house, a man came in their sights. Dark-skinned, tall and handsome, he was reading a book on the porch, a look of complete concentration on his face.

All doubt left her mind. It was the same Onyakopon. The bright, curious young man who wanted to learn from her and who taught her something in return.

At the sound of their footsteps, Onyankopon looked up. And recognized her too, from just one glance. As their eyes met, his grew in size, almost comically. So he didn't know she was there as well. Strange, Hange would have thought he overheard the commotion she had caused on their trip back to Paradis.

But, perhaps, Onyakopon was too focused on piloting the airship and keeping all of them alive.

"Hange?" his voice was no louder than the wind's song. Hange nodded swiftly, having troubles finding her own voice. She wasn't sure it would obey her. "Oh I'll be damned!" Onyakopon jumped to his feet and all but ran to her. He squeezed her elbows, peering into her face in disbelief. "I'll be damned, Hange! I've heard the talks about some Marleyan soldier, but I could never guess that it was you! No one told me that you were captured."

Well, captured might be a strong word to describe what happened to her. Levi didn't capture her, he simply caught her - unaware and unprepared. Hange saw the face that was haunting her dreams and didn't even think of fighting against him.

She thought that Levi came to kill her then. She was almost ready for him to do it, to finish it once and for all. Being killed by the humanity's strongest - was there a greater honor? Being killed by the man you loved so dearly - was there a bigger joy?

Gently, Hange pried Onyakopon's hands off her. "It's a very long story."

"I have—"

"You don't," Moblit took a step forward, partially hiding Hange behind his back. "We need to talk, Onyakopon. I'm sure you've already guessed why."

"Yeah. Your friend here," Onyankopon threw an accusing glare at his guardian who was enjoying the afternoon shade, not disturbed by their conversation. "Already warned me. Alright," he let out a defeated sigh, "Do you guys want tea or coffee? Maybe, some snacks?"

Moblit gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've already eaten, thank you."

"I— I'll bring some tea anyway."

He disappeared inside the house without another word. Hange and Moblit watched him go, then, when he vanished from their sight, they shared a look.

"He doesn't seem nervous," Hange remarked.

Moblit seemed to be of the same opinion. "He looks rather disappointed. I really hope he is innocent. But..." he shook his head and mumbled, more to himself than Hange, "I was always bad at figuring out liars."

Ouch. If after everything she had been through, Hange still possessed a heart, Moblit's words would have dealt a fatal blow.

Alas... She felt but a small pang. It didn't make her wheeze with pain, only forced to cast her eyes down.

___

Onyakopon returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with three cups on it. Jerking his head into its direction, he led them to a table on the backyard.

Once they all took their places, heavy silence hanged over them. Onyakopon was the one to break it.

"So, no offence," he tilted his head to the side, his gaze slowly switching between Hange and Moblit. "If this is the official business, then… why Hange is here?"

"It's a long story," Hange said at the same time as Moblit claimed,

"Hange and I have been working together before."

"Wait..." a frown appeared on Onyakopon's face. It was almost immediately taken over by the look of shock. "Are you telling me that the famed Marleyan spy I've been hearing so much about, the one who spent five years on Paradis and almost became the Commander of Survey Corps, is Hange Zoe, one of the brightest minds of Marley?"

"Something like that, yeah," Hange took a cup of tea in her hands, hiding her embarrassment behind it.

"Wow... that's certainly... a lot to take in. I heard so many things about you."

"Nice ones, I hope?"

The corners of Onyakopon's lips slid down. "Not really."

"Ah... Understandable, I guess."

"But if you're the famous betrayer, why are you here? Are you—"

"We've been working together for a long time," Moblit repeated. "I trust Hange's judgement."

"I have an exceptional talent of picking out bullshit. And," Hange grinned, the curl of her lips just this side of being feral. "I'm a master of reaping fingernails out."

Onyakopon promptly chocked on the tea he was drinking. Sending her the most disappointing of his looks, Moblit jumped out from his seat to help the other man to cough it all out. His panicked face did awake a bit of shame in Hange.

"It was a joke," she hurried to assure.

"A very bad one," Moblit grumbled, softly patting Onyakopon on the back.

"I see nothing has changed about you, Hange," after returning his breathing under control, Onyakopon raised his eyes, giving her a joyful smile.

Hange wasn't sure if his words held any truth, personally, she hadn't felt like her happy, curious and driven self from years ago, but, nevertheless, she answered his smile with the one of her own.

"Now, let's talk about you," Moblit returned to his place, sitting down on the opposite side from Onyakopon. His back was straight, his expression relaxed but solemn. He grew, Hange noted absentmindedly. He was no longer that timid, shy man she had met all these years ago. "Do you know what happened with Yelena?"

"I understand that she is in the same boat as I am right now."

"Not quite," Moblit retorted. "We've recently found out that she has been talking with Eren behind our backs."

Onyakopon put the cup down, his hands a little more unsteady than Hange remembered them to be. "I... didn't know about any of this. Do you know what they were discussing?"

"Commander Pixis and the others are attempting to make sense of it as we speak."

"And in the meantime you decided to interrogate me." Onyakopon's demeanor changed, his eyes flashing. "Have I not done enough, Moblit? For you and for the people of Eldia? Haven't we helped you enough? And yet, you still don't trust me. You come here with—" his gaze shifted to Hange, but whatever Onyakopon wanted to say didn't leave his mouth, Moblit's hardened expression stopping him.

"You know how hard it is to earn trust," Moblit spoke calmly. "Especially now. Personally, I don't think that you're involved in Yelena's dealings. But I have to make sure of it. Wouldn't you do the same, if you were in my position?"

"Besides," Hange chimed in, "Even Eren is imprisoned. Do you really blame them for not trusting foreigners?"

Onyakopon took his time before answering. His jaw clenched, as he fixed his gaze on the wooden surface of the table.

"Maybe, you're right," he said at last. At his admission, Moblit relaxed. But Hange knew that Onyakopon wasn't finished yet. "But I risked my life to help get Eren back. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Yelena took part in that mission as well." Moblit reminded.

"I'm not Yelena." Onyankopon harshly retorted.

Moblit scowled. Onyakopon was glaring back at him, hands crossed on his chest. Hange decided it was time to intervene once more.

"Are we thinking of the same Yelena?" she interrupted their staring contest, easing the air around both men. "Tall, blonde and absolutely crazy?"

Not taking his eyes of Onyakopon, Moblit nodded. "She also has a strange obsession with Yeager brothers."

"Ah," yeah, Hange knew her. How could she not? Yelena was... "A lovely girl. Even I get chills from her. I doubt that Pixis would be able to get something out of her."

"That what worries me," Moblit confessed, rubbing his temples. The gesture was familiar to Hange - Moblit always suffered from headaches when under stress. "The Queen is coming back soon. If we don't secure the capital..."

"Historia is coming back?" Hange wasn't aware of it. When she asked Sasha about a little girl that once was called Christa and then grew up to become a Queen, Sasha said that she was also getting ready to become a mother. Was bringing her to the capital a good call then? With everything in such state of disarray?

"It was her decision, not ours," Moblit explained. "When the Queen learned what is going in, she deemed it necessary to intervene."

"Hopefully, the Queen is loved more than Eren Yeager."

Yeah, that would be the best case scenario. For everyone - even Marleyans - involved.

"In these uncertain times..." Moblit hanged his head with a deep, weary sigh. "Hope is all we have. Thank you for your time, Onyakopon. We'll be heading back now."

Having said that, he stood up. Hange meant to follow his suit, but at the last moment, Onyakopon stopped her, catching her sleeve between his fingers.

"About what happened in Liberio," he stiffly began. "Marley destroyed my hometown," Hange solemnly nodded. She was forced to take part in that particular operation. She hated every second of it. "I can't and I won't forgive them for that. But..." his voice softened, his thumb rubbed comforting circles around her pulse point. "Liberio was your home as well. So I know what you're going through."

Taken by surprise, Hange blinked a couple of times, gawking at Onyakopon. She expected anger from him. In the worst case - pity. But he offered her only his understanding. She was grateful for that.

“Goodbye, Onyankopon,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hopefully, that wouldn’t be our last meeting.”

Hange could very well agree on that.

___

When they were back in Sina, the sun was already setting, painting the streets and buildings into shades of orange, red and pink. While walking through the town, Hange was once again reminded of how beautiful it truly was. The abundance of trees and flower bushes, the shiny cobblestone and petite houses added to its charm, making Sina look almost magical.

“Pretty as a picture,” Hange had once called it, during a walk through the town with Levi by her side. Her fascination, that careless mishap almost got her lie uncovered.

“You look like you’re seeing it for the first time, four-eyes,” Levi had thrown that line carelessly, but his had narrowed ever so slightly and his frown had deepened. “Didn’t you say that you have grown up in the city?”

In that moment, Hange had almost started panicking. She could almost see it too – Levi finding out the truth, Levi dragging her to Erwin, Erwin getting everything he could out of her, him, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Keiji, Abel, Levi and countless of others feeling disappointed and betrayed. The story would have ended with her standing on the gallows.

Perhaps, this end would have been more merciful. But that day, her joyful, only slightly forced laughter and a meaningless ‘Don’t you know me, Levi? I always have my head up in the clouds?’ had saved her from the early demise. And doomed her to many years of torture, heartache and self-hatred.

“Hey,” a gentle hand on her elbow broke her out of the internal misery. Hange looked up, meeting Moblit’s hazel eyes. “It will take some time until we reach the headquarters. Can we talk in the meanwhile?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“I actually want to ask a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Moblit trailed off for a moment, pressing his lips in a line. Hange smiled faintly, she knew that expression too – he always wore it when he was contemplating his next move. As soon as his mind was set, it vanished, the usual kind face returning. “I would like to know why… you came here in the first place.”

That was it? Hange almost exhaled with relief. She thought he was going to ask something truly awful.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Just like Hoover, Leonhart, Braun and Galliard, I was sent to retrieve the Founding Titan.”

“But you didn’t do it. You had countless opportunities to take Eren from us, and you never acted on any of them. So why did you really come here?”

That was… a question more complicated than Hange was ready for. She didn’t know what to tell Moblit, how much she was willing to share. She had never talked about this, not to a single soul. Her comrades and friends from Marley would never understand her anyway. But Moblit wasn’t Marleyan, he didn’t possess the same mentality. Perhaps, he wouldn’t judge her. Hange was counting on that.

Without another second spent on doubt, she began her tale,

“My father was a hero – a soldier, brilliant tactician, an even better politician. He was resolute, fearsome and absolutely merciless to his enemies. No surprise that many considered him to be an ideal Marleyan citizen. And I was his only child. Naturally, everyone expected me to be as brilliant as him. I began my training at the age of five, and by the age of twelve I was already a perfect soldier. However, that’s not who I wanted to be. I wanted to explore the world, to travel to distant lands, but as the child of my father, I had my whole life controlled by him, and then, when he passed away, by the expectations everyone had for me.”

Taking a pause, Hange chanced a look at Moblit, expecting him to be disgusted or annoyed by her whining. She had everything given to her on a plate, a bright future guarantied, and she still yearned for something more. It was pathetic, wasn’t it? She was pathetic. However, Moblit… didn’t seem to share that opinion. At least, his face didn’t show the signs of it. Instead of the outrage Hange had expected to see, she was met with sympathy.

It made the pain in her chest grew tenfold.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue.

“I could never decide for myself, my whole life was controlled by my father’s legacy. I wanted to break free of it, by whatever means necessary. So when I heard about the mission to retrieve the Founding Titan, I latched onto that chance, convincing the brass to send me there with the kids. But I’ve arrived earlier than them, and we got separated. And so… I decided to use that time to do what I always wanted. To study and explore.”

It was the most brilliant of her adventures. She loathed being a soldier and having to kill countless enemies of Marley. But there was no war at Paradis. The only enemies were Titans, and as much as Hange felt for their struggle, she managed to convince herself that she was killing them for their own good. That she was freeing them from their never-ending curse.

“No one knew me here, and I could be whoever I wanted to. And I liked being Squad Leader Hange, because Squad Leader Hange was allowed to be as weird and curious as I wanted. People here accepted me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I found the place where I belonged.”

Of course, that wasn’t true, a mere fantasy, a delusion on her part. She was a Marleyan, a child of the man who condemned thousands of Eldians. She had no place in their world. And yet, Hange was happy. It was the bitter truth she was afraid to admit for so long - she loved the persona of Squad Leader Hange. So much more than the persona of the Professor and war engineer, Hange Zoe.

But nothing could last forever. And when the time has come to return to Marley, Hange was devastated. She lost herself in playing her own game.

“That’s it, I guess,” she said, rolling her shoulders. Looking up, she saw they were almost by the stables where they left their horses in the morning. So deep inside her own head, she failed to notice how much time had passed. “I ran away because I was sick of my life back home. And I spent five years pretending to be someone else.”

“Were you really?” Moblit watched her, his gaze inquisitive. “Were you really pretending to be someone else, Hange-san? Or did you finally allow yourself to release your true self?”

That was… a scary statement. And much more loaded than Hange could deal with in that moment.

“I could be wrong, though,” Moblit shot her an innocent smile. Hange cursed under her breath, a true devil, that’s what he was. Getting her to admit to so much of her insecurities, Moblit surely had a talent for it. And to think he asked her to help him with interrogation. He seemed to be pretty adept at it himself.

“Stay here, I’ll bring our horses,” he started walking in the direction of the stables, but at the last moment turned away, and, meeting Hange’s eyes, added, “I’m glad that you took that mission, Hange-san. And I’m glad that I got to meet the real you. All of us are.”

Hange snorted, watching Moblit go. Perhaps, her father was right about something. Devils, all of them were. How else to explain the ease with which they wormed their way into her heart?

Her shoulders dropped as soon as Moblit had disappeared from her view, and she turned to stare at the setting sun. Certainly, it was one hell of a draining conversation.

But as her thoughts were still scattered in disarray, her heart felt so much lighter. She never shared this part of her with anyone, was afraid to admit it even to herself. But now she was glad she had finally done it. Perhaps, she should have done it a long time ago. Her life could have been easier then, the amount of regrets considerably lesser.

She swept her gaze around the plaza Moblit left her at. With the day coming to an end, not a lot of people were there. As far as Hange could see, the only ones still present were a happy mother with a two children, who were feeding the pigeons on the bench at the far side of the plaza, an elderly couple, and—

And a girl that sat at the edge of the fountain. The short stature, slumped shoulders, that luscious long black hair were familiar to the point of setting Hange's heart ablaze.

She couldn't see the face, was afraid to, but even so, Hange denied what her eyes saw. Surely, it was her imagination, her mind conjuring things that weren't there. This girl, she was—

A shadow, fathom. It couldn't be— it couldn't be her. Even the possibility of it was raising the hairs at the back of Hange's neck.

It wasn't Pieck, just a random girl. Hange was wrong, simply seeing things. Those familiar traits belonged to someone else. Pieck wasn't here, in Paradis, Pieck couldn't be—

"Hange?" she jumped, and whirled around so swiftly her head went dizzy. Before her stood Moblit, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly. "Everything alright?"

She exhaled with relief. "Peachy," she answered with a smile she didn't feel. Her eyes shifted from one side of plaza to the other, searching for the figure she had seen. But like all shadows do, she simply vanished.

"I brought our horses," Moblit gestured for her to follow him. Hange did, not looking back even once.

Even so, she felt someone's gaze burning into her back all the way to the headquarters.

___

"Sorry," Moblit stood at the threshold of her room, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I need to report to Zacklay and Pixis."

His expression was nearly apologetic. Hange patted his shoulder, touched by his not so subtle concern. "Stop worrying so much, Mob. Nothing would happen if you leave me for one evening."

Moblit kept frowning, looking as unconvinced as ever. "I'll tell Sasha and Connie to bring you dinner,” he nodded to himself. “And if you need anything, just tell the guard to call for me."

"Alright, alright. Now go!" Hange gave him a forceful push. "And make me proud!"

She didn't get an answer out of him, but she did see a faint blush appear on his cheeks. That was enough for Hange to chuckle victoriously.

Once Moblit had disappeared around the corner, Hange shoved the door closed and leaned against it. It was an exhausting, eventful day. She wanted nothing more than to rest. She headed towards the bed to fulfill that exact goal.

But no sooner than she had seated down, she heard the knock on the door. Albeit quietly, it was repeated three more times.

Sighing, Hange stood up again and walked back to the door. She swung it open, expecting to see Sasha and Connie. She was hoping to get a warm meal inside while gossiping with the two teenagers. A second later, the door stood open. And Hange's throat was closed up.

On the other side of the threshold— there was no Sasha, no Connie. Only Pieck.

And so the shadow finally took form.

Pieck was dressed similarly to her, in the dark green uniform. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail, a smile was playing on her lips. The subtle differences in her attire only added to the sense of disbelief.

At the sight of her lovely face, all air left Hange's lungs. She desperately tried to take a breath, opening and closing her mouth rapidly. She wasn’t sure for how long she would have continued gaping like a fish fresh out of the water hadn't Pieck taken the matters in her own hands.

"It's been a while, Hange," as always, she spoke in a quiet, sugary sweet voice. Usually it calmed Hange down. Now it was sending shivers down her spine. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Pieck," Hange meant to sound leveled, controlled. But even a single word came out shaky and unsure. "Pieck," she tried again, this time with more success. "What are you doing here?"

Pushing past Hange, Pieck walked inside the room, heavily sliding down on a chair. "Serving my country. Something you have forgotten about."

Pieck stared straight at her, hands folded in her lap, a picture of friendliness and innocence. But the smile Hange always found so endearing, now seemed almost chilling.

"Tell me, Hange, is this the part of your plan? Have you decided to use your old history with these people to destroy them from the inside? Or," Pieck paused, tilting her head to one side. She didn't look angry, or disappointed. If anything, she seemed simply curious. But the atmosphere in the room was tense, air electrified with trepidation. Hange knew Pieck all too well, she knew how dangerous the shifter girl could be. "Have you already forgotten what they did in Liberio, in our city? How they destroyed it? How killed thousands of men, women and children? These monsters almost killed Reiner, Porco," her voice wavered at the names of her dear comrades. But even then, she didn’t drop the unassuming façade. "And do you know what happened to Udo and Zophia? Have you seen what become of them?"

Stunned, Hange could only stare at Pieck. The words left her, her mind unable to come up with anything she could have used to explain herself.

Indifferent to Hange’s internal struggle, Pieck continued.

"Do you even care, Hange? About Marley, about us?"

"Of course, I do." How Pieck could even doubt that? Udo and Zophia, those bright, adorable children Hange couldn't quite imagine them being gone. "Pieck, you misunderstand, I've been captured, I'm not—"

"Don't make me laugh." Pieck interrupted curtly. "You have your own room, you walk freely through the town, you wear their uniform. Is this how they treat all of their prisoners? Awfully kind of them then, considering the monstrosities these devils committed."

"Pieck, listen—"

Pieck didn't want to.

"You always were a strange one, Hange," gracefully, the girl stood up, taking a step closer. With her hands behind her back, she started pacing, circling around Hange. "I could never understand what was going on inside your head. I still can't. But, naively, I thought that I knew you. That after years of fighting side by side, we grew close enough. And after the disaster at Liberio," she picked up a sheet of paper from Hange's desk, gave it a quick once over before disregarding it in favor of focusing her eyes on Hange once more. "I kept looking for you. I was so afraid to find your body under a fallen building or see you with a hole in the head. But you were nowhere to be found. Everyone was worried sick, the brass was livid - the devils from Paradis killed the Warhammer, took our Beast and now our brightest mind was missing as well. And then I remembered what I have seen during the fight. A short man approaching you, the same one who nearly killed Zeke, that Ackerman. I thought he had captured you, I thought you needed saving. Seems like I was wrong about that, huh?”

Even now, Pieck was keeping her calm. Despite the harsh accusations, her voice remained gentle, almost soothing. The smile was still in place, and her head was tilted up, peering into Hange’s eyes.

Hange did everything she could to escape that unsettling gaze.

“I also came to because I needed you,” Pieck continued. “I thought you would help me with my mission.”

Would she? Should she? Hange didn’t know. She knew what Professor Hange Zoe would have done. She knew what Squad Leader Hange would have done.

But what would she do?

“I guess it doesn’t matter. Whether you help us or not, the outcome will be the same. Paradis will fall, Hange. Consider it my only warning. If you wish to witness its demise alongside these devils, I won't stop you. But," without looking at Hange, Pieck laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "If your decision ever changes, I'll be happy to fight by your side."

After that, Pieck left the room, closing the door softly on her way out. Hange, however, didn’t move, remaining frozen in one place, too stunned to follow after Pieck and demand a more thorough explanation.

However... what was there to explain? Paradis will fall. Plain and simple.

Right now, Hange couldn't quite believe it, although she was supposed to expect it. What could possibly happen to that little island after Eren's desperate rampage? But even before that, Paradis was already doomed. The events that transpired at Shiganshina proved to the outside world just how dangerous the Eldians could be. And Shiganshina was simply a plant that had grown out of the seed of Grisha Yeager's crimes.

There was no hope for Paradis. There never was.

Paradis will fall.

What could she do to save it? Could she do something, anything at all? Could she help them, expose her nation's plans? Could she betray her motherland like that? If she shared the truth with people of Paradis, would they even believe her? Would her people forgive her?

Hange didn't know. Her mind was in frenzy, her thoughts flying from one horrible outcome to the other. It was in that catatonic state that Sasha and Connie found her.

"Hange-san? Is everything alright?"

Hange looked up, meeting their bewildered gazes. In that moment she realized - she didn't want these kids to die. She didn't want for them to suffer any more than they've already done. And the others - Moblit, Levi - Hange couldn't bear the thought of them in harm. But—

She didn't want for her fellow countrymen to die as well.

Fuck. Why was everything so hard these days, why it was so damn complicated? When would her heart stop tearing into two pieces? Why was everything out of her control?

It was always an issue of hers, the lack of control. This time was no different. Caught between crossfires, Hange didn't know which side to choose. Perhaps then... she shouldn't choose at all.

Perhaps, she should take the back seat. Let everything transpire the way it was supposed to be. Let them fight, let someone win.

And so, with a heavy heart and troubled consciousness, Hange came to a decision. She would not alert Paradis about the threat hanging over them. She would not help Marley in their fight.

But there was another side to all of this. Another warning, another trouble that couldn’t be ignored.

There was a danger of Marley invasion, but equally disturbing was the events transpiring inside the Walls. Something was brewing, a storm ready to swipe everyone in its path. And Hange had a nasty feeling that at the center of it, two figures stood – Yeager brothers.

Nothing could be done about Eren, Hange had doubts that even his closest friends had a single clue of what was going inside the boy’s head, what dangerous ideas were forming there. But Zeke, Hange knew how to deal with Zeke. She also knew someone who could deal with him in the most efficient way.

She didn’t know what Zeke was planning. But she was confident that Levi would be able to find out.

She just needed to give him a little push.

“Sasha,” Hange smiled at the girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you would be so kind, tell Moblit to visit me before he retires for the night.”

Moblit had mentioned that he was corresponding with Levi. The time has come to use this detail to her and the world’s advantage.

The world as they knew was changing, perhaps, it was already at the brink of collapse, horrible destruction. What did Moblit say? In these uncertain times, hope is all we have?

In that case, her only hope was Levi.

#does someone still remember that fic? i for sure had almost forgotten about it jdfsdkhgsjgh #levihan

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osferth · 3 years

Text

the haunting of cookham house: chapter 1

summary: In the midst of an exhausting flat search, newlyweds Sophia and Anjali Abbot suddenly inherit a large country house miles away in the serene village of Cookham. It proves to be much more than the couple bargained for, however, when they arrive to find it already occupied... by nine ancient ghosts.

tagging: @lauwrite1225 @maggiescarborough @morosemagick @solinarimoon @lannisterdaddyissues @firexfate @93xdiagonxalley @aadmelioraa @emilyhufflepufftlk

“Won’t be long now,” murmured Finan.

The laboured breaths of the elderly woman began to slow as the ghosts grouped around her bed watched over almost reverently.

“She had a good life,” Uhtred said quietly.

“At least she’s comfortable,” Sihtric added.

“Yeah, there are worse ways to go,” Osferth pointed out, gesturing to the arrow lodged in his chest. There was a mumbled chorus of assent amongst the ghosts before Hild shushed them all.

“Quiet,” she hissed.

“I think it’s happening,” said Father Beocca. “Look.”

Silence finally fell as a bright light began to emanate from the woman’s body, Beocca making a sign of the cross as her spirit rose up to face them all. “Who are you?” she asked.

Everyone immediately looked toward Uhtred, who for some reason was still considered their unofficial leader despite being… well, dead.

“I was once the lord of the village you call Cookham,” he began ostentatiously, “true Lord of Bebbanburg and a warrior with great reputation, now forced to wander the lands where I was slain as a ghost for all eterni-”

“And she’s gone,” finished Father Pyrlig unceremoniously.

“This always happens,” muttered Uhtred, staring at the patterned wallpaper before him. “I do not understand.”

Pyrlig shrugged. “Yeah, well, the rest of us do.”

“I have always thought not everyone seems to enjoy your speeches as much as you think,” commented Skade, appearing suddenly behind Osferth and making him jump.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that all the time,” he grumbled.

“Oh, honestly!” snapped Hild suddenly, glaring at all of them. “The woman has barely passed on! At the very least, we should show some respect.”

Father Beocca nodded. “The abbess is right. I shall say a prayer for her soul.” He cleared his throat slightly before beginning. “Our Lord in Heaven…”

Finan leaned across to Sihtric. “Bagsie her room,” he whispered over the prayer, to which the Dane only rolled his eyes.

“Amen,” said Beocca finally.

“Amen,” chorused the ghosts, Finan a little louder and later than the rest. With nothing more to add, silence returned for a brief moment until it was broken by Osferth.

“I wonder what’ll happen to this place once she’s taken away.”

Pyrlig looked sideways at him. “Well, I imagine someone else will move in,” he said dryly.

“All of you!” said Hild exasperatedly. “Please! Her body is still warm, for goodnessʼ sake.”

Looking appropriately chastised, Osferth looked down at the floor. “Perhaps one of us should say a few words,” he suggested.

“I shall do it,” said Uhtred immediately, straightening up. “As the lord of Cookham, I…”

“And he's off again,” muttered Pyrlig, shaking his head as he left the room. The other ghosts quickly followed suit amid murmurs and eye rolls, although Uhtred did not notice as his speech grew more passionate and heartfelt.

“Who will be the one to reclaim this as their home?” he sighed finally, looking through the window at the overgrown front garden.

“Um… let’s take a look at the view, shall we?”

The estate agent led Sophia over to the window with an apologetic look on his face, Anjali trailing slightly behind with about as much enthusiasm as you would expect when buying a cramped, one-bedroom flat in the middle of nowhere.

Peering over Sophia’s shoulder, she was greeted with the scenic image of a local chip shop sandwiched between a defunct barber shop and a Londis. Just on time, an old poster tacked onto the front door swung off one corner and was quickly carried down the street by a gust of wind.

“Well,” began Sophia uncertainly, “at least we won’t have to go far for groceries. Or fish and chips.”

“I don’t like fish or chips,” Anjali muttered.

Sophia squinted at the shop sign. “They also do kebabs,” she suggested, although she did not sound too keen.

“I’ll leave you two to have a chat in here,” said the estate agent tactfully. “Just give me a shout when you’re ready, alright?”

Anjali watched him disappear into the kitchen before turning to her wife. “I do like kebabs, I s’pose,” she conceded. Sophia smiled slightly, but before she could reply, her phone started buzzing.

“Hang on, I’ll just… hello?”

“Hello, is this Sophia Abbot?” asked a slightly-garbled male voice.

“Speaking,” she replied.

“I’m calling about a house.”

“We’re only looking at flats, we can’t afford to buy a house.”

“This one’s not for sale.”

Sophia frowned. “Well then, why are you calling?” she snapped, ending the call. God. Some estate agents really were the worst-

Her phone buzzed again before she could have a chance to think. Still irritated, she picked it up but did not answer.

“Sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” said the same man quickly. “I’m a solicitor at Willard and Phillips and I’m calling to inform you that you have, in fact, inherited a house.”

The moments after that were a blur for Sophia and, after being informed of the news, for Anjali, too. Their estate agent simply seemed relieved to not have to accompany the couple on visits to flats that had, quite frankly, seen better days.

An appointment was scheduled for the very next morning. It all felt wildly surreal to Anjali and particularly Sophia, who was baffled upon being informed that the previous owner of the beautiful Cookham property was actually a distant great-aunt… or something along those lines, anyway. Even the solicitor seemed to be having trouble connecting the two, but as there was no other living relative, the house was legally Sophia’s.

Unable to contain their excitement, they promptly called off the flat search and decided to move in that same afternoon. Neither of them were familiar with Cookham, but the further they drove through the more they grew to love the village. With its gorgeous landscapes and old-fashioned architecture, Sophia and Anjali felt only enthusiastic to be able to call this place home.

“Feels like we’ve gone back in time, doesn’t it?” Anjali sighed, gazing out of the window.

“Yeah,” smiled Sophia, “it’s nothing like Croydon.”

Anjali consulted her phone, reading through the Wikipedia entry on Cookham. “It’s got a lot of history to it,” she said. “Listen to this: ‘By the 8th century there was an Anglo-Saxon abbey in Cookham and one of the later abbesses was-” sorry, no idea how to pronounce that- ‘widow of King Offa of Mercia.’ It’s still there, I think. We could visit at some point!”

“8th century,” repeated Sophia. “Bloody hell, it’s ancient, isn’t it?”

“Ooh, look: ‘It became the centre of a power struggle between Mercia and Wessex. Later King Alfred made Sashes Island one of his-’ er, berrs? Boors? Dunno- ‘to help defend against Viking invaders.’ This is so cool!”

“Is there anything a bit more recent?” Sophia asked.

Anjali rolled her eyes, skimming over the rest of the article.

“Nothing interesting… ooh, except,” she snickered, “a ‘Miss Isabella Fleming in 1869, who wanted to stop nude bathing at Odney.’”

Sophia snorted. “What?”

“Yeah, there is zero elaboration on that one.”

“Shame.”

“That yellow wagon’s given me an awful headache,” Finan complained, rubbing his head.

Brida looked disdainfully at him. “That’s not possible,” she said flatly. “You’re dead. And I believe they called it an ambulance last week.”

“Well, I would’ve had a headache if I was still alive,” muttered Finan.

Beocca sighed. “I am beginning to miss her already.”

Uhtred nodded, although the other ghosts suspected that had more to do with her being an indirect relative of his rather than him having any actual interest in her as a person. It was taken for granted that he continued to behave as though he still had ownership over the cottage - and indeed the village itself - even if he was because he was physically unable to leave it.

A creak sounded from the far corner of the room suddenly, startling most of the ghosts. Skade looked up from her seat by the table, a vase slightly out of place, as she met them all with narrowed eyes.

Thoroughly unsettled, Uhtred and all three of his men turned around without a word. Brida shook her head at all of them and marched off to sit beside Skade. Their relationship had been rocky at first, certainly characterised by animosity while they were still alive, but spending over a millennium together had softened it somewhat. It was more to do with the fact that nobody else, other than Hild and sometimes Osferth, tended to visit the lake she haunted. While Brida spent the most time at the lake, Hild had started venturing out to visit every so often, her hatred of the seer lessening as her curiosity grew. Osferth’s visits were still rare, however, given that he remained wracked with guilt.

“I wonder-”

“Who will come to reclaim this place as their home,” Pyrlig said, interrupting the former Lord of Bebbanburg, “yes, we wonder that too.”

Despite their respect for him, Finan and Osferth snickered.

“Well,” said Hild, “I don’t think we’ll have to wonder for much longer.” She waved all of them over to where she was standing by the window, Brida being the last to get there - the last they looked, Skade remained in her seat.

Standing near the back, Osferth suddenly felt a presence on his left. He jolted upon seeing the seer standing only inches away, smirking.

“Y’know, I’m beginning to think you enjoy this,” he grumbled.

“Looks a bit like that medical wagon, doesn’t it?” Finan commented, watching the car pull into the driveway.

“Ambulance,” Brida supplied flatly.

“I don’t think that’s an ambulance, Brida,” said Uhtred wisely, blind to the dirty look she gave him.

Hild shushed them as two women climbed out. One was considerably shorter and clad in an oversized jumper and jogging bottoms. Her skin was brown and her hair dark and wavy, curling over her shoulders. The other was slightly taller, dressed in jeans and a lilac knitted jumper. She was dark-skinned and her curly hair was pulled back, away from her face. Her arm was around the other woman’s shoulders as both gazed in awe up at the house.

“I think - this is it!” Sophia announced, slowing down as the car bumped over the gravelled drive. “Oh, wow.”

Parking the car, she turned the ignition off and opened the door to let herself out, taking in the sight of the grand house before them.

“It’s even prettier than in the photos,” Anjali sighed dreamily. “And it’s all ours.”

“I still can’t believe it,” said Sophia, breaking her gaze from the house to look at her wife.

Anjali beamed, pressing a little kiss to her lips. “Well, shall we?” she said, offering Sophia her arm. Sophia smiled and hooked her arm in Anjali’s, the two of them making their way over to the door.

As she turned the key in the lock, she felt a strange sensation from above, almost as though she was being watched.

Anjali shook her arm a little. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said quickly, “it’s nothing.” Shaking her head, she pushed the door open.

“Did you see that!” Finan exclaimed, watching the young couple before them briefly kiss before disappearing under the doorframe.

“I think we all did,” said Osferth dryly.

“Times have changed,” Uhtred said thoughtfully.

Sihtric rolled his eyes. “Have they?”

He was the only one who noticed the way Brida had begun looking longingly towards Skade, the seer seemingly having tired of tormenting Osferth for once.

“Well, it’s been a thousand years,” Father Pyrlig pointed out snidely, missing what was going on. “Obviously they have. Jesus.”

Clearly in a rush to get a closer look at the people who had ‘reclaimed his home’, Uhtred quickly left the room - prompting the other ghosts to follow.

“He was never one for patience, was he?” huffed Father Beocca as they descended the stairs.

Hild raised her eyebrows momentarily. “I’m afraid not.”

“How old did they say the actual house was?” Sophia inquired, peering over Anjali’s shoulder at her phone.

“Er… oh, yeah, here! It was built in 1808 and renovated in 1953.”

Sophia grinned. “Reckon it’s haunted, then?”

“Probably,” Anjali said, all-too serious. Out of the two, she was the believer - Sophia was the staunch sceptic. Anything even slightly out of the ordinary terrified Anjali, from flickering lights to objects moving without cause, while Sophia always had a rational explanation handy. Perhaps it was a good thing, then, that this fear did not extend to spiders - those were Sophia’s weakness.

The chess board was what caught Sophia’s eye first. “This is so cool,” she murmured, leaning over to pick up a pawn. Upon seeing that it was coated in a thin layer of dust, however, she pulled away. As she did so, she felt a strange sensation course across her forearm, almost as though a cold breeze had blown its way over. Ever the sceptic, she assumed there was a window open nearby and thought nothing of it.

Finan shuddered, backing away from the chess board. “God, I’d forgotten how awful that feels.”

Pyrlig rolled his eyes from where he was standing a safe distance away.

Just as Anjali was about to collapse onto the couch with the golden-gilded legs she had been eyeing for several minutes, Sophia pulled her away.

“It’s all dusty down here,” she explained, her voice muffled by the hand she was using to cover her nose. “Let’s dump our stuff upstairs and take a look around.”

“Won’t it be dusty upstairs, too?” Anjali dubiously pointed out.

“Nah, they'll have cleaned the bedrooms out at least,” said Sophia, “‘cos the last owner died up there.”

Anjali stared at her. “What?” she exploded. “Which one? I don’t want to sleep in the same room where someone died, what if-”

“It won’t be haunted,” Sophia quickly reassured her, “‘cos we’re not gonna stay in that room, not if it scares you that much. Ghosts aren’t real either way, so... you’ll be alright.”

“Agree to disagree,” mumbled Anjali, letting Sophia lead her upstairs anyway. As she left, she felt the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. It could have been simple paranoia, as Sophia would explain it away as, or it could have been something Anjali did not even want to consider - but either way, she was beginning to understand exactly why old houses gave some people the creeps.

#the last kingdom #tlk #uhtred of bebbanburg #finan #osferth #sihtric #brida #skade #father pyrlig #father beocca #hild #the last kingdom fanfiction #my writing

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

Text

Be a Good Guest, part 7

CW: Whump, captive Whumpee, *inhales* Possessive, parental, intimate overprotective whumper, shackles, belting references, whumpee chipped with a tracker, angst, emotional whumpee

(holo, yes, we are back with original Walter and Gabriel, and didn’t want to neglect the cabin)

Masterlist

Gabriel blinked awake, the sensation in his neck had shifted from burning pain to soreness. He squinted as he stared at the painting on the wall trying to remember where he was. Wait, when did he get into bed? Hadn’t he fallen asleep on the couch? He sat up and instantly winced, placing his hand over the fresh bandage on the side of his neck. Did he actually shoot a chip into his neck? How could someone be so heartless and cruel? He felt like a claimed and tagged animal. He touched his feet to the hardwood floor, the heavy chain around his ankle falling to the floor into a coil with a clatter. He hated himself for starting to get used to the chain.

He jumped when the door opened as Walter peaked his head in. “Hey little one, good morning.” He smiled with a soothing tone, almost worried speaking too loudly would hurt or frighten him. Gabriel hated even more how he talked to him like he was some tiny fragile little thing.

“How do you feel? Can I get you anything?” Walter asked.

Not wanting to talk to him, Gabriel only shook his head, regretting it instantly as a pulse of pain shot through his neck as he hissed with a cringe. Walter was quick to push the door open all the way, trying to sit next to him on the bed as Gabriel whimpered and leaned away.

“Oh, no no no. You’re fine honey, don’t be frightened.” He cooed, wrapping an arm around him to keep him from going any further. Gabriel was silent as he cowered in response, Walter could feel how tense he was as he trembled slightly. “Are you mad at me?” Walter asked. Gabriel didn’t even look at him, but a single tear running down his cheek answered his question. Walter used his sleeve to wipe it away as he tilted his chin up.

“Come on, I’ll make you some breakfast, can you play something for me while I cook?” He asked. Gabriel slowly did a single nod in response as Walter smiled joyfully, guiding him over to the piano in the living room. He lit a candle and set it on the table nearby to give him some extra light, the yellow gleam softly warming up the dreary room. Gabriel didn’t react when the chain was clasped onto his leg, he only sat with his head down and let him do whatever he pleased with him.

Walter held a pan as he made bacon and eggs, trying to cut the eggs into fun shapes. He couldn’t help but smile as music from the piano flowed through the cabin. This was just the best life~ The beautiful cabin, all the food he could cook, gorgeous music playing softly in the background, with his precious beautiful darling boy-

His thoughts were cut off when the music abruptly stopped, replaced with a loud slam of multiple keys struck at once. The music was replaced by hysterical sobbing as Walter bolted out of the kitchen, skidding into the living room to see Gabriel with his head hiding in his elbows collapsed onto the piano keys as he let out a heart-wrenching broken sob.

Walter was stuck frozen staring at Gabriel with wide eyes as the cabin was drowned in his sorrow. Gabriel couldn’t control himself anymore, the music was no longer enough to keep him grounded as his tears dripped onto the keys while his voice cried out with uncontrolled sobs.

Walter snapped out of his stunned phase as he grabbed him right off off the bench from behind and pulled him into his lap. Gabriel let out a wail as he was cradled in the man’s arms.

“Shh, sh shhh… Hush little one… You’re okay, everything is okay.” He shushed, cupping his cheek in the palm of his hand.

“... I w-want to go h-h-ome…!” Gabriel blubbered out between the sobs and sniffling. He could feel Walter sigh as he was held against his chest, squeezing one eye closed as he tried to thumb away his tears.

“You are home, Gabriel. You have a roof over your head, food on the table, the piano that you’re so talented with! You have me, someone who adores you, cares for you, and loves you. What more could I possibly give you?” He asked.

“No!” Gabriel shouted, shoving him away and crawling out of his lap. “You don’t love me! You don’t do this to someone you love! You took everything from me! You stole my freedom! You stole my life! You.... You stole me!” He shouted, more broken then angry.

“Gabriel! Don’t say that, that’s not true.” He said, his voice was hurt as he stood to his feet, Gabriel shuffling a few steps back at his sudden height.

“Everything I do is for you, Gabriel. This is all to keep you safe! Look at where you were before I brought you in, you were in a car crash! You were hurt and scared, you could have died!” He cried.

“No! I was happy! I still am hurt and I’m still scared! You belted me and shot a tracker in my neck!” He hissed, pointing at the band aid in his neck with a speck of blood soaked through.

Walter was silent as he tried desperately to think of a comeback.

“Well!... you’re not dead!”

Gabriel let out an agonizing groan in frustration as his hands pulled at his hair.

“Okay! Okay.” Walter shouted at him, his hands raised as he tried to calm him down. “Lets just go do something, let’s just.. Get out of the house today, okay?” He asked. Gabriel froze as his teary eyes stared at the floor blankly, trying to process what he was offering. “There’s a trail I used to walk on all the time, it’s beautiful.” He smiled, bending his body sideways until he could make eye contact with him.

“Will that make you happy?” He asked with a sweet hopeful smile. Gabriel's arms dropped from his hair limply to his sides as he dared a glance up. “Okay.” He mumbled, shutting his eyes as he wiped the rest of his tears away. Walter let out a relieved sigh. Gabriel looked like he was going crazy locked up in here for several days, maybe a peaceful walk on the trail would calm him down.

Walter quickly finished making breakfast and packed it in a woven picnic basket wrapped in colorful material. Gabriel sat silently waiting by the door with a neutral expression, which was quite a mood improvement. He didn’t look quite so miserable, exhausted or in pain, he was just ready for his walk.

Walter slung the basket around his arm as he extended his hand to Gabriel, who glanced at it, but didn’t take it. “Now Gabriel, I don’t want to kill the mood, but I need to trust you won’t run off on me.” Walter said, trying to keep his tone light and non-threatening. “Or else-” “-Or else you’ll track me, I know.” Gabriel grumbled, crossing his arms and swinging a leg over his knee. Walter closed his eyes with a sigh as he nodded in agreement. “Alright, I just needed to get that out of the way, come on now, I think you’ll really like the trail.” He smiled.

He took a coat and threw it over Gabriel's shoulders and zipped it up for him before he had a chance to do it himself. He wrapped a scarf around his neck and fiddled with it for some time before he was satisfied. “Is that comfortable?” He asked with a head tilt. Gabriel really wanted to say no out of spite, but he was desperate to get out of the house, so he just nodded his head.

Walter unlocked the countless locks on the door. The broken window by the door had boards nailed to the wall in an attempt to cover the shattered glass. Gabriel was quick to leap from the open door, the wooden porch creaking underneath his feet as he hopped down the stairs. “Stay with me, Gab!” Walter called, locking the door behind him as Gabriel let out an annoyed murmur.

Walter led him to a trail surrounded by trees and bushes on each side. It was a little bit cold, but the sun was just now shining and gave off some warmth that graced his face. He tried to ignore the crunching leaves from Walter walking beside him as he kept his face turned away from him, trying to imagine walking through the forest by himself.

“Gabriel! Look!” Walter called, taking his arm in his pointing over to a hill. At the top stood a proud fox, the orange fur lit up with a yellow highlight from the shining sunrise behind it. Gabriel's eyes shone bright as he watched the fox leap away with grace, Walter let out a heartfelt chuckle when he saw Gabriel's expression. This really was what he needed today.

What made the walk even better was Gabriel was so lost in thought he forgot to rip himself from Walters grasp when he took his arm. Walter's smile went from ear to ear as he held his arm with adoration as they walked continued down the trail. Gabriel perked up when running water could be heard in the distance. He glanced around curiously trying to find it.

“Hang on, we’re getting there.” Walter said, checking to make sure he was still bundled warm enough. They came to a large hill with water pouring down into a creek flowing through the forest. Over the creek was an old beautiful wooden bridge with an overhang with tables and chairs. Walter didn’t even look at it, he looked into Gabriel’s eyes that were wide as he took in every detail of the scene.

“I built this when I was younger. I had way too much time on my hands back then.” He chuckled.

“You still do.” Gabriel mumbled under his breath. He almost hoped he didn’t hear it, but the sound of Walter’s dying laughter said as much. “I was so proud of it, I spent all day, even some nights just chopping down wood, carving it. I had so much fun building it.” His voice trailed off as he was flooded with memories. “I just… I always wished I could have shared it with someone. When I finally put that last nail in, I had no one to tell. No one to share it with.” His voice was quiet with a rasp as he stared mindlessly at the beautiful scene in front of him.

‘B-but… Now I h-have you.” He sniffled. Gabriel made a double take as his eyes shot up. Was he… Was he crying?!

He was…

Walter sniffed as he quickly wiped his tears away. “I’m just really happy someone gets to enjoy it. At least I hope you do.” He muttered. He cleared his throat as he tried to quickly change the mood. “*Ehem!* Lets get seated before this breakfast gets any colder now, shall we?” He cheered as he took his arm and walked him onto the bridge.

Gabriel's stomach felt like it was torn and twisted in a knot, his heart felt heavy as his feelings were conflicted. He hated, hated this man, but he also couldn't help but to feel sorry for him.

Walter pulled a chair out for him and pushed him up to the table, setting the picnic basket down on the table and putting out a plate for each of them. They both got a healthy portion of bacon and eggs, Walter paused for a moment when he heard Gabriel crunching away on the bacon. He glanced over as Gabriel, for the first time, happily chomped into a bite without having to be threatened to eat first.

For some reason, the food tasted so much better out in the fresh air compared to the stuffy cabin. Walter kept shooting curious glances at Gabriel to make sure he was still enjoying himself and looked happy. After he finished the last bite of his bacon, Walter looked up at him and did a double glance when he realized Gabriel was sitting with his chin resting on his knuckles watching the waterfall with a small smile on his face.

@alien-octopus @yesthisiswhump @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry @whump-it @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ Thank you for reading!

#whump #whumpee #whumper #parental whumper #intimate whumper #overprotective whumper #possessive whumper #kind whumper #whump writing #whump stories #captive whumpee #whump angst #be a good guest

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

From A Whisper To A Scream (7/10)

Summary: Michael caves.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: syringes, blood, etc

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

ao3

Coach pulled Michael aside after debatably the worst game of his life.

“What’s going on with you?” he demanded.

Michael stared at him, blinking slowly as he tried to reorient his mind. Ever since he discovered that Eff was really a Manes, that this “family business” they had was torturing aliens, he hadn’t been functioning very well. It’d only gotten worse after Alex called him out and Michael couldn’t tell him no, suddenly having to balance a very hush-hush relationship on top of everything else. He adored him, but fuck. Now he was just paranoid and tired. That was it. Everything else, every other feeling or brain wave, fell to the wayside because he didn’t have the energy.

That meant playing a shitty game of football where he nearly broke his nose from tripping over the ball.

“I’m just… off day,” Michael said, avoiding eye contact as he took out his mouthguard. He then moved to start taking off his jersey and his shoulder pads. He usually wouldn’t do that while in the middle of the conversation with his Coach, but they felt ridiculously heavy and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay upright with them.

“Off month, more like it,” Coach said, eyeing him, “You know you’re my responsibility, right?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” he said. Michael stayed silent. He couldn’t tell him what was actually going on and he didn’t have the brainpower to come up with a good lie. “Is this about anything that happened with your whole… coming out process? You’d tell me if any of the guys were messing with you, wouldn’t you? And if it’s your dad that ain’t responding well, then I can have a talk with him too.”

Michael blinked at him and it took him a few seconds to realize he had tears in his eyes. It wasn’t even a heartfelt speech, it was just too much. Too much to know another person cared about him enough to say something, too much to know that his list of people who would be hurt by his stupidity was a bit longer. He was beginning to think that maybe he should just tell everyone he was an alien so they’d stop giving a shit about him.

“It’s fine, I’m just off. Distracted,” Michael said. Coach didn’t look satisfied.

“You got scouts out there,” he said, “So you better stop being distracted.”

And that sounded a lot more like Coach.

When Michael walked out to his truck, he found that it was already preoccupied. It wasn’t too uncommon for him to find a Manes in his passenger seat. This just happened to be the Manes he was dreading.

“I thought you were good,” Eff said as Michael carefully climbed into the driver’s seat. It felt like a trick, but maybe he could drive off a cliff and fix everything. Ah, but that was just wishful thinking.

“I am,” Michael said, “Usually.”

“Guess you should’ve thought about that before you tried to corrupt my baby brother,” Eff said. Michael stared out the window and made a point not to say anything about how Eff had been screwing him over before he realized he was with Alex. He seemed to momentarily forget that this had all started because Michael was born. That was it.

“Shed?”

“Yep.”

Michael stayed silent through the drive as he had been these days. For a while there, he’d sort of accepted his fate and was starting to be a bit more talkative. Hell, he’d even gotten to a point where he thought Eff might give a shit about his well being. Now he knew that was just wishful thinking. Every conversation they had that may have given the illusion that Eff didn't hate him was just a figment of his imagination.

“Is your dad gonna question where you are?” Eff asked. Is yours? Michael thought.

“No,” he said instead.

Eff huffed a laugh, “My dad would kick my ass if I showed up later than I said.” It almost felt childish at that point, like Eff was trying to get him in trouble with his dad. It was so stupid.

The longer Michael drove, the more he thought that perhaps he shouldn’t be driving. His eyes were heavy and each blink seemed harder to come out of. Still, he somehow made it to the shed without driving off the road.

They entered the shed in silence and Michael sat on his chair-of-hell where all of his injections and electrocutions took place. Maybe whatever Eff had in store would wake him up.

“Here,” Eff said. Michael lulled his head to the side to look at him, seeing him holding out an energy drink that had already been opened.

“Did you poison it or something?” Michael asked. Eff laughed softly.

“No, just drink it,” he said. Michael hesitantly accepted it and took a sip, deciding that if it was poisoned he wouldn’t really care. Eff sat down across from him and stared at him for a moment. Somehow, it was infinitely less uncomfortable than all the times Michael looked over his shoulder in school and expected to see him there when he wasn’t. “Look, I hate even saying this, but credit where credit is due. I appreciate you ending shit with my brother. Alex is great, I get it, and it took balls to break up with him when I know he probably didn't make it easy."

Michael felt a bit frozen in his spot. That was an understatement. Such a massive understatement that Michael hadn't been able to pull it off at all.

"I don't like knowing that aliens have, like, feelings and shit," Eff continued, looking to the side as if this conversation was just that unbearable. And he had no idea how unbearable it was for Michael himself. "But I do know you care about him which I can respect. But that shit's not safe, not with you being what you are and not with my dad being who he is. You get that, don't you?"

"Why does it feel like you're being nice to me?" Michael asked. He was beginning to wonder if he really had no self-preservation skills at all. Eff rolled his eyes.

"You just picked the wrong guy. I wanted to keep Alex away from all this," Eff elaborated, "So pick someone else."

Somehow, as genuine as he sounded, it still felt like a low blow. Michael couldn't pick someone else. Even if he had broken up with Alex, even if he never liked him in the first place, he was still a personal experiment for Eff. Anyone who got close to him wasn't safe. So that was that.

"Yeah," Michael said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Michael sipping tiredly on his drink and Eff just watching him like he was trying to decide where to start. Who knew what kind of shit he had up his sleeve that he hadn't done yet.

Eff eventually stood up in silence and Michael's eyes followed him, watching him open up the small mini-fridge and pull out a vile of something. Dread pooled in Michael's stomach. He wasn't sure what Eff had dosed him with that time where it had him fucked up for a solid week, but he wasn't interested in a repeat.

"When's the last time you slept?" Eff asked. Michael shrugged because he didn't have a proper answer. He slept all the time, but he wasn't sure the 10-minute sleep session due to sheer exhaustion before he woke himself up in a panic actually counted as sleep. "Yeah, that's a problem. This is gonna help you sleep."

"Here?" Michael asked, eyes widening just a little.

"Does it look like I have a place for you to sleep? Take it and I'll take you home, it should kick in by the time you get to bed and it'll knock you out for, like, eight hours," Eff said. Michael didn't have the energy to say no. Sleeping for eight hours straight sounded amazing.

He turned his head as Eff rolled up his sleeve and wiped the spot of his arm like he was actually concerned for him. He stuck him with a syringe and Michael could feel the moment it started to set in.

"I'm driving," Eff said as if that wasn't already obvious.

Michael tried to stand to his feet, but he felt woozy and held onto the chair to steady himself. Eff eventually stepped up to him and grabbed his arm, carrying the brunt of his weight.

"Jesus, what did my brother see in you?"

Eff got him into the passenger side of his truck and closed the door and Michael couldn't find it in himself to care that Eff was driving his truck. He was just tired.

The drive home passed in a blur and Michael felt himself being pulled out of his truck before he could even register it. He leaned on Eff without thought and let himself be all but carried inside and placed in bed by the man who had made it his goal to torture him. He was covered up and his keys were placed on his desk and the doors were all locked back.

Michael fell into a dreamless sleep for the first time in a long time.

The next morning, Michael was left running over the night before in his head.

Truly, none of it made sense. Eff wasn't just empathetic like he'd been on occasions when he realized Michael had feelings, he'd actually been kind. Was it his small payback for Michael ending things with Alex? Was it something else entirely? He probably wouldn't get an answer.

Michael stayed in bed for a while, letting his mind torture him with too many thoughts as he tried to analyze Eff's actions. It didn't work. And, in fact, the sleep didn't help him feel any better. It just made him alert enough to be back to panicking. There were so many things that could and would go bad. He was on borrowed time. Before he knew it, shit would hit the fan and he just wasn't excited for that.

Sanders kept quiet, just watching him and making sure he didn't become a disaster before his eyes. The day slid by at an agonizing pace. But it was fine.

He texted Alex a little bit--through an app instead of on his actual phone which had taken more than a little convincing than he wanted to admit, but he wasn't about to risk Eff finding out.

Alex: you ignoring me again?

Michael: no, how could I?

Alex: big talk coming from you

Michael: :(

Alex: when can I see you? I feel like I've earned at least a couple blowjobs

Alex: payback for being a dick to me

Michael: I'll do whatever you want. Maybe we can meet up somewhere tomorrow night?

Alex: my dad isn't going to be home until Tuesday just sneak in

Michael: idk if that's a good idea

Alex: okay.

Michael: don't be mad

Alex: not mad, all I said was okay

Michael: which is code for mad.

Alex: okay.

Michael: I'll see what I can do. I miss you

Alex: I miss you too

And it was fine. Alex got a little less upset and it was fine. Or it was until he got a text from Eff. All it said was: Rest. Tomorrow is a full-day affair. And that was enough to scare the shit out of him.

He didn't know what classified as a full-day affair to Eff, but it didn't matter. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. It was going to be a day of misery. How many more things could he get through and survive it?

As much as he tried to rest, it didn't work. Michael was nervous and dreading whatever was to come. By the time morning came around once again and that car was outside waiting for him, Michael hadn't slept.

"Are you ready?" Eff asked as he mindlessly climbed into the passenger seat. He took a deep breath.

"Yeah."

"Michael. Michael, wake up."

There were very few times in Michael's life where he'd describe himself as overworked. Out of all of those times, he'd never drained himself to the point that he passed out. He supposed there was a first time for everything.

When his eyes slowly dragged open, he was more than a little surprised to see Eff over him and almost looking concerned. It almost had him laughing if he wasn't so disoriented.

"You can't fucking die on me yet," Eff said once he opened his eyes. Michael didn't move. His body felt weak and he was pretty sure his muscles had melted into the ground. He wanted to go home.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"You've only been doing shit for a couple of hours, you've strained yourself more than this before. That sedative I gave you on Friday shouldn't still be in your system," Eff said. He grabbed Michael's arms and hauled him into a sitting position, but Michael couldn't hold his own weight up and Eff eventually let him lay back down. "What are you good for if you're just going to let yourself be this useless?"

Michael's eyes slid closed and he tried to think of anything except for this.

He expected more scolding, more yelling, possibly an injection of whatever sort of wild alien steroid he had today. Instead, Eff pressed the back of his hand against Michael’s forehead then to his cheeks. He might’ve opened his eyes to look at him like he’d lost it if he wasn’t so fucking exhausted.

“You’re overheated. Your nose bled a little, but not as much as I would’ve expected before you passed out, so I guess that’s a good thing. We’ll take a break,” Eff said, voice careful. He stood up and walked away, leaving Michael on the floor.

Sometimes, if Michael really thought about it, he wondered if Eff knew that he was basically making him stronger. Yes, draining him in the moment and making him feel weak and out of control, but Michael had never had someone push his limits before when it came to this. Maybe if Michael played nice, he’d be able to overpower him one day, hide the body, and get his normal life back. He could. It was an option.

It was an option. Huh. That was nice.

A hand grabbed the back of Michael’s neck, supporting him as he was dragged into a sitting position once again. That hand stayed there as a cup of water met his lips and he was all but forced to drink. He had a million questions running through his head, all tying back to wondering why the hell Eff was treating him nicely all of the sudden. Maybe he actually felt bad for once. Probably not.

“If you die, my brother will probably be more upset than he already is, so I’m gonna need you to drink,” Eff said dryly. Michael obeyed.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Eff let him rest for a short amount of time before dragging him outside again to push his limits again. A little electrotherapy here, a bit of pinpricks there, and he had Michael throwing shit with his telekinesis over three hundred pounds. Michael would’ve been proud if his body wasn’t aching and his brain wasn’t pointless.

When he finally got to go home and the day settled in, Michael was back to being a mess. Eff was being nice to him. Too nice. He was planning something, he had to be. Was he going to kidnap him anyway? Was this just the beginning of the end, trying to make him trust him?

Michael forgot all about meeting up with Alex until he found himself outside his window which would’ve been a lot less worrisome if he remembered anything in between leaving the shed and ending up there. Even when he tried to remember, he couldn’t.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to come over,” Alex said, leaning against the windowsill and blocking Michael’s way in.

Truthfully, Michael had only been to Alex’s house a total of two times, both just to stop by so Alex could grab something and they didn’t stay long. Now knowing what kind of business his family was in, Michael was glad he hadn’t stayed. And yet, today, all he wanted was to be in Alex’s bed. He was going to get fucked over anyway.

“Can you just hold me for a while?” Michael asked. Any sort of antagonizing Alex had in mind went away and he nodded, moving out of the way. Michael climbed in and nearly fell twice in the process, not even able to laugh it off when he needed Alex’s help.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Michael was pulled into Alex’s arms. His head was cradled against Alex’s shoulder, he was tugged down onto his bed, he was held and he was warm and he was safe. Safe enough. As safe as he would get.

They laid there for a long while, nothing but the sound of their breathing as Alex combed through his hair. Michael faded in and out of consciousness at the sensation, secretly hoping to just let his mind fade away forever into the feeling. That would be a good way to go.

But, then again, he couldn’t have anything nice.

“Michael,” Alex whispered, “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Michael didn’t respond, but his grip on Alex tightened a little and that seemed to be all Alex needed to know there was, in fact, something going on. He readjusted himself a little and touched Michael’s cheek. It took a few seconds to successfully get him to meet his eyes.

“I’m not stupid. Something’s been going on, but I’ve stayed quiet. How much longer are you gonna leave me having to assume? Because my assumptions are getting wilder,” Alex said, trying to tease a little to lighten the mood.

The issue was the truth was wild. How do you tell your boyfriend you’re actually an alien from the 1940s and you’re currently being used as an experiment by his big brother who he loves? Alex would laugh in his face or just leave him. Or maybe Eff was wrong and Alex did know and Alex would start experimenting on him too. He could take a lot, but he didn’t think he could take that.

Michael sniffled and focused on Alex’s collarbone, reaching out to touch it. He ran his fingers over it a few times and hoped Alex would just drop it.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Alex said softly, “But you know you can trust me, don’t you? I’m not going to hate you or be disgusted by you or anything. I might even be able to help?”

Michael’s throat began to tighten and he swallowed hard. He thought about Eff and his weird niceness and how he’d probably make him disappear soon, how Michael probably didn’t have much time left with Alex at all. How did he get in the position where he once had all the time in the world to having none at all?

He dragged his hand up to touch Alex’s lips. They were as soft as always and his breath was warm against his fingertips. He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed him. Hell, he could barely remember the last time they’d been able to spend this much time together in person. Then again, this had been one of the longest weeks of his life. Longest few months. Or, just nothing before it felt real.

Michael moved up to give him a kiss, one that was hardly a kiss at all and seemed to only be reciprocated because of how long it’d been. Alex broke it seconds after it started, shaking his head.

“Michael,” he whispered, “You‒”

“I love you,” Michael said earnestly.

Alex let out a shaky breath. It shouldn’t have been such a hard thing to say and he probably could’ve said it sooner. He knew most of the people he’d been friends with who said ‘I love you’ within the first month of dating someone‒the first week, even.

This just happened to be a bit more serious than that.

“I’m not saying that because of… I’m saying it because I mean it. Because I don’t know when or if I’ll get to tell you later. I want you to know just in case,” Michael said. Alex’s eyebrows only tugged together more and he scooted closer.

“Just in case? What do you mean? What’s going on?” Alex said, worry lacing his soft and sweet voice. God, he was so good. He couldn’t possibly know. He couldn’t possibly be in on the bullshit his family enacted.

“I should go.”

“What? No, stop,” Alex said, his knee wedging between Michael’s thighs to lock his leg around his at a weak attempt to keep in place. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Michael said, relaxing back into his bed. He was too tired to really try to leave even if he wanted to. And he really, really didn’t.

“It’s obviously not nothing and you’re freaking me out,” Alex said, looking him over, “I was assuming it was something to do with your adoption or something and you were playing it straight for your social worker, but that’s obviously not it.”

Michael sighed and blinked slowly, tempted to just keep his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Alex was just staring at him.

“Next assumption was that you got into drugs. Have you? And if you have, let me help you,” Alex pressed, “Let me and your dad help you. You know he asked me what was wrong with you, right? Like, everyone’s noticed. So, just, like, stop talking like you’re never going to see me again. Let me fix it.”

Michael laughed dryly and turned his face into the pillow before he started crying where Alex could see. What was it with Alex and Sanders both being so eager to fix what they had no hand in? It didn’t make sense.

“Did you like accidentally fuck over a drug dealer or something and that’s why you’ve been staying away from me and distant and paranoid? Because we can go to the police and, and figure it out,” Alex continued, “You’re worrying me and I don’t like it.”

Michael took a few breaths until he could trust that his voice wasn’t going to embarrass him. “I’m not doing or dealing drugs and I haven’t pissed off any drug dealers.”

“Then what is it?”

“What happened to not pushing?” Michael murmured. Alex didn’t respond as he let his head hit the pillow.

They laid in silence for a bit longer, tension between them that wasn’t there before. Michael should just tell him. What was the worst that could happen? He was already living in the worst timeline, he might as well just say it.

But that was easier said than done. It was something he needed to talk to Isobel and Max about‒if he could even talk to Isobel and Max without anything bad happening. The idea of it made him feel like he was being choked. Everything made him feel like that recently.

Alex’s hand suddenly touched the back of his neck and Michael was brutally hit with the comparison to the feeling of his brother’s hand on his neck. Eff was rough and firm while Alex’s touch was soft and warm. He wouldn’t mind if that touch stayed there indefinitely. And it seemed to stay there for a while, simply working into his neck.

When Alex pulled his leg away from Michael’s, he almost broke the silence to say something to keep him there. But Alex was pulling Michael onto his stomach and climbing onto his back before he had the chance. His hands worked into the multitude of weeks worth of tension in his shoulders and his neck, carefully trying to make him pliant under his fingers. Michael wasn’t sure it’d work, but he wasn’t going to tell him no.

The longer that went on, however, the more Michael found himself feeling guilty. He was a shitty boyfriend. He tried to think of the last nice thing he’d done for Alex out of the sea of nice things Alex had done for him. Sure, Michael was going through his own shit, but he was letting Alex worry and pushing him away and then letting Alex take care of him after it all. This wasn’t what he had in mind when he thought about getting Alex for real. It was supposed to be Alex parading around in his letterman jacket, it was supposed to be racking up tardy slips because he was late after blowing Alex in his truck, it was supposed to be good.

And Alex had stayed good. Michael was the one who was fucking him over.

“Alex,” Michael said softly. He hummed in question, pressing into a knot in between his shoulders that nearly had him crying all over again. “Alex, what would you say if I told you the truth?”

Alex paused for just a moment before getting back to it.

“I already told you.”

“Even if I say I’m an alien and there’s a guy who found out and is basically using me as a science experiment and I can’t do anything about it because he’s got military connections and I can’t go to the cops because, again, alien,” Michael said in one breath, half into the pillow. Alex stopped for a much longer moment this time.

“That’s not funny,” Alex said softly.

“I didn’t think it was.”

More silence, more breathing, more waiting. Michael was sure he was going to be thrown out of his house. It was the logical next step.

“Science experiment?” Alex asked slowly. Michael nodded. “Like, cuts you open?”

Michael huffed a laugh, “Not yet, thank god.” Alex didn’t laugh. “Usually sticking needles into pressure points that set off shit in me and electrocution. Sometimes injects me with, like, alien steroid type things.”

“Michael.”

“Could be worse, though, ‘cause he hasn’t cut me open,” Michael said. Alex made a pained little noise and then laid on Michael’s back. It was distinctly different than being kicked out. “Aren’t you freaked out? I’m an alien.”

“I’ve had sex with you and I didn’t find a zipper,” Alex murmured into the back of his neck. Michael breathed a sigh of relief that mixed with a laugh. If more tears came, they met the pillow immediately. “Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

“Alex, you can’t‒”

“I can,” Alex said firmly, “Give me a few days to come up with something.”

Michael didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Later, he’d find a way to tell Alex that wasn’t an option. Currently, though, he’d stay right here.

Here, he was safe and warm and that’s all he cared about.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #verse: from a whisper to a scream

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

A Weary Winter Night

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, Death

Author’s Note: DAY 10 PEOPLE. DAY 10 OF THE CHRISTMAS FICS. LET’S GOOOOOOO! ENJOY! -Thorne

“How many inches do you reckon it snowed, Ratonhnhaké:ton?”

He didn’t look over his shoulder as he unwound the trap from the fox’s neck starting to skin it. “Possibly a foot and a half.” He eyed her as she squatted beside him. “Maybe more.”

She watched the steam rise from the fox’s internal organs. “So, I’ve never actually asked, but can you even eat…fox?” Her face pinched with displeasure.

Connor chuckled as he worked. “You can, but the meat is very tough.” His amber eyes drifted to hers. “Would you like to try it, (Y/N)?”

She pulled a face and shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll stick to animals that don’t make me cry when I think about eating them.”

He hummed and stood to his feet. “Is that why you do not eat rabbit?”

“They’re cute!” (Y/N) protested. “And fluffy and cuddly! How can you eat them?!”

“Because they are food?” he said in confusion and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god.” She complained. “I can’t believe you’d eat such an adorable animal.”

Connor promptly ignored her further complaints as they ventured deeper into the forest, out to a pond. He bent down and pulled out his tomahawk, cracking a small hole in the ice so he could wash his hands clean of the blood. A barely audible hiss passed his lips at the frigid temperature, and he was quick to finish before looking up at her.

(Y/N) was staring off into the distance, eyes directed at the moon rising in the distance. Something was on her mind, he could tell.

“Otsi’tsa?” She glanced down and smiled. “Are you well?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just thinking about how long it’d take to get back or if we should play it safe and find somewhere to hunker down for the night.”

He rose and looked behind them. “We are at least five miles from the Homestead.” They met each other’s gazes and he nodded. “We should find shelter.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the trail. “I saw a cave about a hundred feet off the pathway earlier. Marked it with the ribbon around one of the gray birches.” Her eyes shifted back to the lowering sun. “If we hurry, we can find it before nightfall.”

Connor nodded. “Then let us away.” He turned, but paused, holding out his hand to her.

She quirked an eyebrow and he felt his cheeks warm. “I do not wish for you to fall.”

“Suuuuure,” she ribbed, grinning when his cheeks flushed an even darker shade of crimson, and he pulled his hood lower on his head.

***

It took about an hour, but that was all the day needed to shift into night, casting a dark indigo hue across the sky. (Y/N) breathed heavily, watching her breath come out in a cloud of wisps as she heaved herself through the boundless snow. The red ribbon appeared in her gaze and she squeezed Connor’s hand.

“There it is,” she nodded. “The cave should be just past here.”

She knew Connor was exhausted, just by his response, a quiet grunt, and she couldn’t help but murmur, “Sorry, I know you’re tired, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Just a little while longer.”

“I am fine, (Y/N). Do not worry.” He replied, letting go of her hand to gently untie the ribbon. His gaze drifted to her. “Besides, if you did not mention this, we would still be searching for shelter.”

She offered him a heartfelt smile and headed for the cave. As she neared it, she raised her flintlock and fired a single shot, no doubt scaring off anything in the cave and around it. She knew she certainly scared Connor, because he appeared in her vision with a frown on his face.

(Y/N) holstered the gun. “What?” His eyes narrowed. “I was just making sure there wasn’t anything inside.”

Connor didn’t respond, simply heading inside. After a moment, he called for her.

“It is safe. Come in, (Y/N).”

She lowered her hood and stepped inside, immediately whacking her head on the ceiling of the cave. “Fucker!” she yelped, bending over to grab her forehead. “That hurt!”

A snort sounded beside her, and she whipped her head up, this time careful to avoid the ceiling. “Stop laughing, Ratonhnhaké:ton! Shame on you!”

His lips pulled upwards and he softly cradled her face, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I am not laughing at you,” he murmured. “You mistake my sound of concern for laughter.”

(Y/N) glared at him, but she felt her lips rise as well. “Sounds like laughter to me, big-guy.”

She felt him smile against her skin as he pressed one last kiss before pulling away. “Good as new.”

She scoffed and prodded the bump growing. “Say that in the morning when I’ve got a bruise up there and a knot the size of a grenade.” He chuckled and she nodded to the back. “I’ll make a fire. You work on setting up a bedding.”

Spinning on her heel, he caught her arm before she left. “Let me do that. You should stay.”

(Y/N) leaned over and pecked his lips, but then grabbed him by the waist and spun him around. “Go. You’re exhausted. I can gather wood.”

Connor looked over his shoulder at her, and a firm nod of her head made him sigh and concede. “As you wish, (Y/N).”

She huffed a laugh at the way his shoulders seemed to droop but was relieved when he sat down and started unwinding his pack. Turning back around, she headed for the entrance of the cave and out into the night.

***

She searched for a good forty minutes, having to dig deep and climb higher for dry branches, but she managed to gather an armful that would at least last them a full three or four hours.

Her feet and back ached with a rage as she made her way back to the cave and all she could think about was diving into her bedroll and sleeping for as long as her body would allow.

Following her trailed footsteps back, she was about fifty yards from the cave when she crossed the path of a cougar. Shock filled her and before she could stop herself, the firewood fell to her feet, signaling the beast to look at her, and hiss menacingly.

(Y/N) stared at the canines and silently cursed herself for not reloading her flintlock when she had the chance earlier. She carefully reached for the hatchet at her side—something told her she was going to need it. The mountain lion seemed to know it as well because it screamed fiercely at her, almost making her step back in fear, but Connor’s teachings echoed in her mind: stand your ground.

Her fingers tightened around the grip and she twirled the hatchet in her hand, and sidestepped, the cougar following in a similar fashion. They circled one another and if the situation hadn’t been so dire, she would’ve made a joke about what a deadly dance it was becoming between them.

She barely had moments to react before the cat sprang, and she dove just in time to avoid the swipe of its heavy paw. (Y/N) reacted as it hit the ground, kicking out her leg as hard as she could. Her boot connected with the cougar’s side, sending it sprawling over, but that anecdote that all cat’s land on their feet was proven true, because it jumped back up and came at her—and this time, she didn’t have room to move out of the way.

It jumped and she raised her arm, letting out a scream of pain when the mountain lion sunk its teeth into her gloved wrist, clawed paws swiping at her. The weight was too much for her to bear and her knees went out underneath her, the hatchet falling from her grip.

(Y/N) yelled as the cougar’s mouth clamped tighter around her wrist, and the bones felt like they were going to snap. She curled her free hand into a fist and swung as brutally as she could manage, hitting the mountain lion in the face. It didn’t let her go, but she kept swinging, and connecting with its face until it did. It finally let go and hissed, but it was all the time she needed to yank her arm back and shove with all her might.

The cat leaped away, and she rolled over, scrambling for the hatchet. Her fingers curled around it but the scream coming her way told her she was out of time. (Y/N) shut her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

A gunshot sounded from behind her and a pitiful groan followed by a loud thump made her eyes snap open. She caught sight of the cougar laying in a blooming crimson puddle and she looked over her shoulder, seeing Connor standing there, the flintlock still smoking in his hand.

She couldn’t contain the sob that left her. “Ratonhnhaké:ton!” she cried, and he holstered the gun, sprinting to her.

He skidded to a halt and knelt down. “Where are you hurt?” he asked, and she raised her arm.

“Everywhere.” She whispered. “But this…is the worst of it.” (Y/N) yelped when he took hold of it.

“Sorry.” He murmured and she shook her head.

“Don’t—ow—don’t worry.” She nodded at it. “How bad?”

Connor started to unclip the leather gauntlet. When he had her glove off, he frowned. “He broke the skin, but I do not think he broke any bones.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but it dissolved into a hiss. “Shit, it feels like he did.” She pulled her arm back and cradled it to her chest, staggering to her feet, Connor fretting the entire time.

She shook her head and nodded to the pile of wood sprawled out a few feet away. “C’mon, gather the firewood so we can start one in the cave.”

“I need to tend to your wound, (Y/N).” he entreated, but she was firm.

“And in order to do that, you need light.” She bent over and grabbed a stick but dropped it and reached for her arm. “Fucker.” She cursed, blood smearing across her arm.

“Go to the cave. I will collect the wood.” Connor decided, and not having the energy to argue, she nodded, trudging back to the cave.

***

It took him a few minutes to get the fire good and going, but once he did, he made her sit beside it, cleaning the wound in silence. He smeared a rather foul-smelling mixture along her wound before sealing it with a clean linen wrap. Though it was finished, he didn’t remove his hands, he just kept staring at it.

(Y/N) watched the fire dance along his face, casting shadows on his features and she leaned close, pressing her forehead to his. “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.

Connor didn’t speak for a moment. “…I should have gone out to collect the wood.”

“We couldn’t have known that a cougar would be out tonight.”

He shook his head. “I should have seen the signs.” His face pinched, and such a self-loathing tone came out of him. “I should have seen the markings along the trees as we came. You got hurt because of my ignorance.”

(Y/N) winced as she pulled her arm back and cradled his face. “Look at me.” He didn’t and she ran her thumb under his eye. “Ratonhnhaké:ton, look me in the eyes.”

Finally, his amber eyes met hers and she said, “You were tired.” He opened his mouth to respond, but her free hand slipped, covering it. “If you had gone out there, that cougar might’ve killed you before I could’ve gotten there.”

Connor’s eyes went wide, and she felt tears gather in hers; she swallowed the lump in her throat, breathing, “Don’t you know how devastated I would’ve been if I couldn’t’ve gotten to you as fast as you did me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed and through her own tears, she saw his eyes fill with them. Connor lowered his head and (Y/N) curled her arms around his neck, careful of her injured one.

“I am sorry,” he lamented, and she shook her head, brushing a hand through his dark hair.

“Don’t be. We’re both here. Both safe now.” She said, pulling away to look at him once more. She wiped his cheeks, then he did the same to her, ever so gentle as if she were made of the most precious gemstones.

Connor leaned towards her, resting his forehead to hers. “Konnorónhkwa.”

(Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief, smiling softly. “I love you too.”

#connor kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader imagine #connor kenway x reader imagines #connor kenway imagine #connor kenway imagines #connor kenway #ac3 #ac3 imagine #ac3 imagines #assassins creed 3 #assassins creed 3 imagines #assassins creed 3 imagine #ac imagines #ac imagine #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #Ratonhnhaké:ton

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banashee · 3 years

Link

5 Times Jon and Martin hug +1 time they kiss

The first time Martin and Jon hug - or more precisely, the first time Martin hugs Jon - it is a response to the fact that they’re still alive more than anything else. It’s after Jane Prentiss’ attack, after Martin finds the body of Gertrude Robinson down in the tunnels.

Everyone is a bit worse for wear, which isn’t surprising after everything. The whole institute is full of dead worms and police, so there is little time to think of anything else until the worst of the storm has calmed.

It’s only after, when Jon asks Martin for his statement about the incident that everything hits him at once.

“I’m sorry I left you. I thought you and Tim were right behind me…” The guilt about almost losing the two of them eats on Martin, and when he looks up at Jon, he is surprised to see that his eyes have softened more than he’s ever seen on him.

“Martin, it’s not your fault.” Carefully, as if unsure if he even should, Jon reaches out over the desk in an attempt to comfort, and Martin takes his hand and squeezes without thinking about it, grateful to have something besides a cold, hard table or the edges of his chair to hold onto.

He is also starting to tear up - great. As if today hasn’t sucked enough already, now he’s about to cry at work, too. But Jon… Is unusually patient. He waits for him to finish his statement and doesn’t push more than absolutely necessary.

Once the recording is done, he looks him in the eye, and thanks him again for letting him record this statement.

“Thank you, Martin. And, I suppose, I am glad that you are alright. I was… worried when you weren’t with us anymore.”

“I was worried about you, too. Both of you. I-'' Ah, great, now he really is crying in front of Jon. Martin wishes for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, but Jon doesn’t comment on that. He simply waits for Martin to calm down or leave or… Whatever he chooses to do next, reall, he doesn’t know.

To both their surprise, after Martin wipes over his face with one of his sleeves, he pulls Jon into a quick but heartfelt hug. The man feels stiff like a board and thin as bones in his arms, but after the first second of surprise, he hesitatingly hugs back.

“I am glad that you are okay.” he repeats quietly, and when Martin hurries out of the room after they let go, Jon looks after him, hoping that he really is alright. Or at least, will be alright.

There is a lot he would have liked to say, or do, but as always, there seems to be a blockage in his head that stops him from doing so.

It is late at night and Jon doesn’t think there is anyone still in the office. Yes, Martin is still in the Archives, but that is because he currently lives here. However, it is getting late and he is probably in the storage room and asleep by now, so that doesn’t really count, does it?

Jon wants to keep going, because he is having too many thoughts to calm down, but he is also exhausted. He doesn’t remember when he last got a decent night of sleep, or whatever counts as such ever since he started working down in the Archives. Sleep has always been a difficult subject to him, but it is even more so now.

Jon is cold almost all the time lately. He doesn’t sleep well as it is, but there is also something about this whole job, this whole situation, that leaves him nervous and shivering. Truth be told, he is afraid. More afraid than he is willing to admit, his short heart-to-heart with Martin when the worms attacked aside.

But even then, he had been unwilling to get into any more details. Trusting people, being vulnerable - it is an almost foreign concept to Jon, as much as he would like to be closer to the others.

He’s been holding himself back, trying to keep them at arm's length, for everyone's safety. But ever since Jane Prentiss’ attack, ever since he realized how much he really cares about Martin, Tim and Sasha when he’d feared for their lives, this particular plan had started to fail more and more.

Jon sighs, rubbing his tired and itching eyes under the glasses. There are slight tremors running through his entire body. Maybe he should get some tea, warm up and then see. He didn’t have a lunch break, because he keeps forgetting these things, so maybe it might help.

Jon sighs, then he slowly gets up from the seat by his desk. His recently injured leg is still hurting, and he knows he should give it a rest. He knows he should let it heal properly, but he’s always been bad at taking care of himself. Besides, what is he supposed to do at home? Sit there and wait for something terrible to happen while everyone else is stuck here? No, he’d really rather not.

When Jon steps out of his office, he is surprised to find that there is a faint light coming from the staff kitchen. Slowly, he steps closer to the room until he can see Martin. He is sitting at the kitchen table in an old t-shirt and what looks like green sweatpants with an ugly pattern, hunched over in his seat as he cradles a mug between his large hands. His hair is a mess, standing up in every direction, and he very much looks like somebody who tried and failed to sleep for quite some time.

Near him on the table, he can see the corkscrew and there is no doubt that there is one of the fire extinguishers in the room. Even though most of the worms are dead by now, old habits die hard, and it seems like these things help Martin feel a little bit safer.

Jon decides to say something now rather than later. He doesn’t want to startle the other man, and he also hopes that he wasn’t too loud while he worked.

“Oh, hi Martin. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Martin almost jumps out of his skin and his head whips over to the door where Jon is still standing. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting the company at this hour. As soon as he realizes who it is, Martin seems to relax a bit.

“Christ Jon, I didn’t - I had no idea you were still here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s fine, really. Can’t sleep, anyway... There’s tea in the pot, if you want any.” he adds, and nods over to said pot on the table.

“Thank you.” Jon pulls another mug from the cabinet and fixes himself a mug, grateful that he doesn’t have to fumble his way through preparing everything. Now that he thinks of it, his hands are shaky and he would probably pour boiling water all over himself or something of that nature.

Truth be told, he is rather grateful for the company.

“Can’t sleep, either?” Martin asks eventually, and Jon looks up at him. He isn’t sure what Martin sees, but he is pretty sure that it’s fresh scars, exhaustion, more grey hair and eye bags down to his knees, or something to that effect. Really, there is no denying it.

“Not really, no. Getting work done here… It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” Jon shrugs self-consciously and takes a sip of his tea. It’s warm and comforting, and it instantly calms his nerves. At least a little bit.

The two of them share a bit of comfortable silence as they drink, and eventually, Jon slumps sideways with a sigh, more even exhausted than he had been before.

His head lands against something warm, soft and sturdy, and he finds that he doesn’t mind that.

Martin looks up in surprise when he finds that Jon has actually fallen asleep right on the spot , leaning against his shoulder. A deep blush is creeping up his neck, but thankfully, it is in the middle of the night and there is no one else around to see the scene unfold.

Careful not to wake him, Martin attempts to keep drinking his tea, pointedly ignoring that Jon, who seems dead to the world, actually wraps both arms around his middle in his sleep.

Oh, Fuck.

Martin is screwed - well and fully screwed and he knows it.

When Jon wakes up later, he is stammering and apologizing profusely, clearly embarrassed about the whole situation. But despite everything, somehow, something between the two of them seems to click into place that night.

Another time, a little bit later down the line, Jon and Martin hug in the middle of the office. There is no specific reason, really, but truth be told, the two of them have grown closer and closer over the last few months and weeks.

When they hug, it very much looks like what Tim will amusedly call “The happy fork lift” while he watches the scene unfold with a fond grin. It doesn’t happen often that he gets to see a treat like this - because “forklift” is actually quite accurate for what’s happening here.

Okay, so Jon is short. That is not his fault, but the fact is, he barely reaches up to Martin's shoulder when both of them are standing up straight.

No one dares uttering the word “adorable” because for one, Jon is technically still their boss,

But, the thing is, Jon is short, and when Martin hugs him that night, happy and seemingly carefree for once, he lifts him straight off of his feet.

Tim may or may not be cackling in the background and Melanie may or may not be rolling her eyes at them.

Today, there is no specific reason for them to hug. It’s just - their week has gone well for once - or at least, as well as a week can go for them these days. They’re off for the weekend now, so maybe for once, they’re simply a couple of coworkers - friends now, really - who are about to leave and that’s it. Just a friendly “see-you-on-Monday”-hug, and well.

If both Jon and Martin cling on for just a second longer than they usually would, that’s between them.

It’s been way too long since they talked.

Jon has just come back to work, freshly out of coma and the world might just as well have gone on without him. It feels like that, sometimes.

Jon doesn’t feel like himself at all, even if you take aside the whole “back from the dead” thing. The truth is, Jon is lonely.

Georgie is barely talking to him anymore. Tim is dead, which hurts like hell, even though they had their troubles towards the end. It doesn’t mean they stopped caring. Jon wishes they could have talked things through one last time, because that’s what friends do, right?

Sadly, they never got the chance.

Daisy, Melanie and Basira are around, but that’s not really the same. Jon isn’t as close to them, like he used to be to Martin, Tim and Sasha. Sasha who has been dead for so long and none of them noticed it at the time. It hurts, just as much as losing Tim, and it feels just as fresh.

Martin is still here, but Jon hasn’t seen him since he came back.

Every time he hears a door open in the hallway, Jon finds himself jumping up from his seat, sprinting to the door just to see if he might have missed Martin. More often than not, it’s someone else. Until one day, by chance, he runs into him in the hallway.

“Martin! Hi!”

Martin looks up, and it looks like he is… Grey. Fading away, like he isn’t really here.

“It’s - it’s good to see you. We haven't talked in a while.” Jon is smiling at him, but Martin seems incapable to return it. There is something lost and sad about him, more so than usual - it’s his eyes, Jon realizes. Martin looks sad and empty, but he’s Martin and he’s missed him so much.

Without thinking, Jon steps closer and wraps his arms around the larger man in a hug that doesn’t get returned this time. Martin stands there, stiff and just as lost as before, and he feels cold. So cold. But he still smells the same, smells of tea and woolen jumpers and that one brand of shampoo that he’s been using for years. It is familiar and comforting, but at the same time, it feels wrong.

When Jon returns to his office and closes the door behind him, there is a thick lump forming in his throat. He doesn’t feel better at all.

They are standing on a foggy beach and Martin is freezing cold. He is even more faded away than before, as if he barely even exists anymore. Far away from everything and everyone around him.

When Jon finally reaches him, reaches out for him, he is afraid that he might not even be able to touch Martin at all. But when he reaches out, Martin's hand is ice cold, his skin clammy and crusted with salt.

They stand there in the middle of an empty beach, waves rolling lazily behind them as the thick white fog seems to swallow them whole.

“I was so alone.” Martin tells him, and his voice breaks. Jon closes the distance between them in a heartbeat, wrapping himself around the larger man as tightly as he can, trying to protect him from the world around them and everything that is trying to hurt him.

“Come on, let’s go home.” he quietly tells him, and after what feels like eternity, Martin agrees.

They keep holding hands the entire way to Martins apartment, throughout the night and the entire next day when they’re huddled together on a train, on their way to Scotland.

Martin wakes up warm, comfortable and with a mouthful of Jon’s hair. The man in question is cuddled up into his back, both arms and legs wrapped tightly around Martin, like an octopus. He does that quite a bit, and honestly, Martin can’t complain.

He loves all the small ways in which they can express their love to each other, and if one of the most “human cactus” people Martin has ever met in his entire life wants full-body-cuddles from him on a daily basis, who is he to deny him that?

Besides, it’s not like it’s a hardship. Martin loves these moments just as much, and he wonders sometimes how he ever managed to feel truly alive before he - they - could have this.

Martin is well aware that he’s got privileges that no one else would have with Jon. He knows he won’t ever sleep with him - well, not like that, anyway - and they have talked about this, about boundaries and wishes, everything important to them. They have found and developed their own ways to be close and show their love to one another, and it works. It just works.

“You’re like a small backpack.” Martin had joked once, and as a result got the treat of hearing Jon sleepily laugh into his shoulder. God, he loves hearing him laugh. It doesn’t happen nearly often enough, but, not without a sizable amount of pride, he noticed that Jon laughs a lot more now that they are together.

Martin attempts to pull the salt-and-pepper strands of Jons hair out of his mouth without waking the other man, and as always, it proves to be a real challenge.

Jon’s hair seems to have a life of its own, and it’s everywhere. Spread out over the pillows. In Martin’s face. In his own face - everywhere. Jon, oblivious to all of this, sighs in his sleep and tightens his hold around Martin, hands clasped around on his sleep-warm chest. Meanwhile, Martin carefully attempts to free himself from his boyfriend's hair.

‘I should braid it later ´, he thinks as he carefully tucks the rest of it away and gently scratches Jon’s scalp while he is at it.

Braiding his hair relaxes both of them, and Jon tends to lean into the touch like a cat, which is always a plus. Martin smiles as he allows himself to slowly wake up while he enjoys the warm company of his boyfriend. It’s been a while since either of them could sleep so peacefully, and even though it happens on borrowed time, they are determined to enjoy every minute of it.

After a little while later, Jon slowly stirs awake. His hold around Martin tightens for a moment, then he pushes his face into the crook of his neck.

“Good morning, my Love.” Martin says, fingers tracing along Jons forearms that are still wrapped around him. He smiles when he gets a kiss on his neck in response.

“Sleep well?” he asks then, and Jon stretches out his limbs while he remains wrapped around Martin. Cat. This man is a damn cat.

“Hmhm… Good morning, Love.”

Now that there is a bit more space, Martin used it to turn around and face Jon. He is half awake and smiling at him, as if Martin is the best thing he has ever seen. Truth be told, he is, and Jon is happier to have him than words can express.

Martin is his person, the love of his life. As hard as the last years and months have been on them, at least they have found each other, and that has to count for something, right?

More so than that, they’re comfortable with and around each other, in a way Jon hasn’t been around anyone in a very long time, or maybe ever. They know each other, good parts and bad parts alike.

They remain wrapped around each other for a bit, chest to chest this time, and Jon smiles a happy, loops smile when Martin presses a kiss on top of his head and then keeps stroking his hair, neck and back. His own hands are tracing small, invisible patterns on Martins back now, and the two of them thoroughly enjoy slowly waking up like this.

Neither of them has had a nightmare, which is rare these days, but they’ll take some peace and quiet whenever they can.

After a little while, Jon and Martin pull away from each other, just a little bit, to be able to look at each other and to share a proper good morning kiss, ever gentle but definitely enthusiastic.

“Hi.” He smiles.

“Hi yourself.” Another kiss, and then they are interrupted by the sound of a growling stomach. They share a look.

“Time for breakfast?”

“Yes, definitely. I think we’ve got ingredients for pancakes, if you want.”

And just like that, they start another day in the cozy cabin in the middle of the scottish highlands.

Notes:

Warnings: - mentioned canon character death - references to depression, loneliness etc.

#banashee writes #the magnus archives fanfic #tma fanfic #jonmartin #the magnus archives #5+1 things #hurt/comfort #fluff #all seasons #tw canon character death mentioned #tw loneliness #tw depression

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12loona-archived · 4 years

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[FANCAFE] 200819 - Happy 2 Years with LOONA From Heejin: “Orbits! It’s Heejin. ❤ We, Loona, have already reached our second debut anniversary! Time passes so quickly.. I also think, what did I even do for time to have passed this fast? ㅋㅋ Whenever this time of year comes around I feel relief like, “Ah, we’ve arrived safely this year again”, and when I think of Orbits who have stuck with us until now, I’m so grateful. After all, we can celebrate our anniversary together each year because we’ve all been running together and not by ourselves, right? These days I often feel gratitude for each of these little moments. And you’re even more precious because there are always expressions that I can’t say fully in words… My ever so beloved Orbits! Thank you so much for celebrating Loona’s second anniversary with us!! I love you. ❤”

From Hyunjin: “To Orbits: Hi~! Orbits, it’s Hyunjin. >_From Yeojin: “Orbits~!! Hi, it’s me, Yeojin!! Everyone’s doing well, right? The weather’s gotten really hot lately so I’m worried about Orbits a lot, and because I’m worried I miss you even more. ㅜ The reason I’m writing this letter is! Because we, Loona, have reached our second debut anniversary!! Through these two years we’ve had lots of tough times, and lots of happy times and emotional times too, and I think it’s such a big blessing that I could share each of those moments with Orbits! Thank you so much for always being with us, Loona. I’ll make sure to be a Yeojin who repays you even more!! Please keep taking good care of me, Orbits, I love you. ❤” From Vivi: “Happy, happy birthday to Loona. 🎂🎂🎂 Thank you for wishing us a happy second anniversary! I think I’ve received much love and lived happily thanks to Orbits being by my side for these two years. I’m so disappointed that I can’t see you much these days, but I hope everyone will be healthy and happy. The more time passes, the more more more our pretty members and Orbits feel precious to me. So through this letter, I’ll send love to the members and Orbits. ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ I’ll always miss you and love youu. 😚😚😚 See you soon. 🌙🌙🌙 💗 VivV. 💗” From Kim Lip: “It’s Loona’s second debut anniversary. :) We have lots of anniversaries and Orbits like that more, right? I like it too because we get lots of days to give Orbits news! Because ordinary days become special anniversaries for us. 🥰 One time recently I sank into my thoughts while watching the rain. While listening to the rains soounds I read a book, watched a movie, and took some time to think a bit more about myself. Orbits, how have you been spending time? Thinking time is good, but let’s not think deeply for too long of a time! I miss Orbits so much.. 🥺 We’ve put in lots of effort for two years but I think there are a lot of things we haven’t been able to show you yet. You want to see lots of diverse sides of me and Loona, right? Forget two years, let’s be together for 20 years, 200 years! Love you. ❤ Again, a heartfelt thank you to the many people who celebrated with us. ❤” From Jinsoul: “Hello, Orbits, it’s Jinsoul. 💙 You’re doing well, right? It’s already been two years’ time since Loona debuted! We’ve laughed a lot and cried a lot in that time, and those memories have built up, and I feel that that time has become even more valuable and precious thanks to Orbits being with us. I’m so thankful and I hope we’ll see each other for an even longer time to come. 💙 Looking forward to even better times! And my members! Honestly with each passing day, you feel even more precious to me. Fighting to us, so that we can climb steadily to the highest place! Love you. 💙” From Choerry: “Orbits!! Today is the second anniversary of Loona’s debut!! Kya-a-a. Thank you so much for cherishing and loving us for two years! 🎉🎊 When I think of Orbits when I’m tired and exhausted, I automatically get energized and I feel like I could fly around the practice room about 100 times! It’s raining a lot these days too, be careful not to catch a cold everyone. ㅠㅠ For me, lately I’ve been having more hobby time watching movies or dramas with the members in the dorm! If I get the chance later I’ll recommend you movies or dramas I’ve enjoyed~ Thank you so much for celebrating Loona’s secondary anniversary, and I say this all the time but let me say it again today! Orbits!! Always love you and miss you. 💜😘” From Yves: “Hello, Orbits! This is Yves. 🍎 It’s already been two years since we, Loona, have debuted. To be honest, I’m not one to place a huge meaning in numbers, but today feels a little different. From the moment we debuted as a full group — the joyfulness, sadness, happiness and regrets, and countless more emotions I can’t describe that were shared together with Orbits, have all one by one made me who I am now. To our Orbits ✨ who allow us to feel various emotions like this, and making me feel grateful for every moment, thank you so much. 😭 I love all Orbits, no matter where you are or what you look like. I will repay you with even better images in the future! Be together with me. ❤” From Chuu: “Orbit. ❤ I can’t beleive it’s already our second anniversary. Every performance, promotion, fanmeeting, broadcasts during this time have al seem to flash before me. I thought of this as a short time, but contrary to my thoughts I’ve shared many things with Orbits. 🌈 Although I don’t know how many things will unfold or what will come up in the road of Loona’s future, I want to look forward to the road Loona will walk on in future! And I want to decorate the road we walk on with Orbits. 😌 Of course, a future that’s just pretty would be nice too, but even if we’re a bit clumsy, or have trials and errors, or lots of hard times, I want to create a future that is enjoyable because we can always be together. ❤ Will you be with me and Loona in the future too? ☺ To me, Orbits are my pride and become my confidence. Thank you! Next time I will bring better words than thanks. 🙏🏻 Thank you.” From Go Won: “Hello, hello! This is Go Win. Orbits, what day is it?! It’s Loona’s second anniversary~~~ 🥳 It’s already been two years since the ponytail Go Won who yelled, “You can’t get tired!”. The time together with Orbits is so nice that just thinking about it makes me feel like time flies by. Orbits, out of all of the days we spent together, when was your favourite?! For me, even just calling Orbits’ name and laughing together makes me really happy. 🥰 I really, really miss you guys lots, our Orbits. ❤ I’m always thankful and I love you. ❤” From Olivia Hye: “Hello, Orbits! I’m Olivia Hye. With our members and Orbits! We were able to celebrate our second anniversary so I’m glad! I want to show performances as soon as possible, and I want to meet Orbits through fansign meetings. And our members, you have worked hard! While we’ve been together for these two years, which you could call a long or short amount of time, it’s nice that it feels like we’ve been able to understand each other best. Lately I’ve been thinking each and every one of you is preicious. I trust that we will have even better days in the future, and let’s work hard in the future like we do now. Our members, and our Orbits, I’m always thank for all of you!”

translated by loona’s subbits.

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cowplantberry · 4 years

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Chapter 6

As I stood there with my mother preparing for my fitting, I could not help but think about the previous night. Every time I got to the part with Merlot’s heartfelt confession, my heart would begin to ache. I hoped Nilla was coming, but she was not even home when I got up this morning. She must have had an early morning at work.

“Ah Yes. Miss Floss come with me.”

The dress was beautiful. My mother looked so happy. I tried to fake a smile, but I just couldn’t keep the facade up very long. My smile began to droop and my mother picked up on it very quickly.

“Whats the matter love?”

“Nothing Mom. I’m fine.”

She looked me over for a second and I could tell she was not buying it.

“Uh, Miss. Truffle could you excuse us for a moment?”

“Of course.”

She quickly left the room.

“Ok really. Whats wrong?”

I drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. I didn’t even know how to begin. My brain was running in 500 directions. I just felt so confused.

“Mom. Do you think I am making the right choice? DO you think Turq is the right one for me?”

“Awww honey you just have cold feet. This happens to a lot of brides before their weddings.”

“So is that a yes”

“Sweet heart I don’t know the answer to that one. That decision is yours and yours alone. Are you happy?”

I sat down in the little chair provided in the fitting room. I wanted to confess everything. The dreams, my feelings for Merlot, our midnight rendezvous. I could feel the words creeping up in my throat. I swallowed hard hoping they would recess back down.

“I think I am just a little tired. Miss Bitters has been riding me pretty hard lately.”

I hated lying to my mother, but there was just no way she would ever understand. No one would.

I gave her a really big hug and thanked her for being so supportive. She smiled and I could tell she felt very accomplished. She motioned to Miss Truffle and she re-entered the room. She finished the fitting and we parted ways. I wish we could have hung our a little longer, but I acutally had a small lunch date to attend at Turq’s. I started to feel a little better as I headed to his place.

When I arrived at Turq’s I did feel a little more at ease. I gave him a hug and it felt really good. Man it seemed like it has been ages since I had seen him. I rested my chin on his shoulder for a few extra moments.

“Hey there stranger. How are you feeling?”

“Huh? Oh! Much better ya.”

“Thats good. I was kinda worried about you, when you took off that night at the club. I tried to call, but Nilla said you were pretty much passed out.”

“Ya heh. Don’t let me around the juice… its bad news.”

“Well its good to see you. I missed you my sweets.”

He leaned in a little closer. I leaned in as well. I looked into his sweet eyes and all I felt was guilt.

“How about I make us a little lunch!”

I hurried off to the kitchen.

I began preparing my specialty salad and giving myself a little pep talk at the same time. Nothing happened that night. There is no reason for you to feel guilty. You still love Turq. You are still getting married right? Of course.

Once I was finished. I prepared to serve. I could feel the guilt beginning to wash away. I smiled as I brought the plate to the table. Probably the first real smile all day.

We ended up having a very nice meal and a wonderful conversation. It started to remind me of all the wonderful things I loved about Turq. He was really easy to talk to and always very supportive. I decided this would be my chance to tell him how I felt about my job. I dropped my fork to the plate and then I came out with it.

“You know I have been thinking. Once we are married, maybe I could quit my job and be a stay at home wife and maybe someday soon… Mommy.”

“Quit your job? Gosh I don’t know. Are you sure? Maybe you should reconsider. Maybe someday but I don’t think that such a good thing right now.”

I dropped my eyes back to my plate in disappointment.

“Ya, maybe you are right.”

After dinner I had to head out a little early. I had work in the morning and as much as I did not want to go. I really did not have a choice. I kissed Turq goodnight and headed home.

As I walked down the steps I did start to feel a little better. See I told myself, everything was going to be just fine.

When I got home I found Nilla on the couch, but there was something different about her. I called out to her.

“Hey Nill! I’m home.”“…”“Nill? Everything OK?

She finally looked my direction and got up off the couch.

“Have you completely lost your mind?!”

Wow. What the heck had gotten into her?

“What do you mean?”“Fairy don’t play dumb with me. I know what happened last night.”

I froze.

“How could you possibly know about that?”“Well when you snuck out of the house with out saying I word. I got a little concerned. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. Then when I saw you get into Merlot’s car. I couldn’t hardly believe my eyes.”

“You followed us?”“Not one of my shining moments I know, but its a good thing I did. Now I can tell Turq. Fairy what on earth were you thinking? You’re getting married in a week!”

I was horrified. I could feel my salad beginning to make its decent back up.

“Its not what you think I swear.”

She stared at me with those disproving yellow green eyes.

The last thing I wanted to do was cry for the third time in two days, but I couldn’t help it. Now my best friend was angry at me. I felt completely alone.

“I don’t know what I was thinking!! I am just so confused right now! Please don’t tell Turq!”

“Oh jeez Fair. Don’t cry… I didn’t mean it honest. I guess I was just a little jealous.”

*Uncontrollable sobbing*“I just don’t get it. I thought you loved Turq?”“I do! Turq is a good man. He is always supportive and understanding!”“Ya thats great and all, but are you in love with him?”

I started crying all over again.

She pulled me in and I cried and cried.

“Well you better figure it out quick, or its gonna be too late.”“I know.”“Well…What ever you decide. I will be here for you ok?”“Thanks.”

When I headed to the bedroom, I never felt so exhausted in my whole life. And as I closed my eyes I hoped that maybe I would have the answer when I awoke.

#the sims 3 #sims #berry sweet sims #fairlot #DALD

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paramsiddharth · 3 years

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#15: The Independence Day

However tempting the title may be at suggesting my life is at peace now, it painfully isn't. I don't want this to prevent me from glorifying the decades of freedom from colonization we have enjoyed, how much we have recovered from post-colonization trauma, and how we are more responsibly planning to evolve in future. Lots of love to my country. I love my dear Bihar, I love India. I am grateful to my parentland for everything it gave me, such as the beautiful cultural heritage and the opportunity to identify myself as a proud Indian. 🇮🇳 I give my heartfelt pranaam to my nation.

Why is it always such that I make a post, disappear for months (or years), and then make a sudden reappearance? I love writing. Why this discontinuity? I asked myself this question.

I realized it is because I am always too overwhelmed by my past and future to express my present without hurting myself. And don't expect me to mourn that; It is part of my situational awareness, learning from my experience, and practical preparedness and I'm not ashamed.

I'm not proud either, but there's little I can do to change the circumstances I'm put in. The very reason behind my continuous complaining and being a crybaby is because that's what has happened to me throughout my life, and continues to. There are plenty of people to blame, but definitely not me.

I will start talking about the time after the day I posted that Kharagpur blog, but I will move in a logarithmic fashion i. e. Increasing the amount of focus on the part closer to the plateau (present) rather than the cliff (past).

Do you use olive oil at home? Is it a common ingredient in most of the food that you have at home? I recently learnt an interesting truth about food oils. Mustard oil, olive oil, and refined oil are the 3 major oils used to cook. In my family everything is cooked in mustard oil. I used to watch recipe videos and wonder why the colour of the oil looked so different. Turns out they generally use olive oil.

Based on what mom told, mustard oil is much more fatty and considered not good for health, at least in comparison to olive oil. That being said, mustard oil comes for a lot cheaper than olive oil. So do we use less healthy oil to cook food for saving money? Yes. Are we the only ones? I really don't know.

As much as I don't want to, I pity myself. It's pathetic, but every time I pity myself, I assume it can't get worse. But it does. It very much does.

5-6 days ago, my parents had a very violent fight. I was there to get them to settle, and since my classes were not going on, I could give more time to home. Despite my struggle to get both my parents to be peaceful, they kept saying things to each-other for half the night, and kept hurting themselves, mentally and physically. I was there to help them, but they weren't welcoming to any support. And I understand why. They must feel like they are put into a position where they can't express themselves to anyone, and that nobody can feel what they are going through.

Folks and friends tell me not to get in between when they fight. I wouldn't… If only it remained verbal. But it gets worse. It gets physical, in a manner that they end up hurting their internal and external biologies causing more than just short-term damage. I barely manage to save the day everytime… Because I love them. I don't want to listen to my friends. My parents are my everything. Losing one of them means losing half of my life's purpose. I'm nothing without them, no matter how they are.

And I managed to calm them down. 3 days ago, we woke up to a news that wasn't initially so devastating: The water motor wasn't working. It had been a common problem, I easily assumed it will be fixed soon. We got it checked, had some analysis done, some parts bought. By evening, it was still being worked on, and that made the situation tense. The day ended with the news that the plumbers will come the next day and attempt a better fix, something they referred to as "slizing" (I think it supposed to be slicing). I didn't eat much that day, for reasons. Others ate less too.

So we got the "slizer" expert the next day. The whole day was going to be a wasted struggle again, and what happened at home made it far worse. The lack of food, hydration, and sanitation made our patience and moods worse. My parents had an argument, and once the light was sparked, it ended up being probably the worst fight they have ever had in the whole lifetime. One where they almost hit each-other. I came in between as a shield and got beaten up instead, gladly so. But will I always be able to get in between?

The situational dilemma hit me harder than the physical strokes. I was pulled down deep into the realization of how traumatizing the past 5 years have been for my parents. From being loving, caring, and supportive, they've become beasts. They have turned into people with no emotional control, and mood-swing patterns that encourages self-harm exclusive to interpersonal fights between those two.

As much as they fight, scream, misbehave, and misunderstand each-other while arguing, they are the only 2 adults I could ever rely on. The rest of my ostensible family has been far more hostile to us, in a much more heart-penetrating way than physically. Who else can I look up to? And even if I had anybody else to look up to, my parents are the 2 people I will never let go of. It is my life's purpose to see them happy, and I won't let anything go wrong before that happens.

Their hatred for each-other while fighting is no longer silenced by their want to live, and their heart no longer melts by the thought of their kids' happiness. They aren't able to think straight during a fight. What would a person in this condition be advised to do? Take therapy, I suppose. We can't afford that. Will the one who advises us pay for our therapy? I'm sure not.

Money is the one big thing in our life that's our biggest joy and harshest pain at the same time. If we had more money, none of our current problems in life would remain relevant. We will be able to cure everything, including our financial instability and mental illnesses. We will be off to a happy life, constantly evolving. If only we had more money. If only…

Let me slap myself out of this dream. It isn't here yet. A minimum of 2 years before I even get on my feet are to be borne with patience and… Struggle. No, my parents have to remain together, no matter what. The hardwork they did for their whole life, won't lose meaning so easily. We're close, and we will make it. I will get a good job and change everything. I will be able to fix us. I will do it… Won't I?

I wasn't able to cry, because I hadn't had water for 50+ hours. My parents eventually lost energy and got diverted by updates from the plumbers and the expert. It failed. They didn't even attempt the "slizing" part. Maybe next day.

Day 3. No eating, drinking, peeing, or excreting. We felt like lifeless blobs, and it was harder for us to make it through, considering my mom has an OCD. Although we were convinced that the service folks were fixing the water issue, we also knew the kind of people we have in Muzaffarpur. They were using our helplessness as a measure to maximize visible worktime and increase the payment. The only thing they were aiming for is profit. No sense of wanting to provide quality service, no concern for our degrading health, nothing. They were just extending and pulling out days from our lifeless schedule.

On day 3, we slightly hinted that this would be the last day we let them work. We ensured them that if they don't fix it by the end of the day, instead of wasting more money into something that isn't even working, we will urgently invest into getting a submersible pump installed, the ultimate answer to all water problems in the poverty-stricken lands of India.

God knows how, by the end of the day, water started coming. We were not relieved, especially I. Not instantly. I waited for the next morning, and then, was a little calmed. After having the payment report (just because I make it sound professional doesn't mean it was, it was an informal description of how much we have to pay and a disambiguation telling why), we realized the fixing cost us over ₹22,000. That's a lot of money for a sudden life problem. And then the motor stopped working again in the evening, whereafter we asked them to have a look again. A quickfix and it started working after adding some water in the pipe.

We are firm that the next step is to get a submersible pump, but even if we put aside the financial challenge for a moment, this season isn't the best one to get it installed. In fact, that should be our last resort, if all options are exhausted, like it would have been if day 3 ended in a disappointment too. But now we have some time to think, plan, and gather money. ₹80,000 isn't a small amount (that's to start, you know it's always more than it seems).

It was the independence day. Wow, what a beautiful day. An independent country, where there are lakhs of smiles of people happy and proud of their country. And lakhs of neutrally frowned faces who don't even know what a country is. All they know is food, water, shelter, and survival. I felt them, I can tell. It must be worse. I wish we had a little more independence too. A stable financial life, my mom's OCD cured, feels like a lovely eye-tearing dream.

Hahaha… I don't know why I'm crying. Is it because of the trauma of 3 painful days? Is it the fear of my parents getting into a fight again? Is it the painful possibility that I might not get a good job because of my not-so good college or my own ineligibility? Or is it just me, a 19 year-old who doesn't even know what to do with his life and is struggling to survive mentally, physically, biologically, academically, and socially?

For those 3 days, I was in a state of suffering. Since I didn't eat much, I didn't need to use the bathroom, but I would have loved to. I would have loved to satisfy my dry throat with some water. Having not drunk or eaten in days had fatigued me. If you want a feel of how long it had been, here's a day 3 picture of an initially dark yellow arhar dal cooked on day 1:

Still, I was receiving phone calls.

Them: Hey Param! What's up? Can you help me with this thing?

Me: Hi, I'm sorry, I can't… I'm kind of in a problem… ...(trying to explain my situation).

Them: That stinks! Sorry about that, dude. Take care. Oh, by the way, can you help me out with this quickly? I really need to do this.

This makes me realize how awfully tooled I have always let myself be. If it was a regular day, I would have probably let go of my busy time and helped them out, but I was in pain. I was enraged. Very angered by their stubbornness and lack of concern for my happiness, when I have always been the one who was there for them. I hung up and left my phone. I didn't feel like touching it anymore. Life felt obsolete.

Evening, day 4, we were preparing for dad's birthday next day. Planning a surprise, we ordered a cake for him by collecting some money. We were very excited. Little did we know our happiness was about to be shattered… That's when the water had stopped working again. We know it got fixed later, but the intensity of the trauma in the moment embedded itself deeply into our hearts, and despite the want to be excited, we weren't very relieved after the news that it was working again. We were constantly afraid it will stop working again.

We desperately tried to stay happy and celebrate his birthday. 12 AM, August 16, we sang happy birthday. Crying on the inside and smiling on the outside, we made ourselves believe that we ought to be happy for survival. The desperation was visible on our faces. Here are some pictures:

Now that I'm out of it (pray, the water works fine), I still don't feel so good about it. I want to hug my parents and stay in their arms forever. I want to see them smiling and keep talking to them forever. I want to be able to forget my pain and begin a happy life with my parents someday. Other people won't help me achieve that, I will.

I attempted to get myself a job offer at some good companies, and the recruiters would admit that I'm worthy and eligible and all, but then conclude, "…but our company generally gives only on-campus opportunities.". I get it. I'm not in an IIT. Not privileged enough to be allowed to compete with those IITians I'm far better than. I'll not have a chance, because they'll never come for on-campus opportunities to my college. Bless the IITs, for they've now stolen a hundred options of success from me despite my hardwork.

It is the interview season. I recently had a huge spam of texts and phonecalls by my seniors, asking, requesting, and even threatening me to help them with their online coding entrances. I clarified that I find it ethically wrong, but they continued to mentally disturb me by saying stuff that they, as my elders, shouldn't. I made a post on LinkedIn regarding that. I was so mentally tortured I couldn't take it anymore. And guess what? The responses were equally surprising and hostile.

A good number of people supported. By "supported", I don't mean "liked the post". Anybody would do that for free. Rather, some people appreciated my bravery and told me I did the right thing. On the other hand, some others simply scolded and criticized me brutally for the defamation of JUET, the possibility of JUET being blacklisted by recruiters, and making LinkedIn an unprofessional platform with my plea. What value I hath wrought from years of hardwork didn't seem to be anything to them. Shame on them for looking down on someone they should have been supportive to. And all those cowards who enjoy the perks of the flattery of such devil elders, may they suffer the consequences. Ahh!

Life is so stupid. Why am I working so hard? Whom for? Hello? Is anybody ever going to acknowledge me? Am I ever going to get any appreciation? EVER? Why me? Why? 😭

The question is on me. I've come far enough to understand how this universe works to a much better extent than before. Will I be able to plan my future strategically and always do what's right for me and my family? I hope I do. I hope I don't disappoint the one person who is always there to support me: Myself.

I had once felt like I saw God, but suddenly there was no God. I looked around. Nothing. I was alone. All by myself. Nobody was there to help me achieve my dreams. I suddenly felt this urge to be so grateful for what I have, and not assume that this is the worst it can get. It could get worse, and there's a lot I can get out of my present rather than worrying about my future. And you, dear reader, ought to be grateful for what you have, too.

I sincerely take my leave now. ❤️

Lots of love,

Param Siddharth.

#life #pain #money #education #suffering #escape #trauma #depression #strength #mental health #healthylife #growing #change #maturity

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lostinthewiind · 4 years

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First of all, THAT BULL SMUT STORY? DAAAAMN, THIS IS SOME HOT SHIT HONEY! I looove it! So, may it possible if I request another one with our friendly giant? Just if you have time and some ideas! Have a good das!🤗💕

So glad you liked that Bull SeXy TiMe :) (even tho it was ages ago hahaha I’m so backed up with requests)

I’ve been having some Bull feels lately so here is another cute little fic with our friendly giant (I didn’t do sexy time tho so I hope that’s okay - I do have a smutty Bull fic in mind that I will hopefully write soon tho, so stay tuned for that)

SONG: Lost Without You - Freya Ridings

TAG LIST: @gottapenny @warmommy @scissorsfordoc @wexhappyxfew @curraheev @mayhem24-7forever @one-who-hunts-eagles @bandofmarvels @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @wildwilliamguarnere @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @medievalfangirl @maiden-of-gondor @whoabrekker @thefricklefracklesin @junojelli @bandofgays @itisjustmethistime @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz @dumpofdumblings

Lost Without You

Pulling at your fingers, you hoped beyond hope that the meaningless task would distract your mind. It didn’t. It did no such thing. If anything, it made you worry even more. “You’re pulling at your fingers again” Bull would have told you if he were there, but he wasn’t, and that was the problem.

The other guys had had to forcefully remove you from Nuenen when the word that Bull was missing had spread. You wanted to stay and look for him, refusing to leave in case he was bleeding out somewhere, in need of help, but the angry wall of Nazi’s rushing toward you and Bill Guarnere physically throwing you into the back of the truck was enough to keep you from continuing your search.

So now you stood in the middle of a field, pacing back and forth, pulling at your fingers, hoping that Bull’s large frame would walk over the crest of the hill at any moment.

From the minute you met Denver “Bull” Randleman, he was one of your best friends. He never, not even once, participated in teasing you like the others guys did and ever since the first drop into Normandy after D-day he would always check on you after every mission.

He was your rock and now he was missing, possibly even dead, and all you could do was pace. You felt beyond useless.

“Come on, guys!” Hoobler waved for a few of the guys to follow him. Soon, a small group of about five men walked past, rifles in hand and determination on their faces.

“Where are you going?” you approached them, curious.

“We’re going after Bull,” Garcia, one of Bull’s replacements said. “Wanna come?”

You did, you really did, but you knew as one of the company medics that it would be reckless of you to go off on an unauthorized rescue mission. What if something happened while you were away? What if someone died?

Then you remembered that Bull could be dying, and technically speaking, as a medic, it was your job to keep as many men alive as possible. You knew Bull would break the rules for you if the roles were reversed, so in a split second, you made your decision.

“Yes.” you nodded. “Just give me a minute to grab my gear. If he’s hurt I want to be able to help him as soon as we find him.”

After retrieving your medic bag, you joined back up with the small search party and along with Hoobler, Garcia, Webster, Hashey, and Cobb, you ventured off into the night in the direction of Nuenen.

The six of you travelled in the ditches along the side of the road, moving slowly and stopping occasionally as a German patrol or vehicle passed by on the road above.

Every step you took made you even more painfully aware that you were one step closer to possibly finding Bull’s dead body somewhere. As much as you tried to push that thought out of your head, it kept coming back. You didn’t want to think about it, but it was a possibility, and you had to be prepared for that.

By the time the morning sun had begun to rise the search party still hadn’t made it to Nuenen. With all of the delays and direction changes to avoid being spotted, the trip ended up taking far longer than it was supposed to, even on foot.

“I think we’re almost there.” Webster breathed, taking the lead. “But we’ve lost the cover of night so this rescue mission might have just turned into a suicide mission.”

“We still have to try.” you huffed. “We’ve come this far. We have to at least try.”

Before anyone had the chance to say anything else, the familiar sound of an engine rattled in the distance and everyone dropped to their stomachs, hoping the people in the vehicle coming around the bend in the road wouldn’t notice them in the ditch.

As the jeep got closer, however, you realized that it wasn’t a German vehicle. It was American.

Standing up tall, Hoobler held his gun above his head to signal he was friendly and not an enemy. Spotting the group of Paratroopers, the jeep driver pulled over to the side of the road. That was when it became clear that the driver wasn’t alone. There was someone sitting in the passenger’s seat, and that someone was Bull Randleman.

A wide smile spread across your face and you rushed over to the vehicle. You were about to throw your arms around Bull’s neck and hug him tight, but at the last second, you decided against it; not with all the other guys around.

“We were just coming to find you.” you panted, exhausted from your long night. “But looks like you didn��t need us at all.”

“I got bored and decided to rescue myself.” Bull chuckled before scooting over and patting the spot beside him. “Come on. All of you, hop on.”

After you slid in next to Bull and the rest of the men had piled into the small vehicle, the driver took off down the road again. Throwing an arm around your shoulders, Bull smiled down at you.

After returning to camp and allowing Bull to have his heartfelt reunion with the men, you took him aside to inspect his wound. You were ecstatic that he didn’t seem to have suffered any other injuries besides the piece of tank shrapnel in his shoulder, and the wound even looked like it had been treated already.

“My techniques are rubbing off on you.” you chuckled as you cleaned out the wound. “This looks pretty good already.”

Bull only smiled. He wasn’t too keen on sharing what had happened during his night in Nuenen. He was just happy to be back with you and the company again. “So you really came lookin’ for me, huh?” he changed the topic.

“We did.” you lowered your voice to a whisper. “I broke the rules for you.”

Bull chuckled. “Well, I appreciate it, Darlin’.”

“You would have done the same thing for me,” you told him. “I just wish I could have gotten to you sooner. I shouldn’t have left without you in the first place.”

“Hey, I’m glad you did.” Bull wrapped his large hand around your wrist to get you to look at him. “What kept me going was the knowledge that you were back here with everyone else, safe. Well, you weren’t, you were out lookin’ for my dumb ass, but you were alive at least.”

You sighed. “I just couldn’t sit around here doing nothing while you were out there. I had to at least try. I can’t do this without you. I’d be lost without you.”

An emotion you had never seen before flashed through Bull’s eyes for a split second. For a moment, his face softened and his intimidating demeanour cracked away.

“Oh, Darlin’.” his hand moved from your wrist to your cheek. “You are too good for this world.”

You felt tears begin to well your eyes but blinked them away before they could fall. “Just promise me you won’t ever scare me again like that.”

Bull usually didn’t like making promises he wasn’t absolutely positive that he could keep, but for you, he would do anything. If you asked for the moon, he would find a way to get it for you. “I promise,” he said.

“Good.” you nodded. “Now let me finish bandaging up this wound.”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fic #bull randleman #bull randleman x reader #bull x reader #hbowar #fluff #lostinthewiind #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine

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benditlikepress · 4 years

Text

no man is an island

what started out as a heartfelt attempt to write something coherent and meaningful turned into 9000 words of completely unedited mess because I cried a minimum of 17 times while writing it

would recommend reading on ao3 due to length, kudos and comments are always appreciated <3

@coffeedepablo @saraluvstiva @slouchingprovocatively @wanna-be-bold idk anyone else who might wanna read!!

Wednesday 8th June 2016. Cairo.

Ziva had her second panic attack at the terminal waiting for her flight.

It was the first one she actually recognised as a panic attack, though, rather than an impending sign of death or the psychotic break she had probably been dodging for years.

Perhaps it was the loneliness she felt. Perhaps it was the very real possibility Tony wouldn't show up. Perhaps it was memories of the last time she saw Tony in Africa, almost 10 years ago. Perhaps it was even thoughts of the other Tali; the one who would come with her to the opera house and stare up at the lights with such joy and freedom in her eyes. Ziva had her head in her hands as she tried to steady her breathing and a young woman had knelt in front of her to check if she was OK, but she was dismissed with a grateful but stern voice.

Ever since she woke up she hadn’t been able to shake the fear that this was the wrong thing to do. That no matter how many precautions she’d taken, she’d be putting Tony and Tali in danger just by seeing them. The thoughts followed her through her flight, on the bus journey, down streets and alleys, only getting louder. But this was the only way. Tony was going to have found her, one way or another. Best to be one step ahead.

Maybe she had only realised recently just how well she knew him, but there was no doubt in her mind he would come. Just as he thought he knew her all those years ago when he tracked her across the world to Beersheba. He would go there, she was sure of it. Even if he was furious with her, even if he hated her, he would still find out for himself whether she was alive or dead.

And so she used the one thing only they in this world shared, and she had written a letter and buried it in the box in the grove where they had placed her 'I Will' list, marked with a small white stone. If she knew him like she thought she did, he would find it. And he would find her.

She'd written more in the letter than simply a list of dates and locations from which he could pick a meeting place. She'd written three pages of things she thought she'd struggle to say out loud. Apologies probably took up two of them by themselves.

While she was sure he would go there, she didn't know if what he read would be enough to convince him to follow her wishes. She waited each day after Adam took Tali away, and on the 8th day she had got her answer.

"Cairo. We're OK." was all the message to her burn phone said. Ziva checked her diary - the date she had given Tony for Cairo was the upcoming Wednesday, in a hotel she had found online. She called immediately and booked a room under the name Sophie Ranier, and then she got a bus out of the city and dropped the phone in a garbage can on the side of a nondescript street, covering it with newspaper.

She had got into Cairo that morning via a flight that landed in Aswan, a long and distracted mixed-method route paid in cash seeming safer than a short direct flight. Adam arrived via Alexandria; Ziva had asked if he could get to the hotel and stay for the duration of Tony and Tali’s stay, just in case.

She had rented a family room, not really thinking, and it had 3 beds – a double, a single opposite it, and a second single which was tucked away awkwardly behind a partition wall. Ziva paced the room now wringing her hands, walking between the beds, until she couldn’t stand it any longer and pulled the desk chair across the room to the window.

She couldn’t quite see out of the window when sat on the chair so she sat on her knees, elevated a little, and looked out onto the street below.

Hours passed. She didn’t move an inch, aside from getting up for a glass of water after about 2 hours to calm her nerves. It reminded her in a strange way of a stakeout, a bygone activity from a job that seemed like a lifetime ago.

It was late afternoon when she spotted them. She saw them coming from a mile away; a magnetic pull of her eyes towards a man in light trousers and sunglasses carrying a small girl on his hip and a duffel bag over his other shoulder.

She watched them cross the street, and for a second it was like they were moving in slow-motion. This already felt like a bad idea, but seeing them come towards her it took every ounce of strength Ziva had not to open the window and scream at them to run, leave, get as far away from her as possible.

Reception were under instructions to ring her to check the identity of anyone who came to visit her, and even though Ziva had watched until they entered the building via the entrance below the window she somehow still jumped when the phone rang.

The receptionist told her that her husband was here. She didn’t correct him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Ziva considered it a victory that she didn’t find herself close to another panic attack while she waited the painstaking few minutes for them to get up the stairs. When the door knocked loudly, she was already waiting beside it.

She opened it quickly and barely gave the two of them a glance before she grabbed her daughter’s face, kissing her and hugging her. Tony struggled to put her down on the ground as she did, and Ziva bent down to meet Tali halfway so she could look at her properly. She was wearing a flowery t-shirt Ziva didn’t recognise, and her cheeks were pink from the heat.

“I missed you so much, Tali.” She kissed her again and felt Tali grin into her cheek as she pulled back, her hands tugging playfully at Ziva’s hair.

“Can we come in?”

Tony’s voice shook a fraction as he spoke, and the sound was so familiar that it was almost muscle memory that made Ziva rise back to her feet to look at him. She didn’t really give herself a chance to, though, before she pulled him tightly towards her.

She had expected it to be a little awkward, and maybe it was, but it was apprehensive and nervous rather than disconnected or angry. Tony’s hand instinctively found the back of Ziva’s head and she squeezed his shoulder tightly, moving her head away from his chest look him in the eye. He looked older. More mature. Exhausted. His hair was longer, almost tucked behind his ears, and he had the tan of someone who had once again spent his summer crossing the world looking for her. She pressed the pad of her thumb to his lips, a promise of conversations that needed to come, and he nodded slightly as though he understood before she turned her attention back to Tali.

"Thank you so much for bringing her." Ziva spoke too quickly as she leaned down to gather her in her arms and brought her inside the room, cradling her to her chest in the same way she had done when she had last seen her. She whispered to her quietly, apologies and love and the girl looked at her curiously.

"It's ok, but.. hey," Tony raised his voice a fraction to tear Ziva's attention away from her mutterings. A concerned hand made it’s way to her jaw. "Are you OK?"

"I am fine. Thank you for bringing her." Ziva repeated. "You did not have to."

"Of course I had to. I needed to see you for myself. Plus.. she's your daughter, Ziva."

There was disbelief in Tony's voice as he spoke, as though he was still trying to get his head round the concept. Ziva caught his eye and there was a brief second of silence as though he’d said something shocking.

“My back is on fire,” Tony eventually launched into a too-casual conversation as he dumped his bag onto the floor and looked around the sparse room. "I accidentally left her stroller in the lobby of Mossad headquarters. Don't ask. I think it's going to get mailed to me with a severed torso inside."

"Why were you at Mossad?"

"Apparently some kind of bat signal is alarmed when I cross the Israeli border. Cute, huh?" Tali began tugging at Tony's sleeve for his attention. He brought a hand to her chin. "Ima will play, honey. Abba's back is hurting."

Tony had always been one for pet names, but hearing how naturally they spilled from his lips towards their daughter was something else entirely. Ziva realised she was still stood in the centre of the previously-silent room, watching the two of them drop items and talk at her like a hurricane had just hit.

She sat on the edge of the closest bed and Tali immediately put her hands and arms on her knees, clambering to get onto her. Ziva lowered her own arms to get a hold of her and pull her upwards, settling her down on her lap. She cupped her daughter’s face again, wondering if she really had grown up in the last few weeks or if it was just her imagination.

Tali grabbed for Ziva's necklace - a comforting motion she did often. Ziva's eyes were drawn to the gold around Tali's own neck. She looked up at Tony and he looked embarrassed for a brief second.

"You kept hold of this?"

"Did you think I would throw it away?"

Ziva wasn't sure what to say to that - the weight of the implications in the things that weren't being said. She turned the Star of David over in her fingers a couple of times.

"What's going on, Ziva?" Tony broke the silence first, and there was a sigh in his voice that could've made her smile if it was in a less ridiculous circumstance.

"Honestly, I am not quite sure yet. There is a woman who is after me. Really after me. She is not going to stop. I do not know how I know her or what I have done to her, but that is what I am trying to find out. She does not know about Tali - she does not know about any of this, which is why the best place for her to be is safe with you far away from me, and for everyone else to think I am dead."

Tony took her words in for a moment, exhaling loudly.

"Have you talked to Gibbs?"

"No, and you cannot call him. I do not want anyone else putting themselves in harm's way over this."

"Who knows you're alive?"

"Adam, a woman called Odette, and you. Nobody else. Adam and Odette are helping to keep me safe. I had to tell you because.. I knew you were going to come and find me. The safest way for that to happen was for me to arrange a day to meet with you. I could not bear the thought of the two of you not knowing the truth." Ziva played with the hem of Tali's shirt as she spoke. She was in her own world, talking to herself happily.

Tony eventually offered a "Thanks. For telling me." but it seemed ludicrous and his voice faded a little as he spoke. "I don’t like lying to them, but I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"If I thought there was any other way, I would not ask you to. Is Gibbs looking for me?” Ziva’s voice was steady and perhaps even a little hopeful, in spite of the fact that it was simply another thing to worry about.

The sadness that briefly crossed Tony’s face was not how he expected him to react. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since I left, actually.”

“Do you think he will? I need to know what to expect. He could be in danger.”

“I think you’re ok, Ziva.” He said her name quietly, and the little furrow in his brow made her realise he was worried it would upset her. She took a breath.

“That is for the best.”

“I’m sure if he knew..”

“He doesn’t. So it does not matter.” Ziva shut down the conversation before they could get into it. He believed she was dead. That was that.

“Down, ima.” Tali’s voice recaptured Ziva’s attention, and she was straining from Ziva’s lap to get back onto the floor. Ziva dropped her down and Tali made a beeline for Tony’s duffel bag. She moved a few pieces of clothing around in there haphazardly until she emerged victorious with Kelev in her hand and sat down on the floor at Ziva’s feet.

“It is her birthday on Sunday.”

“I know. It was the first thing I checked, knew it would be coming up. Is that why you wanted to come to Cairo now? Like you did for your sister?”

Ziva nodded slightly, and maybe it should’ve surprised her more that he would remember something like that. It didn’t, though. She stopped being surprised by his thoughtfulness a long time ago.

“Have you brought her presents?”

“Not yet. Senior has bought the entire department store. I haven’t had the chance, I’ve barely had time to think.” He exhaled.

“How are you?” Ziva asked anxiously, not sure she actually wanted to know the answer.

“I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Tony eventually responded, and when he laughed sarcastically Ziva heard a wetness that made a lump form in her own throat. “I left her stroller at Mossad headquarters, who does that?”

"No parent knows what they are doing at first."

"Yeah, but most parents have a baby and another parent. I've suddenly got a toddler and I've never spent more than a few hours around a kid since I was one myself." Ziva stayed quiet as Tony continued talking, words spilling out as though he’d been holding onto them for weeks. "An hour will pass that will be fine and I'll feel like I'm getting the hang of it. Then a switch flips and she's crying and I'm crying and I'm calling Jimmy Palmer in the middle of the night DC-time asking him how you get kids to eat food."

She couldn’t help but fidget then, guilt and anxiety and self-loathing creating a mix that made her feel like she was about to throw up. Her eyes flitted around the room and she tried to block out the voices in her head, refocusing on Tony’s.

“Senior’s been great, though, if you’d believe that. I’ve decided not to be resentful about it.”

“Maybe it is his way of making up for his past mistakes. It is difficult to be vulnerable about something like that, maybe he wants to show that he is sorry.”

Ziva felt Tony’s eyes burning into her crown as she bent her head down towards Tali on the floor, talking in jumbled sentences about an adventure Kelev was on and hopping him along the carpet. She ran her fingers through Tali’s hair and bent her lips to the top of her head, kissing her and smelling her as though it had been years rather than weeks.

“Yeah.” Ziva still didn’t look at Tony, but his eyes tracked hers down to Tali. “I didn’t realise it was such a short flight. She didn’t sleep at all.”

“Did you come straight from Israel?”

“We stayed there for a little while. I’d bookmarked Cairo on your little itinerary.”

"You cannot stay here. You know that, yes?"

"I know."

She wasn’t sure if he could tell how close she was to falling to apart.

"You need to book the next flight home."

"Paris."

"Sorry?"

"Paris is home now. I've rented an apartment. Just.. so you know where we are."

“You really left for good?”

“It’s just a job.”

Hearing those words from Tony was like a slap in the face. He made it sound so simple. Didn’t seem to understand the impact they had as he pulled his phone from his pocket to look up flight tickets.

For as long as Ziva had known him, his job was everything to him. It was all he had going for him a lot of the time, though Tony was never one to have admitted he was lonely. The idea that he could drop his career like that, drop everything like that, for Tali? She'd been afraid he would do that when she was pregnant, and he'd resent her from pulling him away from what she thought was his home. That his job was his life's purpose. It was obvious now that she hadn't been thinking clearly. She knew him better than that.

His brow was furrowed as he typed on his phone.

"Next flight is 1:55am direct to Paris."

"That will have to do."

Tony nodded, his lips in a tight line as he began to type again. Ziva watched his expression, mostly unreadable, but when Tony's face was unreadable that meant something in itself.

"I'm so sorry for dragging you into this, Tony."

He looked up from his phone after a moment. "This is for mine and Tali's safety, right?"

"Yes."

"Then there's nothing to apologise for."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Surface-level conversations and brief attempts to capture each other’s eyelines followed after Tony confirmed the flight for take-off in several hours’ time. Ziva tried to steady herself. Tony smiled as Tali presented toys to them.

"Ima.. knee." Tali suddenly tugged at the bottom of her leggings.

"Oh yeah," Tony fumbled in his pocket. "She, uh, fell over outside the airport. I stopped to buy some band-aids."

"She hates band-aids. She'll never wear them." Ziva said as she rolled up Tali's leggings. Her knee was grazed, little flecks of blood still present. "Oh no, Tali. Did you hurt yourself?" The girl nodded solemnly, looking down at her leg. “Get a wipe to clean it.” Ziva directed at Tony, but when she looked back at him he was already in his bag retrieving one.

Ziva wiped the cut slowly, making soothing noises as Tali fidgeted and whined.

"Let's see," Tony turned the band-aid in his hand. "Do you have a knife or anything on you?"

The knife she produced from the holster at her waist had jagged edges and a harsh end.

"I don't think that's gonna work."

"Adam is next door, shall I get him?”

"No, it's ok. You stay here, I'll go to the front desk."

Tony began to walk towards the door but a wave of anxiety hit Ziva and she stepped after him, grabbing his arm. He turned at the action, her grip tight on his shirt, and looked at her pleading expression.

"Call down and ask them to bring some up."

Tony looked at her for a long moment, and presumably he could sense the anxiety surrounding her because he didn’t make any effort to argue, dropping his arm as she released his shirt slowly and walking to the phone on the table by the bed. He picked it up and brought the receiver to his ear, before smiling.

"Uh, what's Arabic for scissors?" Tony asked sheepishly, and even though Ziva was sure the receptionist would speak English the smile on his face made her feel 50 pounds lighter. She took the phone from him and asked for a pair of scissors, and the receptionist told her they would be with her momentarily.

“Why do you need scissors?” Ziva asked as an afterthought, realising she hadn’t questioned whatever it was Tony was thinking of.

“Aha,” was his only reply, though he aimed it more at Tali than her and Ziva watched as he poked her on the end of her nose.

Tali climbed back onto Ziva’s lap as they waited, feeling sorry for herself. Ziva rocked her a little, remembering when she was a baby and she’d walk her around the house for hours holding her in her arms trying to get her to sleep.

Tony answered the door (though Ziva would rather have done so herself), and when he came back towards the bed with the scissors he picked up the band-aid and turned his back to them.

"Here, Tali. Look what I have."

Tony held something up in his hands, and Ziva strained her eyes to see what it was. He had used the scissors to carefully cut the band-aid into the shape of a heart. "I have a special sticker for you! Cool, huh? And when you put it on your knee it makes it all better, like magic." He took the paper sealant off the band-aid and lifted the outside to his lips, making a dramatic noise as he kissed it. He held it out in front of Ziva and she copied him in a slight daze, watching as he then placed the band-aid onto Tali’s knee.

Tali didn’t seem to have an adverse reaction but Ziva was fully distracted now, watching Tony’s animated face as he smiled at her daughter. At their daughter, who he hadn’t even known existed until a couple of weeks ago. She’d never seen the light shining in his eyes like it was now; natural and instinctive and innocent. Was it possible to love someone that much so quickly?

Tony’s head eventually lifted upwards to Ziva, and he looked at the watery expression in her eyes with a slight frown. “What?”

“You should stop giving yourself a hard time.”

Tony looked back down at Tali and at the precisely cut heart shape now stuck atop her knee. “It’s nothing.”

“It is not nothing, Tony. I have never once got her to keep a band-aid on.”

“Well, I could’ve taught you.” It was said easily but both of them felt the force as the words hit. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Tony immediately conceded, with a shake of the head.

“I know.” Ziva resisted the urge to allow shutters to come up, ignoring the voices in her head.

"Listen, can we talk? There's some stuff that needs to be said, but.." Tony looked apologetically at Tali, sat on Ziva's lap still admiring the 'special sticker' on her knee.

“She should sleep before you take her back on the plane.”

They managed to get Tali onto the bed behind the partition wall, figuring it might provide a slight noise barrier.

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep in the end, the excitement and travelling of the day so far catching up with her. She lay curled on her side with Kelev towards her chest. Tony stood up first, watching as Ziva stroked her hair out of her face a few times.

“C’mon, don’t want her to wake up again.” Tony placed his hands lightly on the top of Ziva’s back between her shoulders as he spoke.

She stood up, trying not to feel anxiety rise again as they walked out of the alcove the bed was in and back into the main area of the room.

“If we talk quietly, we should be ok.”

“She’s a heavy sleeper. Not like her mom.”

The word hung between them. Ziva sat back down on the chair she had pulled up to the window earlier. After a second of hesitation, Tony perched himself on the edge of the double bed, facing her.

"So what's Adam's deal? Is he hired help now or what? Bodyguard?"

"No. He is just helping me out. I asked him to stay here today for you and Tali; to keep you safe."

"I called him, y'know. He told me he was in Brussels, hadn't spoke to you in years."

"I hope you understand why he said it now."

"I get it." Tony nodded, his voice quiet and sincere.

"I know that you and Adam have not exactly been best friends, but I understand he helped you a lot that summer." That summer. "And I hope that is enough for you to see that he can be trusted. I can count on one hand the amount of people on this earth I can say I truly trust, and the two of you make the cut."

"If you trust him, I trust him."

Conversation died down again. Tony sighed. Ziva looked around the room, casting a glance at what she could see of the hazy summer sky. He cleared his throat and she turned her head back like it was a cue, but he stayed silent. Their eyes locked and they exchanged a small smile.

"You grew your hair out." Ziva said eventually, and clearly it wasn't what Tony was expecting because it took him a second to reply.

"Yeah, I did." He tucked one of the strands behind his ear. Ziva could see how it was slightly unkempt at the sides - like he'd been doing that a lot recently.

Ziva had cut all of her own hair off a week before finding out she was pregnant. She had wondered at the time if it made her look different, or if Tony would laugh at her for thinking it would. For a brief second she had considered sending him a photo, but that idea died as quickly as it formed.

It had grown back now – another stark reminder of how long it had been since they’d been like this. Able to look each other in the eye, breathe the same air, say the things they really wanted to say.

"So, uh," Tony began, hesitant. "Funny thing happened to me recently. I found out we have daughter.”

"That is funny." Ziva dared to joke, though she knew it was on thin ice. It landed, though, and Tony actually tipped his head back and laughed as though Tali wasn't asleep a few steps away. "I think we could talk around it all night if we do not confront the issue."

"You're right."

"In the interests of disclosure, I have seen a little of you together. Photographs. When you took her to the park when she first went to you."

"Should've known I was being watched."

"She loves the park."

"That's what I figured. Kids love the park, right? I've taken her to a different one every day, pretty much."

"I am sure she loves that. She seems happy."

"I think she is, mostly. She has tantrums but so do all kids. She's started calling out for me during the night which is taking a little getting used to."

Ziva cast the comment aside immediately, refusing to acknowledge who she might have been calling out to before. "She recognised you?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure if she was just along for the ride at first, but I found the picture from Paris and she pointed me out."

The six years that had passed since that trip were so storied it was hard to believe it had happened to the same people. Memories of Tony's hands round her waist and his breath in her ear fluttered through her mind.

"I told her about you. Everything I could. I wanted her to be able to recognise you and see herself in you from the first time you met. And when she got older I did not want her to have any reason to resent or blame you for not being in her life from the start."

"You always wanted us to meet?"

"Of course I did." Maybe Ziva's voice was a little disbelieving that he would think that, though why wouldn't he?

"Then.." Tony stopped himself. Since he had arrived it was clear he was fighting his kneejerk reactions to try and pose his thoughts in a more productive way. Ziva wished he wouldn't. Wished he would lash out at her, shout and scream like she deserved. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Did you read the letter?”

“Yeah.”

“All of it?”

“Yeah, I did.” Tony paused like he was expecting another question, but Ziva was waiting for him to talk. “I..” He began, stopping again immediately. “I don’t know where to start.” Ziva nodded, and she felt guilty at the tears she could feel stinging in her eyes. She’d cried more in the past three weeks than she thought she had in her lifetime. “I wish I could somehow show you it from my perspective because that would be easier than me trying to explain what’s been going through my head the last few weeks. The last few years. It’s like everything I thought I was sure of has just been flipped upside down. Hey, I don’t want to upset you..” Tony seemed concerned now as Ziva wiped her eyes and shook her head. “I really just want to get my head around all of this.”

“I know. I am sorry. It is not fair of me to be upset about this.”

“Don’t apologise, feelings aren’t about fairness.” Tony dismissed her quickly, in that no-nonsense way he always did.

“I wish there was a way I could explain it that would make sense, but I do not think I can do that even to myself.”

“You said in your letter you were punishing yourself.”

“I think so. I think I took out my own.. self-pity, on Tali. I did not think I deserved you, and so when I found out I was pregnant I could not bring myself to call you. You had gone back to your life and I thought I would ruin that for you the way I thought I ruined everyone else’s. The longer time went on, the harder it became. I convinced myself you would hate me when you found out, more every day, and you would have been within your rights to be furious that I could keep your child from you. It was selfish of me to put myself above her. That is the best explanation I can give. I was scared, and I was wrong. Wrong about a lot of things.”

Tony nodded slowly. He ran his bottom teeth over his top lip.

“It is ok if it takes you some time. I realise dumping all of this on you does not exactly make it easy to process.”

“No.” Tony chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’ll take me some time, you’re right. I know you wrote that I should destroy the letter, but can I keep hold of it for a little while?” Ziva hesitated, and Tony watched her eyes dart to where he had tapped his pocket. “Just a couple of days so I can read it a few more times.”

“A few more days.”

Tony kicked his legs out so they were stretched out in front of him. If she wanted, Ziva could have touched them with her own.

“She looks just like you.” It was almost a comment to himself, Ziva thought, spoken down at his shoes on the carpet. He smiled.

“Maybe. Her personality is all you. Ever since she started to move around and talk, it is like there are two of you.”

Ziva’s smile was brighter than Tony’s, nostalgic, and he didn’t meet her eyes until she stopped talking. Common ground passed between them.

“I don’t want us to just sit here in silence while I try and process all of this. I’ll have time to do that when me and Tali go home.”

Ziva checked the time. Just after 7pm – still a couple of hours before they would need to leave. “What do you want to do?”

Tony’s expression changed then, to one of too-bright friendliness. He patted the space beside him on the edge of the bed. Ziva didn’t hesitate to stand up and sit next to him, holding her hands in her lap.

“How are you?”

Ziva actually scoffed at the question in spite of herself. If only he knew. “It is probably not the best time to ask me that question.”

“Right. Um..” Tony looked across the room with his eyes squinted for effect. “Y’know, I’m kinda drawing a blank here.”

“Difficult to know where to start.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” Their eyes met and both of them smiled, even a little shyly. “3 years, huh?”

“I did not ever think we would go this long without talking.”

“Even when you left?”

“I suppose I was not thinking that far ahead. I am sure it will not surprise you that I was flying by the seat of my hands trying to start again.” Tony’s face broke into a bright smile and he shook his head, lifting a hand and running his fingers over his forehead. “What?”

“Nothing.” Tony cleared his throat as his face became neutral again. “Do you still think it was the right choice?”

Ziva pondered this for a moment, as though it hadn’t been her first thought every morning and her last one before she went to sleep for large periods of the last 3 years.

“I do not regret leaving NCIS. And I certainly do not regret the time we spent together in Israel. But I regret not calling you the second I found out I was pregnant. A lot of the time, I regret leaving you at all. I think I needed some time to find clarity on that. And I don’t say this with any kind of expectation that you might..” Ziva’s words fell away when Tony placed a finger on her nervously clenched fist. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “I do not know if it would have changed any of the things that are happening now. Maybe I would have still ended up having to send you and Tali away, I do not know. That is probably not something to dwell on.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that. I know it must’ve been difficult.”

The words would’ve seemed simply polite coming from anyone else, but for Tony to say them considering the circumstances made Ziva’s chest constrict. “After I handed her over, I had a panic attack.” It still felt strange to say out loud, but she was making a concerted effort to be as upfront with Tony as she could afford to be. He deserved that much, at least. “I have never had one before. I thought I was dying.”

“You seem a little nervous today.”

“I am.” Ziva smiled self-deprecatingly. The finger that Tony had placed on her fist became three.

“Has it been like this since Tali came to me?”

“Not always. But a lot of the time, yes.”

“I think it’s natural to worry about her. Especially with everything else’s that’s going on.”

“I wasn’t worried about her being with you.”

“No?”

“No. I was worried about her getting to you safely. About you coming looking for me and putting yourself in harm’s way. What you would think of me. When I would get to see her again. But I wasn’t worried about her being with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you.” Ziva’s voice was soft and knowing and she smiled looking down at his hand where he had placed it back between them. “I know how seriously you take duty, and I know that you are loyal and caring to a fault. I trusted you. I trust you. And maybe before I trusted you because I knew you would see it as your duty, but now,” Ziva smiled. “You cut a band-aid into a heart for her. That’s not duty. She is a part of you.” She placed her hand on his chest over his heart, and he looked down at it with the slightest of smiles.

"How do you know if you're doing a good job?”

"You are doing a good job. Look at her. I could not ask for anything more. And, Tony.." Ziva implored him to look her in the eye. She grabbed his hand between hers tightly. "You will not accept thanks for taking care of your daughter, but I want to say it anyway. From the bottom of my heart. I never had a doubt about you but seeing it is something else entirely. Watching how comfortable and content she is with you.. well, it is one less thing to worry about. It is a lifetime of gratitude I will owe you."

"You're right, I can't accept it. But I'm glad it's helping." Tony squeezed Ziva's hands a little. "So you've seen photos of us?"

"Yes. Sorry if that is uncomfortable, but they have been destroyed. They were just for me."

Tony nodded, mulling over the words. For a terrifying moment he seemed to get suddenly choked up. He cleared his throat.

"I think.. I mean, if it’s safe. If you wanted to watch us sometimes, you should do that."

"Really?"

"It’ll help me too. Knowing you might be there."

The words caught in Ziva's own throat now. She raised her hand to Tony's cheek and he lowered his head a little to deepen the contact. His face looked more vulnerable than she could remember it.

"Whatever you need."

"Ziva, you know what I need."

The timing wasn’t right, but the timing was never going to be right, so she kissed him then while she still had the chance. Barely a second's hesitation between his words hitting her and her leaning in to capture his lips, and in an instant he had a hold of the sides of her face as though this was what he'd been waiting for all along.

They were comforting, and loaded, and Ziva had never felt before how peaceful it could be to kiss someone. For a second, everything in her brain stood still.

All she'd thought about since laying eyes on him again was how it would feel to touch him, to kiss him, but she'd been so desperate to hear him get things off his chest and so unsure of what to expect that she hadn't allowed herself to dare presume it would happen.

She certainly hadn't allowed herself to think about Tony's hand making its way through her hair, the little noise that came from his throat as her tongue made its way into his mouth for the first time.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Tony whispered the words against her lips and Ziva’s chest tightened. “So much.” He repeated, thumbs stroking backwards along her jaw.

Ziva resisted the urge to climb into his lap, or to push him backwards onto the bed. Not when he had to leave soon. Not with their daughter sleeping a few feet away – the reminder almost made her laugh. Her hands were behind his neck and his skin was warm from the heat, comforting her as she nibbled at his lip.

It was Tony that pulled back first, but he sighed as he did. The longer this went on, the harder it was going to be for both of them. He kept a hold of Ziva’s face and pulled it down to kiss her slowly on the forehead before letting her go.

She touched her fingertips to her bottom lip when they pulled apart, feeling the ghostly pressure against her skin.

“We should..” Tony began, looking at Ziva for a cue.

"Let's sleep for a little while. You have a long night ahead."

Tony nodded, and kicked off his shoes without hesitation. He scratched the back of his head, surprisingly self-conscious. “So uh, what about you? Where are you going next?"

"Adam is leaving when you and Tali do, which means I should be able to lie low in Cairo in a different hotel for a couple of days. It is probably best if I do not tell you where I am thinking of going after that."

"Don't trust me not to follow you?"

"I do. I think it is just easier if you know as few details as possible. For all of our sakes. I do not want you thinking about it."

"You know that isn't going to stop me."

When she kissed him this time, it felt like a message. “I know.”

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Tony sighed as he got into bed, over the covers, and Ziva remembered his back. She watched his facial expression for a moment from her position at the foot of the bed, gauging what he was feeling. He smiled a little as she walked over to the other side and climbed next to him.

If she could do anything right now, she could be there for him, and maybe in turn that could repair some of the sharp raw pain in chest. She wasn’t the only one that was struggling, but she was the only one that could make either of them right. She curled herself around him, attached at every body-part possible.

“Is this all really happening?” Tony mumbled into Ziva’s hair as he placed her head on his shoulder. She chuckled lightly.

“Go to sleep.”

“Hey,” Ziva lifted her head again to look at Tony, and he kissed her slowly. Ziva’s eyes didn’t immediately open when she pulled back, but when she did she found Tony staring at her. “I’m really trying to not make this any more difficult than it’s already going to be. If I start, I’m never going to stop. I have to leave.”

“I know.” She gave him a peck before settling her head back down on his chest. “I know. Just go to sleep.”

Every conversation between them had been a little bit frantic – too much to say in too little a time, and without the ability to filter in any other way than to just stay quiet. It was quiet now, though. Ziva felt his breathing start to steady and she tried to match her own to it. The fan on the ceiling buzzed as it turned. On the other bed, Tali stirred and mumbled in her sleep.

Tony fell asleep eventually. Ziva lay with him for a while, watching his eyelashes flutter and his mouth move and she tried to memorise his face how it was now - take in every new line, every feature that had changed since she last saw him. She drifted in and out of sleep, finding herself powerless to do anything but watch him as though he would disappear if she kept her eyes closed for too long. She ran her hands slowly through his hair in the same way she had always done to Tali when she was sleeping, slowly separating strands between her fingers over and over.

Slowly, carefully, she removed herself from around him and climbed off the bed. When she got to Tali’s bed she sat on the floor alongside it and did the same: memorising her sleeping features, running light fingers over her eyelids and nose and mouth and cheeks, counting the faint freckles on her arms. Her gaze kept catching on the Star of David around her neck, thinking about what must have been going through Tony’s mind when he gave it to her.

Tali was still but it felt like time was moving too quickly, and Ziva resisted the urge to wake her up as she stood up again and got back into bed next to Tony. He hadn’t stirred.

She lay back down on her side, head resting on her hand with her arm bent up at the elbow.

It took a long time for him to register her presence, which was unlike him. She guessed he hadn’t got much sleep in the last couple of weeks. He opened one eye and blinked a couple of times as he saw her watching over him.

“What time is it?”

“9:30.”

“How long have you been awake?”

Ziva smiled a little. “I have not been to sleep.”

“You’ve just been watching me?”

“I watched Tali for a while too.” Ziva defended half-heartedly, her voice barely above a whisper. Tony chuckled while closing his eyes, stretching his arms. He settled down again looking up at her, his eyes tired but a little pleading.

“I don’t think I can leave again, Ziva.”

“You have to.”

“I know I do. I don’t think that I can.”

Ziva sighed slowly as she stroked his cheek, being careful to take notice of how his skin felt against her fingers.

"I realise I have done nothing for a long time to earn your trust, and if you don't believe it for your own sake, please believe me for Tali's. I could not be without her for a second longer than is necessary. When I am done, I will find you."

"If you need me, you call me. We'll figure it out."

"Tony, I am not going to do that. Tali needs you."

"If you NEED me," Tony stressed, "we'll figure it out."

Ziva knew she wouldn't call him but she nodded anyway, a shared pretence neither of them bought. She leaned down and kissed him, capturing his bottom lip between hers.

“Thank you for coming. I am hoping knowing you are both alright will make this easier.”

"We'll be waiting. Both of us."

"It could be years, Tony. It could be never."

"I know that."

"I could not ask you to.."

"You're not asking me to. I'm telling you what's already a foregone conclusion in my eyes. When you get back, when you get back," he repeated, emphasis on the word, "I will still be here. We can have a... well, we probably passed second chance about 10 years ago. Whatever number chance we're on. And we can get a first chance at being a proper family, the three of us."

“I have never really been a part of one before.”

“Neither have I. We could get a dog or something.”

Ziva laughed though the sound was wet with tears, kissing him again hard and quick. His eyes were shining when she lifted her head away, an easy but thoughtful smile on his face.

“I love you.” Somehow the words were the simplest thing in the world to say at that moment, after years and years of not even being able to say them to herself.

“I love you too.”

“Sorry I could not tell you before. Sorry about everything.”

“Shh,” Tony quietened her, tucking her hair behind her ear and encouraging her to place her head back down on the crook under his arm.

They lay there for a while longer, swapping stories about Tali as Tony drew soft patterns on Ziva’s back. He had acquired a remarkable amount in such a short period of time, though Ziva’s favourite was probably the one where Tony had forgotten to strap Tali into her stroller and she had waited until he turned to shut the door to the building, hopped out of her seat, and gone running off down the road laughing at the top of her voice. The thought of the danger should have scared Ziva, but it didn’t. She was with Tony. He’d protect her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Both of them got quietly fidgety as they watched time pass, knowing they would have to get up.

“We need to get to the airport.” Tony was the first one to break, kissing Ziva’s temple slowly.

“I wish you didn’t have to.”

“Please don’t say that. Not now.”

“Ok. Ok.” Ziva repeated the word as though to reassure herself, and as she sat up Tony’s arm stayed attached to her back. She could see Tali still fast asleep from this vantage point, and climbed down the bed towards hers.

She woke her up with whispers, and Tali wiped her eyes and looked a little dazed.

“Home?”

“Abba is taking you on a plane to go and see your new bedroom.”

“Pop?”

“Yeah, Pop’s going to be there. He’s really excited to show it to you.” Tony appeared over Ziva’s shoulder, stepping into his deck shoes.

The two of them made their way around the room quietly, packing up the things Tali had somehow scattered the room with in just a couple of hours. Ziva took her to the bathroom and caught a sight of her own reflection in the backlit mirror – the bags under her eyes, her unkempt hair. When she ran the tap to get Tali to wash her hands she splashed some of the water onto her face, rubbing it dry with her palms.

They re-entered the main room and Tony was stood near the door, hand over his eyes and head pointed down at the ground. He recovered quickly enough to plaster a smile on his face as Tali ran towards him so he could put on her shoes.

Ziva listened to them talking as she turned her back, taking a few deep breaths. When she felt like she could, she went into the plastic bag she’d left by the foot of the bed and retrieved a stuffed camel. Cheesy, but a reminder.

She placed the toy behind her back as she approached them, waiting until Tali looked up at her before revealing it and holding it out. “Happy birthday, Tali.”

Tali took the camel, delighted, and clutched it to her chest. “Thank you.” She eventually squeezed out.

“You’re welcome, my love. Make sure abba buys you everything you want, yes?”

Tali looked up at Tony, who rolled his eyes with a smile. He took a careful step back when Ziva bent down in front of Tali, holding her small hands with one of hers and running her other over Tali’s hair and cheek.

She knew more big, dramatic goodbyes would only confuse or upset her. She didn’t allow herself to cry, instead smiling as she picked up Kelev from the floor and made sure she had him and her new camel toy in either of her hands.

"Ima has to go away again Tali, OK? And I don't know how long for. But abba told me he's really excited for you two to have fun together. So you and me have to say goodbye now."

Tali leaned forward in expectation of a hug, and Ziva wrapped her arms around her so tightly she thought she might break. She whispered “I love you” into her hair in English and Hebrew, pulling away to kiss her twice and standing up again before it got any harder.

Looking Tony in the eye was harder than she expected. His head was tipped a little and he was giving her half a smile that was betrayed by the water in his eyes.

“I’ll see you soon. Ok? Soon.”

Ziva nodded fiercely, pressing their foreheads together as though she were willing it to be true. Tony raised his hands to hold her face, kissing her slowly and purposefully. Ziva breathed him in, and when he pulled away she followed him, capturing his lips twice, three times, in quick succession.

“See you soon.” She repeated, defiant. She stepped away from him before she couldn’t.

"Walk or carry, Tali?" Tony held his arms open to demonstrate his point and Tali immediately lifted her own so Tony would lift her, settling her on his hip. Ziva noticed the way he grimaced a little as he straightened his back. She picked up his bag from the floor and placed it over his other shoulder, stroking the strap until it lay flat on his shirt.

“Make sure she doesn’t drop Kelev. And remember her stroller next time.”

“I will if I ever want to walk again. Ok, give ima a kiss.” Tony tipped Tali a little towards Ziva, and Ziva grabbed Tali’s head and kissed her on the lips before adding ones on her forehead and cheek for good measure. She lifted her hands to Tony’s cheeks and kissed him again too, rubbing her thumb towards his chin.

“I love you both. Be safe.”

“We love you too. Take care of yourself. Remember, you call me if you need to.”

Ziva nodded again as Tony opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, her hands running over Tali’s arm on his shoulder and along his back until they were both out of reach. Tony knocked Adam’s door twice as they walked past – his own signal to pack up and leave.

She stood watching them as they approached the elevator, and though they were still within talking distance Tony got Tali to wave goodbye. Ziva tried to smile, taking a mental image of the two of them as they got onto the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed she went back into the silent hotel room, taking back her old position sat on her knees by the window. It took them a couple of minutes to appear. Tony’s head flicked up in the general direction of the room, and she watched as he tried to calculate the right window. She held up her palm to the glass and he caught sight of her then, smiling and raising his free hand before looking away and pressing a slow kiss to Tali’s cheek.

She watched them disappear back down the street, lit in the darkness by streetlamps and headlights, and only when they began to blur out of view did she allow the tears to fall.

#ncis #tiva #ziva david #tony dinozzo #tivali #tiva fanfiction #tali #my fanfiction #mine #what's truly mad is how many tags i use that basically mean the same thing #anyway if i didnt post this today it was never going to be posted #if you get to the end i salute you it probably reads really weirdly #the overriding message behind it is i love tony and ziva and i shouldnt write things while crying at 4am

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